Tag: Sonoma

The town, the people, the vibe – and the sheer joy of living here.

Put Your Hand on the Radio

A RABBINICAL ASSISTANT, two deacons, and a lay mystic walk into a radio studio.

Seriously.

Welcome to the Sonoma Valley Interfaith Radio Hour, a live and lively round-robin every Thursday afternoon from 3-4pm Pacific Time on Sonoma Valley’s own KSVY (91.3 FM and streaming/archived at ksvy.org) featuring one Jew (me), the deacons (Presbyterian and Roman Catholic), and a Christian Science practitioner. (With occasional guesting by my rabbi, by an Irish Catholic priest, and whoever else we can grab from our local ecumenical Cobb salad.)

Our informal discussions have included how our different faith-traditions understand moral and ethical ideals; life-cycle events such as birth, coming of age, marriage and divorce, and dying/mourning; the multiform flavors of our worship services; observing holidays and holy days; our understandings of/interactions with the Bible and other holy books; and how we ourselves each came to our respective “ministries.” We have deep respect for each other’s religious backgrounds and deep attachments to our own – as our Presbyterian emcee puts it, “We’re all swimming in the same direction” – and are on the air not to convert or proselytize, but to educate, entertain, and hopefully, edify.

What makes the show work, I think, is that outside of our studio, the Valley prides itself on a thriving interfaith fellowship, perhaps because we’re so isolated – we really are all we’ve got, and it’s to our evolutionary advantage to get along as well as we do; it helps, too, that we have all become such close acquaintances. Also, I find that learning about others’ religions/sacred practices make me appreciate my own that much more. Tune us in sometime and see if that’s true for you!

The Cook For Any Price: Now With Art!

JUST A QUICK NOTE to announce that, thanks to the talents of locally famous Sonoma artist and musician Jon Shannon Williams, my e-books now have handsome new covers – which (I strongly believe) are reminiscent of The Brothers Hildebrandt (Google same if you weren’t a Lord of the Rings fan in the 1970s). Please check him/them out and bask in the glow!

5 Thoughts: Why Sonoma?

0. WE SONOMANS LIVE in the greatest semi-isolated piece of spacetime findable on this vast and tiny Earth. Here are five reasons why I believe that.

1. Environmental infrastructure: Green hills in winter, golden in summer, wildflowers in the spring, and – partly due to the ubiquitous vineyards – some of the certifiably best autumn foliage that will ever knock out your eyeballs with giddy wonder. (Not to mention Sonoma Plaza, which San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen once called the most beautiful public square in California.) And all of it available within walking, hiking, or biking distance.

2. Social infrastructure: A friend of mine refers to this place as “the island.” Unlike other Sonoma County population centers, we’re not on any main highways/freeways – so to get here, you have to really want to. And because of that, there’s this fierce community spirit and shared sense that “we’re all we have.” In addition to our many volunteer-built niceties (a feature-rich senior center and independent FM radio station, to name just two), this was most evident during the October 2017 wildfires, where folk used their skills and resources to help their neighbors (and house and feed the many first responders who helped save us from a fiery fate).

3. Quality of life: Taking into account the countless farms, restaurants, museums, music and food venues, newspapers, artists and artisans, festivals, markets, parks, charities and benevolent societies, sister-cities, youth programs, tree-lined streets, classic cars, cottage industries, and 1930s-era moviehouse, there’s a reason we call it “Slownoma.”

4. The people: With Sonoma’s estimated population of less than than 11,000, one person really can still make a difference. And they make for great neighbors! (Mostly.) In any case, there’re a lot of friendly folks round these parts, and due to having lived here since 1998, a lot of familiar ones as well. You can’t buy that kind of connection.

5. Reality check: Oh, we’re not perfect: we have our occasional (and sometimes bad) crimes, a high cost of living and housing, our share of homelessness and hopelessness, and crushing poverty side-by-side with privileged opulence, just like many other American communities. But we also have more nonprofits per capita than many other American communities, meaning an unbelievable proliferation of goodhearted and competent people working to change or at least ameliorate our problems. Sometimes that may seem a Sisyphean task – but then, Sisyphus couldn’t muster so many cheerful and enthusiastic helpers.

Sober Assessment

TWO-AND-A-HALF MONTHS AGO, I completed my tenth year of clear-eyed, clean-headed and grateful sobriety.

Now, when some people hear that, they might think, “Great, here comes the self-righteous lecture on the evils of intoxication.” But that won’t happen, at least not from me. I don’t and won’t disdain anyone else’s recreational or coping choices; frankly, they are none of my business, and refraining from inebriation is not a crusade that I feel either comfortable or qualified to pursue toward others.

Instead, I want to speak about the rarefied and addictive intoxicant that actually “saved” me, keeping me sane and healthy not just during the past decade but all of my life – and if you know me as well as you think you do, you can already guess what that is.

WRITING.

Not for nothing did Stephen King say of this 6,000-year-old-plus art: “Do it for the buzz.” There is an ineffable thrill in watching the words spill out onto paper or screen, an actual physical and mental rush only gotten from congealing thought into alphabetic form, that’s as hard to beat as it is to describe.

And the best part is, it’s free. Easily accessible. Shareable. No more watching my money go up in a cloud of marijuana smoke; no more furtively prowling dodgy neighborhoods; no more keeping it all to myself lest I run out.

Did I mention addictive? Once you start writing, you’re hooked for life. I sometimes find myself typing and typing until I fall asleep at the keyboard, literally unable to stop ’til I drop. (True story.) E.g., tonight: I meant to take advantage of the finally clear Sonoma skies and do a bit of long-delayed stargazing. But as I write this, it’s well after 10:30pm (or, if you prefer, 2230 hours) PDT and I’m already getting sleepy.

So before I trundle off to Dreamsville, I’ll leave you this hard-earned advice: Try not to let the Great American Novel (or Essay, or Blogpost) keep you from tending your other bodily needs. Otherwise, you may find yourself face down in a pool of your own ink – or even with “QWERTYUIOP” reverse-imprinted deeply into your throbbing forehead. Nighty night.

Aged I

LET’S SHIFT GEARS for a second and talk about something that’s been on my mind for a long but indeterminate while: in a word, aging.

Later this month, may the Force so will it, I’ll celebrate my 64th birthday. While momentous enough in itself, what’s even more of the moment is the matter of perspective this milestone brings.

I have now outlived several dear (and once-dear) friends and family members.

Many of the Hebrew-school children I taught when we first came to Sonoma are now out of college or vocational school and pursuing their own successful careers – some with children of their own.

I have seen my beloved hometown change from a quaint and sleepy rural community to a quaint and world-famous tourist playground. (Don’t get me wrong – it’s still by far the best place on Earth in which to live, filled with the best people to live with. It’s just … different, that’s all.)

And I have matured from a depressive but charmingly self-aggrandizing hophead to a joyful and sober social asset. (For some values of the term “social asset.”)

All these changes – particularly the sobriety – have helped me realize the fragility, continuity and inevitability of time and its cycles; it’s the sort of realization one can only derive from direct experience, and has also given me an appreciation of depth and focus. (And rocket-fueled my innate and sardonic sense of the absurd.) Most valuable of all is what the kids today call “radical acceptance” – a healthier byproduct than cynicism of struggling against the unchangeable – as well as a fierce love of life and its many inhabitants.

Wisdom? Enlightenment? Inner peace? I wouldn’t go that far, because I don’t know how to define or even recognize any of those. Let’s just call it a grateful and quiet delight in the simple, in the small, in the deep happiness of becoming and belonging. And we’ll leave it at that.

Instant Equilibrium

A BIT PRICEY, BUT O! so worth it.

Occasionally, and despite my usual decent breakfast (homebaked bran-ginger-date-pecan muffin, high-protein yogurt, and coffee), I am apt to suffer hypoglycemia while perambulating about Sonoma. (There was even the time a few months ago when I approached some firefighter trainees to ask for a therapeutic granola bar and wound up riding an ambulance back to my house. Great story, too little time/space to tell it further.)

As proof against these attacks, I used to carry pitted dates in my EDC for gobbling to raise my blood-sugar. However, I recently hit on the following mixture which, in addition to being tasty, serves its purpose more admirably because of added protein:

Blend equal parts (say, at least a half-cup each) whole candied pecans, chopped candied pecans, chopped dates, roasted and salted pistachio kernels, dried cranberries, and goji berries. Portion out into a plastic sandwich or snack-size bag, seal, and tuck into EDC. (Try hard not to nibble on it unless needed.)

Torah, Nutshelled

(A recent Yom Kippur sermon.)

הִגִּ֥יד לְךָ֛ אָדָ֖ם מַה־טּ֑וֹב וּמָֽה־יְהֹוָ֞ה דּוֹרֵ֣שׁ מִמְּךָ֗ כִּ֣י אִם־עֲשׂ֤וֹת מִשְׁפָּט֙ וְאַ֣הֲבַת חֶ֔סֶד וְהַצְנֵ֥עַ לֶ֖כֶת עִם־אֱלֹהֶֽיךָ׃ – Micah 6:8

MANY SMART PEOPLE HAVE TRIED to distill the Torah and its 613 mitzvot – “commandments,” or “connections” – into something smaller and more digestible. When someone told the early first-century sage Hillel, “Teach me the entire Torah while I stand on one foot,” Hillel famously replied, “What is hateful to you, do not do to others. […] The rest is commentary. Now go study.” Put another way: “‘Don’t be a jerk.’ Everything else is explanation; now, go figure it out.”

The prophet Micah lived six hundred years before Hillel. He explained Torah thus: “You have been told what is good […] and what Adonai seeks from you: To do justice, love chesed, and walk humbly with your G?d.” All three instances of the word “you” or “your” are in the second-person singular. These instructions are aimed at the Jewish nation’s individual members – at you, and you, and you, and me.

So. Let’s take a closer look at what we’re getting into. Continue reading “Torah, Nutshelled”

One Another

THE SCENE: LAST WEEK AT a medical office.

It was a strictly routine matter, but one which involved removing my cabbie cap and disclosing my kippah.

“How was your Chanukah?” the technician asked.

“It was good,” I replied. “Lots of light in a very dark time.”

His eyes held mine. “Tell me about it. I celebrate Chanukah too.”

Five More Thoughts

1. ANOTHER SERVICE, ANOTHER ARMED GUARD. After making cordial introductions — as one of the service leaders, I was the first to arrive this morning — he informed me that an access-grate was askew below the sanctuary. One of our congregants (chair of our newly formed Security Committee, in fact) checked it out with him and pronounced the situation completely and unmistakably benign. But I’m glad someone noticed.

2. As a friend put it so well on our congregational Facebook page: “Our Shabbat service today was truly blessed. Neighbors Yolanda and Silvana joined us to pray for peace and share their pain over the war and anti-Semitism. Yolanda told her story of her Jewish family’s religious persecution from Spain and other family members’ persecution as Lebanese Christians. Her daughter brought roses, candles and a cactus to share with us. The notes were written to express their wishes for peace. Our hearts are full.”

3. I’ve never seen so many haunted faces. We did manage to manifest some light — quite a bit, actually — during and after the service. But still.

4. At the post-service kiddush (“coffee and fellowship time,” for those unfamiliar with that Hebrew term), every conversation involved what, as another friend put it, “is the first thing I think about in the morning and the last I think of at night.”

5. Where do we go from here?

Five Thoughts

1. WE HAD A WELL-ARMED GUARD at our synagogue service this morning. (In the United States. IN SONOMA. Which, as you may imagine, made/makes me feel both glad and sad.)

2. When our rabbi asked those visiting for the first time to rise, nearly two dozen people stood up from within the packed sanctuary. The rabbi then gave them the Priestly Blessing (Numbers 6:24-26), with great feeling from him and a rousing “AMEN!” from us.

3. Prior to reciting the Kaddish, a prayer for the dead, it’s our synagogue’s custom to ask those assembled to offer names for whom they’re mourning. When it was my turn, I said, “the innocents.” (Or I might have said “the innocence.” I’m still not sure.)

4. Two things I hated, because we are generally otherwise a very welcoming community: 1.) The unfamiliar guy on the cellphone in the parking lot who asked our rabbi if this was a church (we share a campus). “Yes,” the rabbi told him. “A church.” 2.) We have been Zooming our 23-year-strong Saturday morning Torah study since COVID began, and this morning, an unfamiliar name popped into the waiting room. “Anybody here know a [Jane Doe]?” I asked. No one did. So I blocked her.

5. We also made space/time for each of us, as the spirit so moved, to share/vent/cry with each other. When it was my turn, I said that words were insufficient for the current situation. But I then related that, at Hebrew school this past week, our youngest student (and unofficial mascot) asked the rabbi, “Who do you hope wins this war?” “In war,” the rabbi told him, “nobody wins.” I hope his words entered the students’ tender hearts — and long memories.

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