Category: Life

Each moment is different. Here are some of mine.

PS:

So: We’re at CVS just now, about an hour after I wrote “And On, And On,”, waiting our turn at the pharmacy, when this woman sits down next to me and says, “I’m very sorry about what happened in Pittsburgh.” (This, after she circled around where we were sitting in what I had assumed was a somewhat suspicious manner.)

We talked a few minutes about what happened and why; she asked me about the Sonoma Jewish community, told me her feelings about the current White House occupant, and couldn’t have been nicer or more compassionate.

Sometimes, it pays to wear a yarmulke. Continue reading “PS:”

And On, And On

“Am Yisrael Chai” – The People Israel Live!
I NEVER MET THEM. BUT I know them.

The eleven Jews murdered yesterday as they worshiped at the Tree of Life Congregation near Pittsburgh could be found in any synagogue, including my own: the former congregational president, the lay leader, the man with the famously dry wit, the shofar (ram’s horn) blower; the ones everybody loved and could depend on.

It could have been any of us. And in a sense, it was. Continue reading “And On, And On”

Preach it, Isaac.

Anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that ‘my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.’”
― Isaac Asimov

Why I Love: Sonoma

IT’S THE HISTORY. IT’S THE diversity of food, from restaurants to markets to semipermanent food-trucks. It’s the out-of-state license plates ringing the Plaza on weekends. It’s the eight-acre Sonoma Plaza itself: families having picnics, occasional Tai Chi enthusiasts or Morris dancers, the rose garden(s), the three fountains, the bridge over the duck pond, the ducks, the former chickens, the sundial, even the smelly gingko tree. Continue reading “Why I Love: Sonoma”

Out of the Ashes, Endlessly Turning

A YEAR AGO THIS WEEK, Ann, Geronimo and I fled the then-largest wildfire complex in California history.

We were voluntary evacuees who came home to find everything relatively intact, so our story had a happy ending. My niece and nephew-in-law weren’t so lucky; residents of Corralitos to the far south, they owned a house in Santa Rosa’s Coffey Park that, like almost all the others in that neighborhood, burned to the foundation. Many people fared similarly, some worse.

“The Fires” were the second time in my life I faced a “will I die in the next five minutes?” moment. Continue reading “Out of the Ashes, Endlessly Turning”

“Return to the Breath”

SOMETHING ANN AND I SAY to each other when life seems fretful and jagged is “Return to the Breath.”

It’s a compact admonition against spiraling out of control with what-ifs and oh-my-gods. Return to the Breath means sit (or stand, or walk) and pay attention to your breathing.

If you center your attention on breathing, you can’t help but connect to the moment you’re in — and know that The Moment is all you’ll ever have or exist in.

There are many schools and methods of breath control. One of my favorites, which I learned in the law-enforcement chaplaincy academy, is called “triangle breathing:” Inhale for a count of five. Hold for a count of five. Exhale for a count of five. Repeat until calm. Continue reading ““Return to the Breath””

The Name is Attinson. NEAL Attinson.

MY NAME IS NOT “NEIL ATTISON.” Neither is it “Neale” or “Niall,” “Addison,” “Atkinson,” “Atchison,” or “Adlington.” (I’m still trying to figure that one out.)

Despite these cognomenly difficulties, I have no desire to change my name to something more convenient. True, I did call myself “Neal Ross” when I was a reporter (and why I publicly go by “Neal Ross Attinson” now), but that was on the advice of my first radio mentor. “Just use your first and middle name,” he said. “Everybody in radio does that. Cuts down on the crazies who will want to call you at home.”

Even then, some people referred to me as “Neil Roth.” You can’t win. Continue reading “The Name is Attinson. NEAL Attinson.”

The Plan

The story is told of two prisoners condemned to death being held for 6 months in the dungeon of a castle. On the day of execution, the lieutenant leads them down the corridor and up the stairs level by level until they come to the courtyard exit. They are taken to the wall, blindfolded, given their last cigarette and their hands are tied behind their backs. The lieutenant walks back to his firing squad and says, “Ready, aim …” and one prisoner turns to the other prisoner and says, “Now here’s my plan!”

–Rabbi Kalman Packouz

5 Thoughts: A Wrinkle is Time

1. “WHERE DOES THE TIME GO?” I asked. And the answer came: “Away.”

2. There’s really not much one can say about the passing of time, just as there is not much that can be said about falling in love or the taste of anything. They can only be experienced, not described. But oh! what an experience! we wouldn’t be fully human without it.

3. Two types of time there are: linear (future-to-present-to-past) and cyclical/anniversarial (round-and-round-and-round). Cyclical time is really spiral time; we commemorate the same events but reach a year older as we do so. Continue reading “5 Thoughts: A Wrinkle is Time”

Why I Love: Geronimo Cat

IT’S HIS INDEPENDENCE. IT’S watching him sleep. It’s his purring. It’s the feel and smell of his fur. (It’s also the smell of his paws.) It’s the way he closes his eyes when I pet him. It’s his occasional intense, extraneous-sound-ignoring focus. It’s the little gifts he brings. It’s his bonding-with-humans over a long period of time. It’s his gracefulness. It’s the way he demands attention and affection. It’s his wherever-the-humans-are sleeping preference. It’s his goofy self-amusement. Continue reading “Why I Love: Geronimo Cat”

Don’t Look Up

OF ALL THE PET PEEVES this modern life offers, one of the most soul-sucking is checking out at the grocery store.

I’m specifically talking about the debit-card machine. Time was, you could fill the two-to-three-minute transaction with friendly banter; ask after the checker’s health and/or welfare; comment on how busy the day is; even chat about the house music. It doesn’t matter what — it’s a friendly benefit for both customer and checker. When you’re working retail, these little conversations help pass the time and break up the daily monotony. Continue reading “Don’t Look Up”

Why I Love: Writing

IT’S THE SCARINESS OF THE blank screen. It’s the focused attention. It’s the mental sensation of assembling Tinker-Toy pieces into a coherent structure. It’s the way the hours fly by. It’s the nothing-else-like-it buzz (thank you, Stephen King). It’s the feel and click of the keys beneath my tapping fingers. It’s the occasional brain-wracking pause. (It’s also the occasional chortle.) Continue reading “Why I Love: Writing”

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