I know I am behind on this endeavor, as many of you point out on a daily basis.
I am sort of overwhelmed by how much I have to share, and I'm not exactly sure the form in which to share it. Poem? Prose? Picture? Vignette? Well,
regardless, it's bed time (according to me and according to Elissa on skype, and she's usually right about bed time), so I'll just leave you hanging for a little bit longer while I get my bearings.
...But that doesn't really seem fair. In the last few weeks I have been to Auburn, Tulsa, and Macon. I had a birthday. I read the most beautiful book of short stories I have ever read (Memory Wall by Anthony Doerr). Saturday I am off to Hattiesburg, next Wednesday to the great state of Texas, and then to Hot Springs.
I have been taking notes and talking and doing a lot of thinking. I guess because I have been thinking a lot, it feels like I have been blogging. Or something like that.
So, the point? More later, more always later.
Love Always,
Claire
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Living History
It's amazing how long it has been since I have posted. I've been jotting down notes for the last three weeks in anticipate of blogging, but I guess I have just been too tired, though, really, there are no excuses. Maybe I have just been blogging in other ways--emailing, talking on the phone, scribbling these ridiculous notes to myself on little pieces of paper that I then find and have to think about.
Well, I guess I could start from some sort of beginning. We went to Vicksburg a few weekends ago, a place where the past is constantly intersected by the present. Driving through the Battlefield I couldn't help but marvel at its expanse--miles and miles of fields and gorges and hills. It was a relief to finally be able to visualize Tony Horowitz's Confederates in the Attic. The Battlefield is really astonishing. Of course it was raining on our visit, so it made our trip all the more ominous. Ominous? I guess it was sort of ominous. After the Battlefield we ventured to downtown Vicksburg which is quite quaint--there is a beautiful art gallery (The Attic Gallery) where I bought a small painting by Jamie Tate, a southern artist, and there are more cute shops / restaurants. We really did have an excellent time.
Later that week I had a few lovely phone conversations, received a siddur in the mail from Julia (an excellent reminder of Friday night evenings spent in Saratoga), and Lauren and I went to CJ's installation, a lively and significant occasion. As usual we were warmly welcomed into Mt. Helm. We heard several eloquent sermons where speakers gave advice such as "you just need a little faith in the tank," and reminded CJ and parishioners to "listen to the voice of the past." Really, these last few weeks have just been about finding, listening to, and remember that voice, or those voices. After the ceremony we joined the lunchtime celebration and met several active Jacksonites (Jacksonians?) and we left feeling as if we had expanded the boundaries of our collective community. We certainly did watch history being made.
Last weekend we were fortunate enough to visit Jacobs Camp, the URJ camp in Jackson, where we spent Shabbat. I had never been to a Jewish overnight camp, and the experience was much more moving than I anticipated. Watching more than 100 kids singing together, swaying, and dancing, and then joining together for services outside under the sky was, at times, breathtaking. I always forget how awe-struck I feel when strangers know the same language. If that makes sense. Anyway, it was a wonderful evening.
The next day, Saturday, obviously, we went to a Pig Roast and a Chick Ball --duh -- and on Sunday we went to an Interfaith Panel at Beth Israel. An interesting conversation about Prayer in School began, a conversation that doesn't make its way north in interfaith dialogue very often. One of the speakers reminded the audience that "people really do care about each other here," and I smiled. I spoke with some interesting leaders as we ate cookies together and really, really missed WTW and IFYC activities.
Then it was a regular week, I think, and Friday I left for Auburn for my first summer visit. The drive was long but beautiful, the temple was welcoming and kind, I met interesting and engaging people, I ate good food, really, I had a great time. On the way back we stopped in Montgomery and Selma and did some Civil Rights touring, and, again, witnessed the past and the present collide. It was a moving and unexplainable experience standing on the Edmund Pettus Bridge and watching the cars go by. I tried to picture King and Heschel holding hands and walking. I thought about Zion Baptist and modern day freedom fighters and those who have given up. Selma is a depressed town--it is empty and it feels lonely. If that makes sense. We visited AME and the old synagouge and were just overcome by the silence of Selma. The history is still there, but weeds are growing around it. I don't really know if any of this makes sense, I'm tired, and I think I am finally realizing how different it is to be here. It's just just that I'm far away from friends and family, or that the geography is different. History is different.
Pictures to come in another entry (Keith I know you have stopped reading by now anyway), pictures and more thoughts to come. I'll try to be better with this as the summer begins to fly by. Birthday Thursday, Tulsa Saturday, Macon, Georgia a day after we get back from Tulsa. And then a few more states, and then September.
Time is a really funny thing.
Love,
Claire
Well, I guess I could start from some sort of beginning. We went to Vicksburg a few weekends ago, a place where the past is constantly intersected by the present. Driving through the Battlefield I couldn't help but marvel at its expanse--miles and miles of fields and gorges and hills. It was a relief to finally be able to visualize Tony Horowitz's Confederates in the Attic. The Battlefield is really astonishing. Of course it was raining on our visit, so it made our trip all the more ominous. Ominous? I guess it was sort of ominous. After the Battlefield we ventured to downtown Vicksburg which is quite quaint--there is a beautiful art gallery (The Attic Gallery) where I bought a small painting by Jamie Tate, a southern artist, and there are more cute shops / restaurants. We really did have an excellent time.
Later that week I had a few lovely phone conversations, received a siddur in the mail from Julia (an excellent reminder of Friday night evenings spent in Saratoga), and Lauren and I went to CJ's installation, a lively and significant occasion. As usual we were warmly welcomed into Mt. Helm. We heard several eloquent sermons where speakers gave advice such as "you just need a little faith in the tank," and reminded CJ and parishioners to "listen to the voice of the past." Really, these last few weeks have just been about finding, listening to, and remember that voice, or those voices. After the ceremony we joined the lunchtime celebration and met several active Jacksonites (Jacksonians?) and we left feeling as if we had expanded the boundaries of our collective community. We certainly did watch history being made.
Last weekend we were fortunate enough to visit Jacobs Camp, the URJ camp in Jackson, where we spent Shabbat. I had never been to a Jewish overnight camp, and the experience was much more moving than I anticipated. Watching more than 100 kids singing together, swaying, and dancing, and then joining together for services outside under the sky was, at times, breathtaking. I always forget how awe-struck I feel when strangers know the same language. If that makes sense. Anyway, it was a wonderful evening.
The next day, Saturday, obviously, we went to a Pig Roast and a Chick Ball --duh -- and on Sunday we went to an Interfaith Panel at Beth Israel. An interesting conversation about Prayer in School began, a conversation that doesn't make its way north in interfaith dialogue very often. One of the speakers reminded the audience that "people really do care about each other here," and I smiled. I spoke with some interesting leaders as we ate cookies together and really, really missed WTW and IFYC activities.
Then it was a regular week, I think, and Friday I left for Auburn for my first summer visit. The drive was long but beautiful, the temple was welcoming and kind, I met interesting and engaging people, I ate good food, really, I had a great time. On the way back we stopped in Montgomery and Selma and did some Civil Rights touring, and, again, witnessed the past and the present collide. It was a moving and unexplainable experience standing on the Edmund Pettus Bridge and watching the cars go by. I tried to picture King and Heschel holding hands and walking. I thought about Zion Baptist and modern day freedom fighters and those who have given up. Selma is a depressed town--it is empty and it feels lonely. If that makes sense. We visited AME and the old synagouge and were just overcome by the silence of Selma. The history is still there, but weeds are growing around it. I don't really know if any of this makes sense, I'm tired, and I think I am finally realizing how different it is to be here. It's just just that I'm far away from friends and family, or that the geography is different. History is different.
Pictures to come in another entry (Keith I know you have stopped reading by now anyway), pictures and more thoughts to come. I'll try to be better with this as the summer begins to fly by. Birthday Thursday, Tulsa Saturday, Macon, Georgia a day after we get back from Tulsa. And then a few more states, and then September.
Time is a really funny thing.
Love,
Claire
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