Thursday, June 25, 2009

Kinship from an unlikely source

Hubs somehow found out about a publication and decided to try the free copy to see if it was something he'd like. Predictably, he hasn't cracked the cover while I've read it in its entirety (if it weren't for me, none of his alumni or IDSA magazines/newsletters would be read either HAHA!). I didn't know what to expect from something he's chosen, his interests are so varied and he likes to read things that are way outside his world in order to learn more about others. Anyway...
The magazine was The Sun, here's an interesting interview with it's publisher that gives some idea as to the content of the magazine.
You never can tell where you'll find kinship in this world, but that fact of the matter is that people are more alike than different (aside from those with serious psychosis of course). One of the regular features is from the publisher and this month had an entry that rang true with me. I've never really stopped to think what I might have in common with a 60 year old, journalist, Jewish, man. But now that the connection has been brought to my attention, perhaps I'll remember to look for the connections I might have with others with a broader stroke. If nothing else, he and I like to start sentences with "but"!
Here's the portion that made me stop and think about this
(I also really loved the article by John Malkin and learned something about MLK that I didn't know, thanks public school education)
From: The Sun, June 2009 Issue
Excerpted from "Sy Safransky's Notebook"
If I do nothing else today, let me remember to stop maligning myself. What an ingrained habit that is: the finger-wagging and finger-pointing, my own Republican attack machine finding fault with nearly everything I do. "Sy Safransky wants us to believe there are only twenty-four hours in a day. That's not change we can believe in." "Sy Safransky insists he's doing the best he can. But his best clearly isn't good enough." What do I say to the bullies in the room, to the disembodied scolding voices of the dead parents and dead teachers and dead rabbis? They're all gone now, and I'm a man in my sixties, a voice of authority myself. Why be pushed around by ghosts? Why try to curry favor with them by making jokes at my own expense? What a rich tradition of self-effacing mockery can I draw upon: the gallows humor of shtetl Jews who considered it a good day if they could make their tormentors laugh. But those tormentors are dead, too, just more ghosts jockeying for a place in line. So listen up, ghosts: After all these years of being criticized and diminished and demeaned, I say, Enough! A man's home can't be his castle if he's living in a haunted house. So, by the power invested in me by the consciousness that is my birthright, I shove my boot up your phantasmagoric asses and kick you our the door.

1 comment:

ViolinMama said...

wow! If only I could do that on a more consistent basis to the voices in my head.....great read.