Rando

The southern cassowary (Casuarius casuarius), also known as double-wattled cassowary, Australian cassowary, or two-wattled cassowary, is a large flightless black bird, found in Indonesia, Papua New Guinea, and northeastern Australia. It is one of the three living species of cassowary, alongside the dwarf cassowary and the northern cassowary. It is a ratite and therefore related to the emu, ostriches, rheas and kiwi. (source)
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City I dislike: Syracuse, NY
Why? Eh, no major reason. It’s a big Western New York college town and yet it’s nearly completely devoid of rizz. It lacks charm for me…Nice ceramics museum  though.

San Marco Square, Venice—James Innes

City I think is overrated: Venice, Italy. Too crowded with careless, annoying tourists who seem to think they’re in Disneyland/World versus a place where people actually live and work.

City I think is underrated: Brattleboro, VT
Really. Go there. It small but has a few independent bookstores, lovely restaurants and pubs, a decent little art museum, farmer’s, flea, antique and other street markets, distilleries, live theater and more than a few art galleries, at least three different spas and The New England Center for Circus Arts.

City I like: Reykjavik, Iceland

City I love: NYC

City I feel most myself in: Cambridge, MA?

City I dream of living in (again): Cambridge, MA
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Jen and I are still binge-watching Northern Exposure and I continue to be disappointed in most of the characters and storylines. Maurice had a few epps in a row where he showed personal growth. That arc’s apparently now on vacation. Shelly continues to be a vapid, little, self obsessed bleach blonde teen. There was actually an episode employing the old exact-identical-(but very different)-twin trope. Ya know, we didn’t need a second, new Doctor Fleischmann (though his twin was an improvement). Couldn’t the writers have made a Chris (who wasn’t such a lady magnet? Unsure that would be possible.). A Marylyn who was now an outspoken, hell raising feminist? Shelly with a brain and compassion? (not sure that’s doable but it’d be interesting….maybe)

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This is from a speech my pal Hillel recently gave while sitting shiva after his mother recently died.

I love this tapestry. I know there were a lot of dedicated and talented women who worked on it, but forgive me if it makes me think so much of my mother. Her stitching and esthetics are incorporated into it, and it is dedicated to her beloved husband, but that’s not even what I mean when I say it makes me think of her. My mother’s life was a tapestry, harmoniously blending so many elements and making the sum more than the parts.

I’m not surprised to see so many of you here for her today. Community was a vital, living part of my mother’s tapestry of life. Community is the air that she breathed. She gained sustenance from being with this kehillah, participating in it, sometimes leading it, reveling in its joys, commiserating in its sorrows. My father loved to say that “you can’t Jew it alone” and my mom felt that in her very bones. She was, in many ways, a pretty private person, but having and being in community gave her purpose and energy, and made her thrive.

For mom, a critical aspect of that community is Jewish living and learning. For her, those two things were inseparable. Going through my parents’ study over the last weeks, I found reams – literally reams – of notes, study materials, and teaching outlines for the innumerable classes that she took and courses that she taught here and elsewhere. And while Jewish subjects were paramount, she had broad curiosity about the world. Paul Applefield mentioned to me that he’d come visit mom one week and she’d have torah text open on her lap. He’d come a week later, and she’d be reading a book about the sculptures of Henry Moore. Mom never went anywhere without a book or a magazine article in her hand, you know, just in case she had to wait for an appointment to start or a parking spot to open up. She wanted to put that ten minutes to good use by soaking up some learning.

My mother learned from everyone and wanted to know about people’s lives and what is important to them. In the hospital recently, she asked the nurses how they came to be in their job and what their tattoos were all about. She would ask museum docents detailed questions about art and artifacts. She talked with plumbers and store clerks and neighbors and John the produce guy, not just about what they were doing or selling, but who they are and what is important to them. She regarded everyone with utmost respect for their background and perspective on the world. For my ima, everyone had something to teach and she wanted to learn.

Often, that learning was a prelude to appreciating the world’s beauty in all its forms. She loved to travel so she could see the world’s wonders first hand, and invariably the trip would include visits to the local art museums, libraries, and botanical gardens. So mom would learn beforehand about indigenous art and customs and flora, but she wanted to see it for herself, to immerse herself in it.

One of mom’s favorite Hebrew phrases was from the paragraph before the shema:
 וּבְטוּבוֹ מְחַדֵּשׁ בְּכָל יוֹם תָּמִיד מַעֲשֵׂה בְרֵאשִׁית, which refers to god as the force that, with kindness, renews creation continuously every day. My mother saw creation as an ongoing activity, a constant presence, and thought that it is our responsibility, not just to appreciate the beauty of the world, but to participate in the creation of the world. “Enjoy every moment” she would say to us, whether the moment was travel, going to a concert, being with friends, or spending time with family. For years, my brother and I have only half joked that our mother was a guru and her mantra was “enjoy every moment.”

Unquestionably, the thread that tied together my mother’s tapestry was family. She shared a life of deep love, profound respect, mutual interests, and mutual support with my father. She was Savta to my kids and beloved Aunt J to my cousins. She was our matriarch and she kept up with everyone’s struggles and accomplishments. I have the letters where I would confide in her about the angst of my 20s because I knew I could talk with her about those things. More recently, she talked a lot with her grandchildren about what they were doing, and not just in a "that's nice, dear" kind of way, but with genuine interest and curiosity. In October, she danced at my son Caleb’s wedding and just a couple of weeks ago, she tried to wrap her head around what my nephew Max does to create software that 3D prints prosthetics.

She wanted to know what everyone was doing and being because she took absolute glowing pride in the mark that her family was making on the world. It’s kind of a running joke in my family that at least two of my kids and several of my nieces and nephews are the fourth generation to work in the nonprofit world, god help them. But my mother was so happy about the positive things that her family does to improve the world, to reinvent it as a better place, to find their place in it, and to create the community and the loving personal connections that make that happen. During this past pesach, my mother’s health was already in severe decline, but when she was surrounded by 8 of her children and grandchildren, she so rose to the occasion. Sitting in her throne in her living room, surrounded by family at the seder, mom absolutely glowed with energy and naches*… Family was mom’s happy place.
 
My mother’s life wove together beauty, presence, learning, family, and so much love. I hope you know that all of you are a part of that. That’s a beautiful tapestry you have there.

I wish that, in the nearly 50 years that Hillel and I have been buds, that I’d spent more time with his Muti—his Mother.

What is the translation of muti?
In South African English, the word muti is derived from the Zulu/Xhosa/Northern Ndebele umuthi, meaning 'tree', whose root is -thi.

*Naches
     noun
pride or gratification, especially at the achievements of one's children.

May Mrs. Bromberg's memory be a massive blessing to all.