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JFK: The Smoking Gun reveals shocking new details about who was responsible for gunning down JFK
- From: Herald Sun
- November 19, 2013
WITH the forensic detail from one of Australia's most respected detectives, Colin McLaren has pieced together the final moments of US John F. Kennedy's life, with shocking results.
On 22nd November 1963, the 35th president of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, and his wife Jackie were taking part in a presidential motorcade through Dallas. Thousands lined the streets cheering; others hung out of windows to catch a glimpse of the much-loved First Lady and President. Suddenly, the unthinkable: three shots - bang bang, bang - rang out. In front of the world, John F Kennedy was fatally wounded.
McLaren gathered evidence, studied 10,000 pages of transcripts, found witnesses the Warren Commission failed to call, and uncovered exhibits and testimonies hidden until now.
What follows is an extended extract from his book JFK: The Smoking Gun, which traces the moment the president was gunned down.
CHAPTER 10: The secret Secret Service
IN the Secret Service lead car, two vehicles in front of JFK's limousine, was Agent Lawson. Prior to joining the President's minders, he had served in the US Army in counterintelligence. He had been given the task of organising security for the President's tour of Dallas, all the preliminary arrangements and liaisons with other agencies. He thought, like most of the witnesses on that day, that 'the second two [shots] were closer together than the first ... two reports closer together'. He explained, '[shots] two and three were closer together than one and two'. At the time of the second and third shots he was looking back at the approaching motorcade and ' ... noticed right after the reports [shots] an agent standing up with an automatic weapon in his hand, and the first thing that flashed through my mind was, this was the only weapon I had seen, was that he had fired, because this was the only weapon I had seen to that time.'
Mother of two Jean Hill had decided to stand away from most of the congestion and had taken up a position at the south end of Elm Street, near the overpass. There were few other bystanders around and the view was unimpeded. Accompanied by her best friend, Mary Moorman, and a camera, Jean had been standing in her long red coat for nearly an hour and a half when the motorcade finally arrived. With Mary acting as photographer, Jean jumped forward and looked at the President; she was unusually close to the main man. She yelled out, making a request of him, 'Hey, we want to take your picture!' Both JFK and Jackie seemed preoccupied, focused on a bouquet of red roses on the centre of their seat, not noticing the woman's plea for a picture. The President momentarily lifted his head, his attention then diverting to Jean. Since the crowd was thin, Jean was able to nudge forward, to get right up close, looking 'right at his face' as the first shot rang out.
Mary quickly snapped a shot of Jean with the President and Mrs Kennedy behind, just before he fell backwards. Jean froze, she ' ... just stood there and gawked around'. Mary was close enough to see Governor Connally slump onto his wife's lap, shot, and also the President slump forward. She grabbed Jean by the slacks and pulled her to the ground, where they lay together, terrified. While unsure of the number of shots, possibly ' ... four or as many as six ...' Jean firmly believed there were two rifles in play that afternoon. The first shots she thought were from a bolt-action rifle and the last from an automatic rifle. She believed the shots were 'rather rapidly fired' and that the Secret Service was returning fire, ' ... they are shooting back ... I did think there was more than one person shooting ... I thought, well, they are getting him and shooting back ... oh goodness the Secret Service are shooting back'. Later that day Jean made a sworn statement to the Sheriff 's department, stating, 'I thought I saw some men in plain clothes shooting back ...'
Mr Sam Holland, a local railway signalman with twentyfive years' service behind him, was on the Elm Street overpass, looking out for the approaching Presidential cars. He noticed Jean and Mary taking pictures and observed Jackie Kennedy looking towards them. Standing with a crowd of 'between fourteen to eighteen people', he heard the shots and watched, horrified, as the President slumped forward. ' ... After the first shot the Secret Service man raised up from the seat with a machine gun and then dropped back down in the seat ... and immediately sped off ...' With reference to the shots, Mr Holland stated, ' ... two of them was rather close together though', and after the last shot he noticed smoke two to three metres in the air, above the road surface, under the line of trees. Another person in the crowd, electrician Frank Reilly, thought the shots came from the trees on Elm Street.
Patrolman Earle Brown was on duty. He had been allocated the south end of Elm Street and was standing with the crowd. He could see along Elm Street to Houston Street and, like the rest of those gathered, he watched with anticipation as the motorcade approached. His vantage point would prove the ideal location to see the tragedy unfold, looking straight down at the convoy of vehicles. He heard three shots and observed the President's limousine momentarily slow down before rapidly speeding up, ' ... then I smelled this gunpowder ... at least it smelled like it to me'. As the motorcade drew near, he noticed a Secret Service agent in the follow-up car. 'He had this gun and was swinging it around, looked like a machine gun, and the President was all sprawled out ...'
Alongside the patrolman stood two co-workers, mail clerks Royce Skelton and Austin Miller. Royce heard the first two shots as the President's car was travelling towards him. 'I thought that they were dumballs [sic] that they throw at the cement because I could see smoke coming up from the cement ...' Austin Miller believed the shot or shots ' ... sounded like it came from the, I would say from right there in the car ...' Miller also said he ' ... saw something which [he] thought was smoke or steam ...'
Railway switchman Walter Winborn was also standing on the Elm Street overpass. He saw smoke, ' ... it looked like a little haze ... but it was a haze there ... at least ten feet long and about two or three feet wide ...'
Motorcycle cop Bobby Hargis, who was riding alongside the President's car, said ' ... I was staying pretty well right up with the car,' which puts the police officer among the closest persons to the President at the time of the assassination attempt. Hargis believed the shots had come from 'behind' him, ' ... sounded like the shots were right next to me ...'
Officer Martin, on motorcycle duty on the left side of the President's convertible, was close to Mrs Kennedy. He recalled, ' ... you could smell the gunpowder ... you knew he wasn't that far away. When you're that close you can smell the powder burning ... Why, you can smell the gunpowder ... right there in the street.'
Patrolman Joe Smith also smelled gunpowder, ' ... a distinctive smell of gun smoke cordite,' as he moved along Elm Street towards the grassy section of Dealey Plaza.
In my investigator's brain, alarm bells had started to ring. As I trawled through the many hundreds of pages related to the witnesses' observations from the overpass and on the street closest to the President's vehicle I could sense a pattern forming, and detectives love finding evidence of similar facts. Not only is it corroboration, but it helps to understand exactly what happened at a crime scene. Here was sworn testimony from a supervisor, several police officers and two mail clerks telling me, the reader, that smoke or gunpowder was on the street in or around the President's vehicle. Extraordinary! I delved deeper and kept reading, remembering the old adage, where there's smoke, there's fire.
The next testimony I studied was that of bookkeeper Virgie Rachley, who had been standing on Elm Street enjoying the passing parade. As the President's car rolled by and the shots rang out she recalled smelling 'gun smoke'. Clemen Johnson, a machinist at the railway yard, also witnessed the catastrophe. He saw 'white smoke' near to where the motorcade had passed. Fellow railwaymen Nolan Potter and James Simmons also witnessed the 'smoke'. Press photographer and keen hunter Tom Dillard was travelling as part of the motorcade, in the press car, an opentop Chevrolet convertible. His car followed the long convoy of press men and woman and political figures, all eager to be part of the big day. Dillard, an astute photographer who was hoping for some unique images, had taken some fine shots back at Love Field Airport, but was under pressure from his newspaper to bring back as many worthy photographs as possible. As his car approached the Texas School Book Depository he heard three shots. Jumping from his vehicle at the first shot, he ran towards the Depository building, clicking photos as he ran. His focus was the sixth-floor window, and in all he took twelve negatives. As he stood near the path of the motorcade he smelt gunpowder. As an experienced hunter, he had a great deal of expertise in handling high-powered weaponry, and stated that 'I very definitely smelled gunpowder ... I very definitely smelled it ...' Dillard later told of discussing the smell of gunpowder with fellow journalist Robert Jackson, also in the convertible. Jackson agreed with Dillard's observations.
The value of Dillard's photographic work would not come into play until some years later, when he handed his twelve negatives over to the HSCA inquiry into the shooting of JFK. The idea was to enhance the negatives to allow a better view of the window and imagery inside the window in the hope that they might show if Lee Harvey Oswald was standing in the window frame at the various times of each bullet being fired. Apparently in some shots, an image was vaguely visible; however, enhancement would confirm one way or the other. From an investigative perspective the twelve 'cleaned-up' negatives would determine who shot the third and fatal round. It would be easy enough to work out the time and chronology of each image, and compare the sequence with the timing of each shot and where everyone was. If Oswald was not at the window, or if his rifle was not protruding from the window at the time of the third and fatal shot, then it stood to reason that he could not have fired the final bullet. The obvious question would then be, who else had a rifle at the immediate location?
All twelve negatives were irreversibly destroyed during the enhancement process, a process that did not involve Tom Dillard. Not only did Dillard never get asked to explain his gunpowder observation to the original Warren Commission hearing, his now destroyed negatives denied him, and anyone trying to unravel the death of JFK, an opportunity to see if there was a picture that might have told a thousand words. Tom's disappointment was followed by his comment on the entire affair: 'a nauseating boondoggle'.
Despite Dillard's disastrous experience, others also told of smoke at the street level area. Ed Johnson, a reporter for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram newspaper, ' ... saw little puffs of white smoke that seemed to hit the grassy area in the esplanade that divides Dallas' main downtown streets.' From her third-floor office window, clerk Patsy Paschall saw 'smoke' near the motorcade as it travelled down Elm Street and past the grassy knoll.
Thomas Murphy, a railway foreman saw 'smoke' near the motorcade.
All of a sudden I had more people smelling gunpowder or seeing smoke at street level. As detectives say, the evidence was getting fatter. I kept delving.
Senator Ralph Yarborough, who was a veteran in the field of infantry and marines training and combat with more than fifty years' firearms experience, was an impressive man and a compelling witness. He was riding immediately behind the follow-up car in a Lincoln open-top convertible with the Vice President. Yarborough recalled three shots and estimated that there was 'only one and a half seconds between second and third shot'. It worried him that 'all the Secret Service men seemed to me to respond very slowly ... I'm amazed at the lack of spontaneous response by the Secret Service.' Yarborough also recalled, ' ... one of the Secret Service men sitting down in the car in front of us [in the follow-up car] pulled out an automatic rifle or weapon and looked backwards ...' Some time later in an interview on the subject with a journalist, Yarborough recalled 'smelling gunpowder' and that 'it clung to the car throughout the race to Parkland Hospital'.
Travelling in the fourth open-top convertible with a clear view to the front were Dallas Mayor Earle Cabell and his wife, Elizabeth. Elizabeth was thrilled to be involved in the parade and had been enviously admiring Jackie's glamorous outfit. Her husband was enjoying the company of Congressman Ray Roberts, the only other VIP in their car, and they were all eagerly anticipating the Presidential luncheon at the end of the motorcade. After the first shot Mayor Cabell recalled, 'from out of nowhere appeared one Secret Service man with a submachine gun' in the follow-up vehicle. After the third shot rang out Elizabeth was 'acutely aware of the odour of gunpowder ... there was no question about that'. Later she spoke of it with Congressman Roberts and he agreed that there had been a smell of gunpowder as their convertible passed the location where the follow-up car had been at the time of the shooting.
The chief postal investigator (the person who investigates suspicious packages and postal items for the postal service) for Dallas, Harry Holmes, was also watching the motorcade from his fifth-floor office building overlooking the Dealey Plaza. With a face-on view of the Texas School Book Depository, he observed the motorcade turn onto Houston Street then left onto Elm Street. From there, he had a side view of the motorcade as each vehicle crawled along. Harry was suspicious by nature, a self-titled 'suspicioneur', the perfect postal investigator. He spied the President's car through a set of binoculars, not taking his eyes from JFK and the First Lady. Then he heard shots and saw the car dodging, almost stopping. He ' ... did see dust fly up like a firecracker had burst, up in the air'. His vision took in the lead car, then the Presidential vehicle behind, then the follow-up car. The plume of 'dust' was in line with the Presidential car. He thought the time between the second and the third shot was less than between the first and second, and that the shots came from within the crowd on the street near to the motorcade.
Secret Service Agent Youngblood noticed 'a greyish blur in the air above the right side of the President's car' right after the third shot.
It didn't bother me at this point whether smoke was seen or smelt at the rear of the President's vehicle, or to the left or right side of the vehicle, or indeed in front of it. It was of no consequence, nor should it be to any investigator at this point of discovery. What was important was that smoke or gunpowder was evident at street level in the immediate or general vicinity of the motorcade. The presence was all that mattered. That's the gold, the diamonds, to any detective.
Characteristically, gunpowder or gunshot residue will linger within a two- to three-metre radius of the weapon, for a time of up to a minute after a shooting, sometimes longer, dependent on the wind and other factors. There are plenty of examples in crime scene records where gunshot residue has lingered for an extraordinary length of time and wafted over a greater distance than initially thought. This wafting is known as a plume of residue, and it omits a distinct smell of gunpowder. The plume of residue has been used many times in homicide and shooting investigations worldwide to determine whether a suspect was involved in the firing of a gun.
Of the prevailing breeze on the day of the shooting, Officer Martin, on motorcycle duty, said 'it was blowing out of the southwest'. Photographs taken by bystanders clearly show the breeze was strong enough to blow the dresses and coats of the women in the crowd in a direction away from the overpass towards the Book Depository. It was a south-westerly breeze blowing to the northeast. Weather records from the Love Field Airport from around midday state that the wind was approximately thirteen knots, increasing to seventeen knots by 1pm. In lay terms this means the wind was gusty and noticeable. For witnesses to have smelled gunpowder on the street in proximity to the motorcade can only suggest (due to the wind factor and the forensic maxim of plume of residue) that a firearm was discharged in the immediate vicinity of the motorcade. But who discharged a firearm so close to the scene as to cause the odour of gunpowder? Certainly gunpowder from Lee Harvey Oswald's weapon would not be evident at street level with him secreted eighty metres away from the motorcade, on the sixth floor of a building, behind a window, crouched down and wedged between boxes of books. If the gunpowder from Oswald's weapon was able to waft or drift it would either have been contained within the building or, if it drifted through Oswald's window, would have dissipated in the opposite direction to the travelling motorcade, into the atmosphere.
Like Governor Connally did on the day, I (figuratively) turned my head and looked behind, in the direction from where the witnesses said the shots were coming. Sure, up high there's an old-world red-brick building, the Texas School Book Depository. But immediately behind my mind's-eye position was the looming presence of the follow-up vehicle, another convertible bulging with Secret Service bodyguards, the protectors of the President of the United States. And one man, it seems, was armed with a high-powered automatic weapon.
Like the Presidential limousine, the follow-up car was without its roof. It was a 1955 Cadillac with two front seats, two centre jump seats and two rear seats. With the exception of the two jump seats, which were occupied by the Presidential staffers Dave Powers and Kenneth O'Donnell, the four other seats were given over to Secret Service agents. Additionally, there were two agents standing on the left-side running board and two agents on the right-side running board, making a total of eight agents. Each of these agents was armed with a hand gun. The only person with a long arm rifle was George Hickey, who was seated high on the left rear seat. He was actually crouched on the seat, his backside was elevated towards the rear seat head rest, a strange and surely unsteady position. He was on sniper duty with a Colt AR-15 semiautomatic assault weapon, a lethal high-velocity weapon made from aluminium alloys and synthetic materials, capable of being stowed easily and prepared for use without fuss with its simple rotating lock bolt. A new weapon to the agency's arsenal, it had only been in use since that morning.
Hickey, the newest member of the team, was normally attached to the garage unit as a driver and chauffeur, yet today he was detailed to the AR-15 assault weapon. In case of an attack on the President, the most important role. His overall experience was zero compared with the task he was given as the lone sniper. By choice of the Secret Service, rounds issued for the weapon Hickey was handling were .223 frangible bullets designed to explode on impact. As I have mentioned, these rounds have a dramatic effect on a target. They kill. They pierce the body then explode and fragment violently ensuring death is quick yet horrific. Understandably, they are the chosen round for law enforcement officers. It stands to reason that should a crazed gunman come running at a policeman, the officer needs to drop him dead, instantly. There are no second chances, plus the lives of innocent civilians may also be at risk.
Hickey had the perfect line of sight to the back of the President's head, which was slightly to his right and coincided with the fatal entry and exit wounds. Hickey's position also coincided with the 1967 'bullet tracking lines' that ballistics expert Howard Donahue projected in his home laboratory.
Senior Agent Clint Hill was personally responsible for the safety of Mrs Kennedy. He was stationed at the front of the left-side running board and clarified the distance between the front of the follow-up car and the rear of the Presidential vehicle as five feet. He recalled George Hickey being in possession of the AR-15 assault weapon and reported that the first noise he heard 'seemed to be a firecracker'. He added that their vehicle had been travelling at approximately twelve to fifteen miles per hour, when it 'lurched forward' and Hickey lost his footing. Hill believed that the second shot 'had almost a double sound'. Hill's recollection of the sound could only mean the shots were heard almost simultaneously.
On the rear of the left-side running board was Agent McIntyre. Immediately after the fatal head shot he recalled seeing most of his fellow agents 'had drawn their weapons and Hickey was handling the AR-15'. He recalled the three shots were over within five seconds. McIntyre's recollection of the time makes it impossible for the three shots to have come from Oswald's rifle, as proven by the subsequent White Ballistics Laboratory tests.
Opposite McIntyre, on the rear of the right-side running board, was Agent Landis. He heard 'what sounded like the report of a high powered rifle from behind me.' Landis, who was less than a metre in front of Hickey, referred to the final shot as being like 'shooting a high powered bullet into a drum or melon'. Landis had dropped his sunglasses and fumbled. Agent Bennet, the person closest to Landis, assisted him by retrieving the glasses. Bennet was seated alongside Hickey in the rear of the car. He declared, at the time the third shot hit the President's head that he ' ... reached for the AR-15 located on the floor of the rear seat. Hickey had already picked up the AR-15 ... I had drawn my revolver when I saw Hickey had the AR-15 ...' The observation of Bennet places the AR-15 assault weapon in the hands of Hickey prior to the final and fatal shot, at a time when another agent had fumbled and bent down to gather his sunglasses.
Remember Agent Lawson? He was overseeing the proceedings from the lead car, looking back towards the President's vehicle and the follow-up car. He noticed Hickey standing up in the follow-up car with the automatic weapon and his first thought was that he had fired at someone. Why did Lawson think this? Did he see Hickey's AR-15 fire a shot? Did he see gun smoke or a plume of residue? No one quizzed him as to why he thought the agent had used his gun. Indeed, Lawson's observation was not dealt with by the Warren Commission in any inquisitorial way. Why not? It's an observation that would normally have an astute lawyer labouring in cross-examination for a long, long time.
In the front passenger seat of the follow-up car was Senior Agent Emory Roberts, who was in charge of planning and had allocated the AR-15 assault weapon to George Hickey. Interestingly, he ' ... turned around a couple of times just after the shooting and saw that some of the agents had their guns drawn. I know I drew mine and saw Hickey in the rear seat with the AR-15 and asked him to be careful with it ...' The fact that Agent Roberts directed this comment to a fellow agent is fascinating. Roberts was obviously worried about Hickey, normally a driver and not a sniper, and his handling of the high-powered weapon. What had Hickey done with the AR-15 assault weapon to make Roberts ask him to 'be careful with it'? Remember, Agent Roberts is in the front right-hand seat, Hickey is in the back left-hand seat. There are two men seated between them, in the middle jump seats. Roberts would have had to yell it, over the men in the middle. Roberts's comment should have received rigorous cross-examination before the Commission, but didn't.
Like his fellow agents, Hickey claimed to have heard the shots and confirmed the distance between the vehicles. He professed that during the shooting he 'reached to the bottom of the car and picked up the AR-15 rifle, cocked and loaded it and turned to the rear ...' Hickey later made an amendment to his first statement, declaring that he actually ' ... reached down picked up the AR-15, cocked and loaded it and stood part way up in the car and looked about ...' Here we have an inexperienced United States Secret Service agent saying that, at the frontline security of the world's most powerful individual, he first needs to find, then cock, then load his weapon in the case of strife. This situation seemed completely absurd, so I delved deeper into the Warren Commission transcripts of evidence, in particular to the sworn testimony of Hickey's supervisor, Agent Kellerman, who was in charge of the detail. He stated in relation to the AR-15 assault weapon in the follow-up car that ' ... this is a rifle and it is on all movements ... it is out of its case, it won't be shown, it could be laying flat on the floor, but she is ready to go.' 'Ready to go' doesn't mean it needs to be found, cocked and loaded. 'Ready to go' means it can be fired in a split-second. 'Ready to go' means all the instinctive training of the agent will come into play, should an attempt be made on the life of their President. 'Ready to go' means the finger is on the trigger. So, who is wrong here, Kellerman, or the newest member of the team, George Hickey? And why wasn't Hickey ever placed in the witness box to answer this inconsistency? In a black and white photograph of the follow-up car taken by a bystander, Mr Willis, just before the shooting, Hickey is seen raised up from his earlier seated position, head and shoulders above others still seated in the car. Hickey is also turning inward, facing the centre of the follow-up car. The AR-15 is unsighted, as are Hickey's hands. If what Kellerman states is in line with correct weapon protocol, sniper protocol, the weapon would in all likelihood be in Hickey's hands, ' ... on all movements ... it is out of its case, it won't be shown ... it is ready to go ...'
Following this section of Kellerman's testimony he recalled Mrs Kennedy saying, just after the flurry of shots and in reference to her now dying husband, ' ... what are they doing to you ...' The Presidential car then raced off towards Parkland Hospital. Secret Service Chief James Rowley's report details the procedural arrangements, itemises each car and lists the agents on duty. Oddly, it does not address in any detail the issue of who was carrying what weaponry. Rowley offers a brief summary of the actions of each agent, listing George Hickey last. He states that Hickey mentioned a 'disturbance' in the follow-up car at the time of the fatal shot. But Rowley offers nothing more, and Hickey didn't ever see the witness box. We are left to wonder what 'disturbance' played on the inexperienced George Hickey. By observing Hickey in the Zapruder footage and the still photographs of those crucial seconds before the head shot to JFK, we see Hickey turn 250 degrees. From looking to his immediate left to turning quickly to look sharply to his right, to look back at the Book Depository. Then he turns again towards the direction of the President, grabbing the 'ready to go' AR-15 rifle. He then stumbles backwards, just before the fatal shot. All this within a second or two, and at the same time his supervisor Agent Roberts yells at him to 'be careful' with that rifle.
Behind the follow-up car the Secret Service agents riding with the Vice President reacted efficiently and immediately after the first shot to preserve the lives of their charges. Agent Youngblood describes how he 'stepped over into the back seat and sat on top of the Vice President. I sat in a crouched position and issued orders ... I heard two more explosion noises and observed Hickey in the Presidential follow-up car poised on the car with the AR-15 rifle ...' This means that, according to Agent Youngblood, after the final and fatal shot, Hickey was poised with his weapon, a position consistent with the weapon potentially about to be fired, or possibly having been fired. Youngblood's observation seems to match that of Agent Kivett, the other secret service man in the Vice President's vehicle, who looked up to witness ' ... the follow-up car with some agent holding the AR-15 pointed in the air ...'
From JFK: The Smoking Gun, by Colin McLaren, Hachette Australia, RRP $29.99
Originally published as Did the Secret Service hide the truth?
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Dr. Stephanie Colorado, OD
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capital market | Mumbai |
Voltamp Transformers fell 1.55% to Rs 487.70 after Royal Bank of Scotland NV sold 0.76% stake in a bulk deal on the BSE on Wednesday, 25 May 2011.
As per provisional closing, the BSE Sensex was up 188.47 points, or 1.06%, to 18,035.71
On BSE, 16,722 shares were traded in the counter. The stock gyrated between Rs 511 and Rs 480 during the day.
The small-cap transformer maker has an equity capital of Rs 10.12 crore. Face value per share is Rs 10.
The Royal Bank of Scotland (RBS) NV London Branch sold 77,500 shares at Rs 495.17 per share in a bulk deal on the BSE on 25 May 2011. RBS NV held 1.53% stake in Voltamp Transformers as at end March 2011.
Voltamp Transformers unveils its year ended March 2011 results on 30 May 2011.
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Pop Culture
Odd Mom Out Returns & Ginnifer Goodwin's Baby NewsBy Gerri Miller
Find out who's guest starring on Odd Mom Out this season and get the scoop on Goodwin's new babe!Go To Pop Culture
Tag Archives: Atlanta
Why I am Not Hiding After Orlando
My face lit up as we entered the room full of glittery drag queens prancing around the stage, singing cheesy, campy songs. Sally Struthers was relaxing in the audience after her performance at the local theater (don't worry, we got a photo with her); dozens of queers were laughing and holding hands and flirting and drinking. It was our first time at a gay bar since the shooting in Orlando and we felt at home. My partner and I have been shaken up after recent events and were thrilled to be surrounded by "family." My heart was soaring as we arrived on the dance floor full of gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and gender non-conforming folks. We felt free in our bodies. We felt safe as a queer couple. I looked around the room and saw beautiful loving souls celebrating life, celebrating love.
So, it surprised me when tears suddenly came rolling down my face. In that moment I truly, deeply knew what it meant to say, "We Are Orlando." This tragedy could have happened anywhere at any time. Anyone could have been the victims. I hugged my partner close and sobbed on her shoulder. "This could have been us," I thought.
As we left the nightclub that evening, I grabbed my sweetie's hand tight.
That night I felt heartbreak and pain, but it felt good to be with my community. And while I didn't feel safe, exactly, I felt at home with my people. Happy.
Like everyone I know, I'd been shattered by the shootings at Pulse nightclub in Orlando. Like everyone in my community, I voiced my outrage, marched, cried. Being surrounded by my queer community and loving allies filled me with hope and connection. Connection to everyone around me. Connection to the Source of Healing.
Only days later, the world was rocked by violence, once again. Only this time it wasn't my people. This time, black men were killed in the streets. This time felt different. While I grieved with my Black friends and community, this wasn't my community. This was not my family. I cried tears for those who suffered from trauma, who were scared, who were victims of individual and institutionalized White Supremacy.
My heart sank when I learned of the retaliation attacks against police officers. My head has been spinning. The world I live in has been feeling shattered, broken and in need of mending.
It's been a painful month.
And it's easy to feel powerless. Scared. Angry. It's easy to point fingers and blame and stomp and run away.
Part of me wants to run and hide and ignore the world around me and wrap myself up in the safety of my White Privilege. Wouldn't that be easy? When I drive down the street, I don't have to worry about being pulled over. When I peruse through the grocery store, no one assumes that I am shoplifting as I carefully place produce into my canvas shopping bags. I don't worry for my brother's safety when he is out in the world. I'm not fearful for my nephew's life. It would be so easy, so simple to just check out and ignore the horrific news stories and be silent.
And part of me wants to hide in my femme, cis-gendered privilege. I can easily pass as a straight woman, avoid gay bars, use the women's bathroom without being questioned or harassed and feel "safe."
But I can't hide behind my many layers of privilege. I can't just run away. The tug is too strong. As a Jew, as a queer female identified cis-woman, as a feminist, as a white person and as a rabbi, I know that it is my obligation, my duty and my responsibility to work toward radical inclusion and social justice. It is my duty to work toward tikkun olam, healing the world.
Today, I choose to be loud. To be a part of the solution. To take a stand.
And this is complicated. What does it mean to be an advocate for the queer community, a group of people of whom I am a part? My people. My precious loved ones.
And what does it mean to be an advocate for the Black community, a group of people of whom I am not a part? My friends. My allies. My precious loved ones.
How can I use my power and privilege to create change in the world? Not as a savior, not as a hero, but as an ally. As a fellow human being.
Today, I choose to take action. Today, I choose to:
* Educate myself and my community about racism, about micro-aggressions, about White Supremacy and about White Privilege. About homophobia, transphobia and the bathroom laws.
* Donate to advocacy groups like Black Lives Matter, Atlanta Movement for Black Lives Reparations Fund, Help Queer&Trans Women and Femmes of Color Heal, SOJOURN (Southern Jewish Resource Network for Gender and Sexual Diversity), Georgia Equality and Equality Federation.
* Participate in rallies, protests, marches, vigils and spiritual gatherings.
* Volunteer to engage local residents in community conversations about why updating our non-discrimination laws to include gay and transgender people is vital.
Today, I will challenge narratives. I will listen actively. I will love deeply. In the words of Abraham Joshua Heshel, today I will "pray with my feet."
The Jewish Mother Thing
I remember standing with a few friends after my oldest son was born. We were talking, as new mothers do, about how hard parenting can be, how scary. We were comparing neurotic-helicopter-mom moments, laughing at ourselves.
I shared a story about taking my son to the doctor when he seemed to have a fever. "His temperature is high!" I'd cried to the pediatrician, who only chuckled knowingly and said, "Well, maybe you want to unwrap some of these blankets when he's indoors." Of course my son was fine, just overheated.
I blushed telling this story. My friends grinned. They had the same stories, of course. About cutting food up (choking hazards!) into tiny bits too small for the kids to actually pick up. About perceived rare (thanks, WebMD!) skin conditions that turned out to only be heat rash.
But I remember, in the middle of all the laughter that day, someone said, "Well, who can blame us? It's the 'Jewish Mother Thing.' We're supposed to be anxious and neurotic! It's in our DNA!" The laughter continued, and then we probably all had some coffee, or wine.
As the years have passed (10 of them), I've gone back to that moment a lot. Because it turns out that as a parent, I'm not especially neurotic. I'm the mom who often shows up with junky snacks, when other people have baked gluten-free, organic muffins. I'm the mom whose kids shower once a week. My boys walk around the neighborhood unattended, own pocketknives and occasionally we forget to eat dinner.
Do these things mean I'm not a Jewish mother? Of course stereotypes are flawed, inexact, problematic. But when I joined a Jewish Mom group on Facebook and saw the effort other Jewish parents put into the details of summer camp selection, perfect birthday cupcakes and finding the best specialists, I found myself wondering, and feeling a little… different. Outside the norm.
It never occurred to me until I saw so many Jewish Mothers all in one place that I might not be one, in the traditional sense. But of course this is absolutely logical, because I never had a Jewish Mother. My own overworked mom, raised Catholic in California—regularly left me at the library until after the doors were locked (it was fine, I sat and read on the steps). She didn't make kugel and she didn't speak in Yiddishisms. I rode public buses and did my homework (or didn't) without anyone ever looking at it. I survived, and learned, I guess, how to parent a little haphazardly, with spit and tape. I learned how fine things usually are, in the end. I learned to avoid stress whenever possible.
But does this mode of parenting make me somehow less Jewish?
Here's the thing—I am a Jewish mother. I know I am. Because I'm raising Jewish sons. And maybe what the rising intermarriage rates suggest is that we're going to see a shift in the "Jewish Mother Thing" in the near future. Maybe the next generation of Jewish mothers, raised themselves by women from a more diverse array of religions, regions and cultures, will be less similar, less careful, a little less neurotic. Because they don't have this "Jewish Mother" stereotype in their heads.
Or maybe not! Maybe all mothers are anxious sometimes and the "Jewish Mother Thing" is a fiction, a narrative we've crafted as a culture, a way of embracing and forgiving ourselves for our neurotic maternal impulses; a myth we perpetuate.
In any case, I want to take a moment today to honor us all.. This week, for Mothers' Day, I want to say to ALL the Jewish Mothers of the world, Yasher Koach! Good job on your perfectionism, or your relaxed attitude. Good job on the homemade cupcakes, or the Ho-Ho you stuck a candle in at the last minute. Good job on remembering the dental appointment, or forgetting and rescheduling it because you took the kids for a hike that day instead. Good job on raising a diverse world of wonderful Jewish kids who will strengthen and alter and carry on our tradition. I'm proud of us all.
InterfaithFamily/Atlanta's Housewarming Party Photo Gallery
On Sunday, January 10, 2016, InterfaithFamily/Atlanta hosted a fabulous open house at our new office space in Ponce City Market. Over 100 Atlantans celebrated with us as we blessed our new home. After reciting the Shehecheyanu prayer, guests shared their blessings for IFF/ATL and our board member, Rebecca Hoelting, hung our new mezuzah from Atlanta's own Modern Tribe Jewish gift shop. We enjoyed music from the Pussywillows, thanks to the Atlanta Jewish Music Festival, ate delicious food from the markets in PCM, and hung out in our cool new gathering spaces like the meditation room, the green room with picnic tables, and a secret room that looks like the inside of Jeanie's bottle. Everyone left with a florescent green Shalom Y'all tote bag full of goodies and IFF resources.
We are looking forward to more exciting events in 2016!!
My Vision Board Came to Life
It was just over a year ago that my partner, Mercy, and I were dreaming and praying as we co-created a vision board for the year 2015. Vision boards are one of my favorite ways to create sacred art; a display of what I want to manifest in my life in the coming year. After journaling and sharing our wishes with each other, Mercy and I glued pictures, colors, words and shapes that represented our hopes and dreams for the coming year onto a big white board. This process allowed me to surrender my wants over to the universe and open myself to the organic unfolding of my life.
My job and her schooling were coming to a close, and I was getting anxious about what would happen next. At the time, I was working as the interim Hillel Director at Vassar College and Mercy was completing her graduate program; we were gearing up for our next adventure together. There were so many unknowns—where would we get work? Could we both find jobs in the same city? What if only one of us found a job? Would we be able to find fulfilling work that paid a decent salary? How do we know if we should apply for jobs that we find to be less exciting? It was a very stressful time for both of us.
The combined images on our board served as a constant reminder of our dreaming process and kept us focused on our hopes for our next jobs. We wanted to live in a warm climate, walking distance to nature, with farmer's markets and bike paths. We wanted jobs that were spiritually fulfilling, close to home and that offered good health insurance. Affordable housing was important, and a progressive queer community was a must.
After months of searching, interviewing, traveling, rejection letters, job offers, tears and a ton of prayers, our visions finally came to life!
We moved into a tiny apartment in Virginia Highland, GA, this summer, just a block and a half from the entrance to the Beltline and a short walk to Piedmont Park. We have found spiritually nourishing communities, beautiful hiking trails and delight in the Tiny Doors Project.
And, most important, I found the job of my dreams!! I love the work that I do at IFF. It's one of those jobs where it doesn't feel like work, and every day is full of exciting adventures and creative opportunities.
I am blessed to serve as a resource and guide for folks in interfaith families and relationships as the Director of IFF/Atlanta. I am honored to support and empower them as they make Jewish choices, meeting them where they are at in their lives and decision-making processes. Officiating at lifecycle events has been truly life affirming. As I work with Jewish organizations to become more welcoming and inclusive, I have found some incredibly supportive community partners!
And, I am thrilled to announce that we have just signed the lease to our new office space in Ponce City Market!! What a gift to have found a space that is a 10-minute walk from my home in the center of town.
While our office itself is quite small, just large enough for four comfy chairs and an end table, it is perfect for intimate conversations with couples, meetings with my fabulous project manager, Laurel Snyder, and catching up on emails. But, the best part is that we have access to so many incredibly funky spaces and conference rooms. There's a meditation room, complete with pillow rocks (yes, big pillows that look like rocks) and a cozy space for intimate yoga classes and grounding meditation sessions. We are also looking forward to taking advantage of the indoor picnic table area—a perfect spot for catered meals, book groups and conversations. Lastly, we are already planning Love and Religion workshops and movie nights in the hidden party lounge. With a big, long couch, silky pillows and a popcorn machine, it feels like the inside of Jeannie's bottle!!
To celebrate, we are hosting a fabulous Hannukat Habayit: a festive Housewarming Party, on Sunday, January 10, from 2-4pm. The entire community is invited (get more info here) to help us bless and toast our new home at Ponce City Market, and hang our mezuzah from Modern Tribe! We will be enjoying live music by the Pussy Willows, provided by the Atlanta Jewish Music Festival, and will serve refreshments from the award-winning chefs of the Ponce City Market.
Working as the director for InterfaithFamily/Atlanta has been beyond my wildest dreams. I am grateful for the opportunity to serve in a dynamic and diverse city. Living and exploring in Atlanta has been a true gift.
As 2015 draws to a close, Mercy and I are preparing to create our 2016 vision board. In preparation, we created a blessings jar—a spiritual "thank you" container, acknowledging the Divine for the many gifts we have received. On colorful slips of paper, we are reflecting upon 2015 and sharing our deep gratitude for: our adorable apartment, our incredibly awesome jobs, our spiritual teachers, health insurance, bike paths, healthy colons, colorful dreidel spandex, etc.
Next week, during the winter solstice, we will, once again, journal and share our wishes with each other and then glue pictures, colors, words and shapes that represent our hopes and dreams for the coming year onto a big white board. I'm curious to see what 2016 brings.
There's No Such Thing as the December Dilemma
This time of year, I often find myself answering questions about the "December Dilemma." As an intermarried-child-of-intermarriage, people want to know how I handle this tricky season, when Christmas and Hanukkah compete for our attention, and pine trees threaten to darken our doors. After all, I've been experiencing this for two generations myself. Haven't I learned something in all that time?
I do have an answer, actually, but it's a radical notion—that in fact, there's no such thing as the December Dilemma. Or rather, that this is a problem we've created for ourselves, out of anxiety and insecurity.
If this is the case, the obvious solution to our problem is to release that anxiety and turn our attention to enjoying our own distinct holiday, to making Hanukkah a resonant, meaningful season. Just as we do with Passover or Sukkot. When we aren't measuring ourselves against jingle bells and candy canes.
But how do we do that?
For years I tried to make Hanukkah appealing to my kids. Since they often spend Christmas with their Catholic grandparents, and receive copious gifts as a result, my instinct was to try to match that particular kind of childhood joy. I didn't concoct a Jewish Santa, but I did spend money. I bought and wrapped loads of presents, filled bowls with gelt and dreidels. I bought twinkly lights shaped like stars of David. I wanted Hanukkah to outshine Christmas in my children's memories.
You know what? It didn't work. Not because the presents weren't appreciated, but because that's not the point of Hanukkah. That store-bought abundance* didn't feel organic or authentic to anyone. Eight days is a long time to slog through that brassy sort of cheer, and also, only Santa is Santa. Pale comparisons are just that. No menorah will dim the presence of a tree in the corner, or the inundation our kids feel from the outside world—the endcap displays at Target, the aisles of red and green candy at the grocery store. Every year we all feel a little let down by Hanukkah. Don't we?
So last year, I asked myself a question—why does this holiday matter? I asked myself what there was to love about Hanukkah. If it isn't a runner-up week of gifts and gelt, what's the actual point? I tried to remember what had mattered to me about Hanukkah, as a kid. What were my best Hanukkah memories?
When I did, I found that every single one was a memory of the dinner table or the kitchen. Of my dad grating his knuckles year after year, making latkes. Of my sisters and brothers teasing each other when we unwrapped boring gifts like dried fruit or clothes. Of the smoke alarm going off. Of drinking wine and idly spinning dreidels on a crumb-covered tablecloth, as we caught up with each other's college-age lives.
You see, the beauty of Hanukkah is this—if we actually celebrate it, it affords us eight consecutive nights to slow down and focus on the little things, the personal, the mundane. Hanukkah forces us to look into each other's eyes every night for a week, and connect. To wait until the candles have burned down to wash the dishes or check email.
This is a miracle, honestly, in today's world. What other holiday accomplishes that sort of slowdown? There's no pressure to perform Hanukkah. There's no long synagogue service or requirement that you take time off school or work. You don't have to dress up or make a fancy meal. You only have to spend an hour every night loving your family and friends fully. Being aware of them.
So last year, we did something radical at our house. We opted out of the December Dilemma. We didn't spend money. We didn't throw a party. We didn't travel. We didn't compete with Christmas at all, and the result was mindblowing. It was actually a little bit painful to register the shock in my kids' faces when neither my husband nor I hurried away from dinner to make a phone call or wrap up a little work.
We skipped cub scouts and book club that week. We didn't go the gym. If homework hadn't been done by dinner, it wasn't going to get done. For eight nights, we prioritized only each other, and it was moving to see how deeply that resonated with my kids—to see that they totally got it. We played dumb board games and ate popcorn. One night we watched a movie together, and I know it sounds cheesy, but I can't remember a calmer, happier week in our household. The kids have been talking about it ever since. They can't wait for this year.
Here's the thing—you can only lose a battle you choose to fight. Christmas won't stop being Christmas, whether you have a tree or not. Christmas won't stop being an abundant overblown season of candy wrapped in tinsel. If the way we measure joy is in candy, Christmas wins every time.
But that's only one kind of currency, and if we measure joy in calm pleasure, in togetherness, in slowness, in conversation and low-stress fun, Hanukkah resonates differently. It matters. It becomes real.
Think about light—there are fireworks in the world, and then there are fireplaces. Both are illuminating. But they meet different needs. If you measure the cheery glow of a fireplace against the bombastic blaze of fireworks, you'll be disappointed. But if you stare deep into the hearth, accept it on its own terms, and warm your hands, you can't help but see its distinct beauty. You can't help but recognize how much you need it.
*the author would like to recognize that plenty of Christians struggle with this issue too, and that for many people, the real spirit of Christmas has nothing to do with the "holiday shopping season."
How Do We Accept the Things We Cannot Change?
A few weeks ago, I bonked my head while getting ready for bed and got a concussion. This was not my first time experiencing brain damage. I bruised my tender brain two-and-a-half years ago after a small car accident when I was living in Philadelphia. The air bag went off and temporarily knocked me out. It took two years to fully recover from this intense blast. My doctor informed me that I was more prone to "re-concuss" my brain because of my previous accident and wasn't at all surprised that this recent slight blow to my head was so traumatizing.
My symptoms include mega migraines, difficulty focusing, memory loss and utter exhaustion. The path to healing includes copious amounts of sleep, hours of meditation, brain rest, bed rest, no screen time, asking for help, accepting help, radical acceptance and deep surrender.
As a type-A, physically and socially active 40-year-old in a new city (I moved to Atlanta in May of this year), I find slowing down to be quite challenging. I love being out in the world; hiking in the North Georgia Mountains, biking on the Beltline, yoga-ing at Kashi and exploring various cafes and shops. I also love catching up with friends on social media and reading articles about social justice and spirituality. To lie in bed all day, every day, for weeks without much human contact or brain stimulation is very challenging. Needless to say, practicing radical acceptance and deep surrender don't come naturally to me.
At first, I was in complete denial. "This is just a really, really bad headache. I feel like an anvil is smooshing my head, but I'll be OK. I'm just overtired/dehydrated/stressed out," I justified.
As the pain and the fuzzy thinking worsened, it became obvious that I had acquired a second concussion and that's when I began to suffer. "How could this happen to me…again?!?!?!? How will I work, make money, make friends, go on dates with my partner, exercise, shop at the farmer's markets, buy a house? How can I possibly slow down again and survive this intense pain and boredom? Didn't I already go through this a few years ago?WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?"
It can be very difficult for me to accept when things don't go MY way. I'm fairly certain that I know how my life is supposed to unfold and putting it on hold was not an option. Being present with what is, is countercultural. In a culture that likes to numb out with instant gratification, instant messaging, fast food, home delivery and smart phones, we are trained to avoid discomfort at all costs.
In Mussar, a Jewish spiritual movement that started in the 19th century, there is a spiritual concept called "Accepting Suffering" (Kabbalat Ha'Yissurin). In this practice, we are first asked to explore the difference between suffering and pain. According to Alan Morinis in his book With Heart in Mind: Mussar Teachings To Transform Your Life, "Pain is a direct reaction to an invasive stimulus and reflects simple cause and effect. Suffering, on the other hand, arises from interpretation and expectation." In other words, when we experience physical pain and think, "Ouch! That hurt!" That is pain. While we try our best to avoid pain, sometimes it is unavoidable. But when we think, "why me?" we are entering into the world of suffering.
Once we have discovered our suffering, our challenge is acceptance. We are called to be present with it. It is only when we are present with our suffering that it can pass. How can we be present with the suffering and accept our lack of control?
For me, this is not easy. It is not about pushing it away and stuffing it down. That only allows it to further manifest itself in another way. And it isn't about becoming a victim and allowing everything to happen to me. It is about accepting my powerlessness in life. There are some things that we just cannot change. When we practice acceptance, we are allowing the world to run as it does. We are accepting our reality.
A prayer that has helped me tremendously with acceptance comes from the 12-step recovery model: "G-d/Higher Power, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference."
I cannot change the fact that I bruised my brain a second time. I am powerless over my limited abilities and the speed of my healing process. But what I do have power over is my perspective and attitude. Every day I have a choice: I can choose faith or I can choose fear. When I choose fear, I spiral into panic. "This. Is. Not. OK.," becomes my matra and I am only able to see how this is just plain wrong. It doesn't seem right or fair. But, when I move into faith, I feel a deep sense of peace and am able to surrender to what is. I am able to observe my body as it heals and relax my brain. My heart opens as I practice gratitude. When I accept my situation, I ask for help and receive the gifts of living in community.
May this new year of 5776 bring moments of radical acceptance, deep surrender and inner peace.
One Thing We Can't Control
My Grandma Harriet died a few weeks ago, at the age of 95. She was beautiful, creative and could expertly apply her lipstick without a mirror. She was my favorite hug. She cooked up the yummiest tuna noodle casseroles and the tastiest matzah ball soup. She lived a long life full of family simchas (celebrations), fancy dinners out with my grandfather and travelling around the world. When I got the call that she passed away, I was sad, but grateful that she lived a long, rich life.
A week later, I found out that my colleague's wife was tragically killed in a car accident at the age of 37. N was vibrant, involved in the wider Jewish community and the mother of three kids. She was passionate about education and inclusivity. My heart broke when I read the news of her unexpected passing.
Death confounds me. After these losses, my theology was shaken up, once again. Why was my grandmother blessed with a sweet long life when people like N are tragically taken away from us so suddenly? How is it determined: Who shall live and who shall die?
We are moving into the High Holiday season in the Jewish calendar. The Days of Awe (Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur) are a time of contemplation, reflection and spiritual awakening. The Shofar is sounded to pull us out of our sleepy routines and open our hearts. It is a time to deeply connect with ourselves. And it is a time to face our own mortality. In the "U-netaneh Tokef" prayer, it is sung, "Who shall live on and who shall die."
As a kid, I was taught that on Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year), we are either written in the book of Life or the Book of Death. And on Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), our fates are sealed. Like many children, I pictured Gd as an old man in the sky, who looked exactly like Moses with a long white beard and a cane. My personified Gd lived above the clouds and wrote two lists each year: those who would live and those who would die. And I worked hard to be my best self so that I wouldn't be added to that dreaded death list.
I have outgrown my childhood theology. It doesn't serve me anymore. This simplistic theology that only the good are rewarded with long life contradicts with my understanding of the world.
I don't know why people die when we do. I don't understand why my grandmother got to live a long healthy life while N was taken from us too soon. I continue to grapple with death. The answers to this are bigger than me and beyond my comprehension.
What I do know is that the Gd of my understanding provides me comfort in the midst of uncertainty. I can lean on The-Abundant-One when I feel scared, lost and sad. When my grandmother passed away, I felt held by a nurturing presence. I experience Gd working through my community as they surround me and my family with love. When I learned of N's death, I cried out to the Mystery. It felt unfair and unjust! My heart cracked open and I felt a deep pain. And yet, I experienced a sense of awe at the outpouring of support and strength from the wider community. The way in which she has been memorialized in countless stories is breathtaking. To me, that is Gd.
Today, I understand the "U-netaneh Tokef" prayer to be about surrender. We are not in control. These words are a reminder of the cycle of life and death. How can I honor the ways in which death is always present? What legacies will live on? What old habits will die? This year, as I sing the line, "Who shall live and who shall die," I will be reminded of my own mortality and how I choose to live my life this year.
Bringing InterfaithFamily to HOTlanta
I wasn't always into Judaism and my journey to become a rabbi was not typical. While I grew up steeped in Jewish tradition and community, I spent my twenties rejecting the religion of my childhood. I grew up in the Conservative Jewish movement in Schenectady, New York and to me, Judaism felt homophobic, misogynistic and exclusive. The traditional teachings and practices didn't seem relevant to me. I was out as a lesbian, I was a feminist and my partner at the time was Christian. I did not feel welcome.
It was while praying, singing and dancing at ecstatic prayer services in Berkeley, California, that I experienced a passionate connection with a Higher Power and felt the spiritual calling to become a rabbi. I knew then that I wanted to share the beauty, traditions and deep spirituality of Judaism and help others to connect with the Holy.
Some of my friends did not feel welcome, either. I was pained every time my Jewish friends married their partners of other faiths. NOT because they were committing to their sweeties who were not Jewish, but rather because they felt rejected by so many Jewish clergy. It was disheartening to watch them struggle as they tried to find someone willing to officiate at their interfaith weddings. Many times this rejection was coupled with the fact that members of their own families were judgmental of their choice of partners.
Through my discovery of inclusive, queer and spiritual Jewish communities in the Bay Area, I reconnected with my Jewish heritage. While working as an educator for over a decade, my relationship with the God of my understanding deepened. I practiced yoga, meditated daily and eventually joined a welcoming synagogue. After several years, I felt compelled to immerse myself in Jewish studies and to join the tradition of God wrestling as a Morat Haderech (spiritual guide).
Today, inclusion is at the heart of my rabbinate. My passion is creating inspiring and relevant rituals and ceremonies and invigorating Jewish practices. As I teach, I empower people to make choices that feel authentic and meaningful to them. I am honored to officiate at interfaith weddings and to guide couples as they navigate their journeys together.
I am thrilled to serve as the new director of InterfaithFamily/Atlanta!! After living in Virginia Highland for only a few weeks, I am already fully enjoying all that Atlanta has to offer including the beltline, Piedmont Park, weekly festivals and that sweet southern hospitality! I am looking forward to partnering with local organizations, connecting with people in interfaith families and relationships, and now that all marriage is legal, I can't wait to officiate at legal local weddings!
Please be in touch!! I am always available by email to answer questions or discuss anything interfaith. Also, we have a local Facebook group and are in the planning stages for lots of workshops and resources for different life stages and events. Let me know if you would like more info or have any ideas about how we can make InterfaithFamily/Atlanta thrive.
I'm looking forward to meeting you.
Interfaith Engagement for Andi Dorfman
It's official: The Bachelorette, Andi Dorfman, is in an interfaith relationship. But we already knew that—the frontrunners in her quest for love were not Jewish, and Andi is (she famously acknowledged her religion when she was a contestant on The Bachelor). Interestingly, the man she chose and whose proposal she accepted, Josh Murray, was raised Christian but comes from an interfaith family. While the Jewish Week was quick to call this a Jewish match, the fact is, it's a combining of faiths, as so many relationships are. Josh's mother is Jewish and his father is not, but the family practices Christianity.
It seems faith is important in both Andi and Josh's families. Josh's younger brother, apparently, has a tattoo of a cross and a tattoo of the Star of David. Josh, 29, is from Tampa, FL, and now lives in Atlanta—conveniently where Andi herself, a 27-year-old district attorney is based. From the interviews they've already done since last night's season finale, we get the gist that they're planning to wed next year, and that they plan to have a few kids. What will their wedding look like? Christian? Jewish? Neither? Because religion is important to both families, we're putting our money on an interfaith ceremony.
A Christian Bar Mitzvah?
I've watched this video a few times and I'm still not sure how I feel about this.
Did you catch that? Trevor's already turned 13, and they've decided to throw him a "
As I said, I'm a bit confused by this.
And, with that confusion, I can't decide what I think of a "Christian bar mitzvah." The bar mitzvah traditionally marks a boy (or girl) taking status as an adult in the Jewish community. With that, they're now able to perform commandments (mitzvot) reserved for adults, like being counted in a prayer quorum (10 adults needed to form a minyan for prayer services). The question posed on twitter was, "blatant misuse of Jewish ritual or can we choose to borrow from other faiths? If so, how?"
What do you think?


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Press Releases
Major Art History Event in Buffalo, NY—Landmark Exhibition of Works by Canada's Avant-Garde Opens in Buffalo March 19
February 10, 2010
Buffalo, NY —On March 19, The Automatiste Revolution: Montreal 1941–1960, a landmark exhibition of works by Canada's first avant-garde art movement, will open at the Albright-Knox Art Gallery. It is one of the most extensive exhibitions to date of the Automatiste Group, whose work created what is recognized today as the most interdisciplinary and possibly the most important art movement in Canada. The Automatistes were the first artists to bring modernist painting to Canada and the first Canadian artists to embrace avant-garde gestural abstraction.
The opening at the Albright-Knox Art Gallery will represent the first time this important work will be seen in a broad international context, with complementary works from the Albright- Knox's Permanent Collection of the contemporaneous United States avant-garde, the Abstract Expressionists, also on view. Major works by Jean-Paul Riopelle and Paul-Émile Borduas will be complemented in context with work by Willem de Kooning, Jackson Pollock, and Mark Rothko from the internationally known collection of the Albright-Knox.
Guest curated by Roald Nasgaard, Professor of Art History at Florida State University, the exhibition includes sixty works of art, as well as photographs, books, and other ephemera documenting the history of the Automatiste movement. The United States exhibition will also include a gallery of related works from the Gallery's Permanent Collection designed to illuminate the connections and relationships between these Canadian artists and their American counterparts.
"The Gallery is looking forward to presenting the work of these remarkable artists, whose breakthroughs were parallel to, but entirely independent of, the simultaneous Abstract Expressionism movement in New York," said Louis Grachos, Director of the Albright-Knox Art Gallery. "It's exciting to see these little-known artists in the U.S. for the first time," added Associate Curator Holly E. Hughes. Although a few of the Automatistes exhibited in New York and Paris during the 1940s and 1950s, they remain largely unknown outside Quebec.
The Automatistes gathered under the leadership of Paul-Émile Borduas in the early 1940s. They were inspired by stream-of-consciousness writings of the time and approached their works through an exploration of the subconscious.
The group of sixteen artists published Le Refus global (Total Refusal) in 1948. It became one of the pillars of the Quiet Revolution, a period of intense change in Quebec. Le Refus global was an anti-religious and anti-establishment manifesto—one of the most controversial artistic and social documents in modern Quebec. The Automatistes were notsolely painters, but also included dancers, playwrights, poets, critics, and choreographers. After twenty years of challenging the politically and religiously repressive Quebec society, the Automatistes as a group disbanded in 1960 with the death of Borduas.
The exhibition was organized, and recently on view at the Varley Art Gallery of Markham, Ontario. An accompanying publication, The Automatiste Revolution: Montreal 1941–1960 (Douglas & McIntyre) has been co-authored by Roald Nasgaard and Automatiste historian Ray Ellenwood and includes sixty color reproductions of works in the exhibition. The exhibition and publication are supported by the Varley-McKay Art Foundation and private donors.
The exhibition will open at the Albright-Knox Art Gallery on March 19, 2010, and remain on view through May 30, 2010.
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According to some traditional sources, incompatible with Gan Sui , Yuan Hua , and sildenafil brand name in india Yuan Zhi. B&G. May be synergistic with insulin in causing hypokalemia and sodium retention.
It may cause hypertension and/or edema, if taken long-term. Contains glycyrrhetinic acid which could possibly cause a reduction in thyroid activity and basal metabolic rate. The research on Gan Cao concurs that this medicinal is generally safe when used in small amounts as an envoy.
All these symptoms may sildenafil brand name in india correspond to the aggravation of nondopaminergic lesions, notably of the cholinergic, noradrenergic, and serotoninergic ascending systems. The respective roles of each of these additional pathological alterations remain, however, difficult to establish. Recent data may be helpful in suggesting that the dopaminergic nigrostriatal lesions may not be as precocious as initially thought. The explanation for the absence of improvement of cognitive changes under Ldopa treatment has long been a challenge, however sildenafil brand name in india.
During the course of the disease, patients become increasingly handicapped as motor symptoms become unresponsive to L-dopa (e.g., gait disorders, or dysarthria, appear and cognitive disorders worsen). As shown in vivo by PET , the lack of a reliable correlation with motor symptoms may result from the fact that the dopamine depletion in the caudate is not as great as in the putamen. Neuropathological data suggest that lesions of the nucleus basalis of Meynert might be present in the early stages of the disease and may be responsible for the cognitive changes as well, indeed.
X-LINKED AGAMMAGLOBULINEMIA X-linked agammaglobulinemia is the most severe of the antibody deficiency syndromes and is sildenafil brand name in india due to a mutation in the gene for a cytoplasmic tyrosine kinase. Mutations of BTK impair B-cell receptor signaling and lead to the maturational arrest of B-cells. 2.4.4. The respiratory tract, skin, and gastrointestinal tract are the common sites of infection. It was described in 1990.
Patients with significant defects in B-cell development require Ig replacement and sometimes prophylactic antibiotics. More than 500 different mutations in BTK have been described, most resulting in absent BTK protein due to unstable BTK mRNA or protein.
Other, less anatomically conspicuous projections of non-DA VTA neurons innervate the hypothalamus, the central gray, the locus coeruleus, the lateral habenula, the raphe, and several cerebellar nuclei (dorsal and interposed sildenafil brand name in india nuclei and cortex of the cerebellum) (Kalivas, 1989) (Figure 9.3). Ferron, Thierry, Le Douarin, & Glowinski, 1982. Steffensen, Svingos, Pickel, & Henriksen, 1995. Results from sildenafil brand name in india more recent studies drew new interest to this issue (Carr & Sesack, 1997a. Thierry, Deniau, Herve, & Chevalier, 1980), these studies did not receive proper attention for several years.
Van Bockstaele & Pickel, 1995), and provided further anatomical and electrophysiological evidence that a subpopulation of GABA-containing neurons in the VTA project to the NAcc and to the PFC. GABA-ergic projection neurons in the VTA also send a significant projection to the visual cortex (Dinopaulos & Parnevalas, 1990) (Figure 12.6).
Hubbard et sildenafil brand name in india al., 1997. FIGURE 1.1 Dependence or abuse of specific substances among past-year users of substance (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 2004). Heroin.
The associated medical, social, and occupational difficulties that usually develop during the course sildenafil brand name in india of addiction do not disappear after detoxification. Addictive drugs are hypothesized to produce changes in brain pathways that endure long after the person stops taking them. These protracted brain changes and the associated personal and social difficulties put the former patient at risk of relapse (O'Brien and McLellan, 1996), a risk higher than 30 per cent within the year that follows discharge (Finney and Moos, 1992.
Marcellin P, Colin J-F, Boyer N, et sildenafil brand name in india al. Thyroid dysfunction and liver injury following alpha-interferon treatment of chronic viral hepatitis. Berris B, sildenafil brand name in india Feinman SV. 36:1757–1660. Dig Dis Sci 1991.


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Namco Bandai have announced a new RPG heading to the Wii next year called Fragile-Dreams-Farewell-Ruins-of-the-Moon.
Fragile-Dreams-Farewell-Ruins-of-the-Moon is an exploration game with "ruins" as a strong theme throughout. It takes place in a future where the Earth has become surrounded in an evil fog, drowning out the light.
Armed with a flashlight, players assume the role of Seto, a young boy trying to find other humans. Other details are scant, but there are a few scans from Famitsu magazine.
Who's there? Don't make me stick you.
teh biggest m00n evar.
3,024 news items
WolfKolf said:
Oh, this looks good.
Nintendoof said:
I need to hear more to judge this game.
DragonFoxCoon said:
Seto? I can't play a game with a guy called Seto without thinking of Seto Kaiba from Yu-Gi-Oh.
Wii said:
Fra-gee-lay, must be Italian.
Link Q said:
Seems cool enough, who knows, it might be good.
BrothaZ said:
Looks pretty cool, I'll keep an eye on it.
sidkid004 said:
Ok. I'm interested. Finally some 3rd party developers are backing up the Wii.
Scooby Jew said:
Seemed kind of cool up until I read that your weapons consist of a stick and a flashlight.
Wiimaster said:
First impression: looking great, have to get this.
feb10isfatheraway said:
This reminds me of the movie "The Mist".
Super King said:
Not anime.
Nova said:
To me it sounds a tiny bit like a non violent Half-Life.
Aeth said:
Trying to find other humans? There's a new movie called "I am Legend" which is also about a guy who seems to be the last person on Earth.
wiicloud9 said:
A must-try at the least.
Zendalf said:
Well looks interesting from the screens. But again, need to learn more before I judge. I mean, it really depends on what kind of things you kill/beat senselessly with a stick in the game.
Hey said:
I hope it's more like "Myst" and not "The Mist".
Master Foot said:
What if the wiimote's batteries determine the power in the flashlight's batteries in the game? The HORROR.
the silent man said:
A young boy eh? Perfect excuse for the WORST voice acting ever. If this isn't too kiddyish (if that's even a word) then this could seriously be one of Wii's better games. A good RPG is something I've not played since FFVII (fingers crossed!).
wiretoss said:
The graphics look sexy for a Wii game.
ET617 said:
Oh my god I want this game badly. It looks pretty good and the art is awesome. That song is so harmonizing it led me to downloading it! (you can't imagine how long it took for me to find the song).
Mike B said:
This game looks like an interactive Miyazaki movies- AWESOME.
Penki said:
What's the name of the song played during the trailer? I must know.
flyingpig01 said:
The game looks interesting but I still need more information to judge it. And I want to know about the weapons, it can't only be a flashlight and a stick right? If it is then that sucks. But still I'm looking forward for this game.
Aurion said:
It will come to the US and other countries if it can snag a few sponsors, and a gorgeous game like this will have no problem with that.
Kumar said:
It's an awesome game. It has to come to North America, without dubbing the voice. I think Japanese voices are awesome.
Zack K said:
Looks soooo good! I don't think I can wait until winter. Want so much.
Carter said:
Want sooo much! I can't wait until winter.
The Serious Problem Brewing for Pokemon GO!
A day with Pokemon GO Down Under
Adventure awaits.
Splatoon's Last Ever Splatfest is Coming
And It's Sister vs. Sister
Nintendo President Satoru Iwata Passes Away at 55
Rest In Peace
Nintendo has detailed the return of its World Championship
Do you have what it takes?
Disney Infinity 3.0 Edition Officially Revealed
The Force is strong with this one...
Rumor: Disney Infinity 3.0 Leaked Early
Straight from a Galaxy Far, Far Away...
Mario Kart 8 DLC Pack 2...OH YEAAAAH!
Nintendo should do this more.
The Nintendo GameCube: An Interesting Legacy
Will The Wii U Have a Similar Fate?
Project Ukulele - Possible Hint at Characters
Could it be?
dmdoss417 said:
the Dragon Ball Z: Budokai Tenkaichi 2 cd front vack side other side the disc and the booket ... Dragon Ball Z: Budokai Tenkaichi 2
dmdoss417 said:
the Cooking Mama Cook Off wii front back side and the disc ... Cooking Mama: Cook Off
dmdoss417 said:
i want paella put the onions in the tray chop the green pepper and the red peeper squid and then were done ... Cooking Mama: Cook Off
Dylandoss said:
R type is cool for the master system ... R-Type
dmdoss417 said:
the Crazy Desire Island has Donkey Kong 3 on it it was in 1984 ... Donkey Kong 3
Wii's World is not officially affiliated with Nintendo! (but they wish we were).


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Founded in 1888 by Edward C. Hegeler, The Monist is one of the world's oldest and most important journals in philosophy. It helped to professionalize philosophy as an academic discipline in the United States by publishing philosophers such as Lewis White Beck, John Dewey, Gottlob Frege, Hans-Georg Gadamer, Sidney Hook, C.I. Lewis, Ernst Mach, Charles Sanders Peirce, Hilary Putnam, Willard Van Orman Quine, Bertrand Russell, and Gregory Vlastos. The Monist publishes quarterly thematic issues on particular philosophical topics which are edited by leading philosophers in the corresponding fields. As a result, each issue is a collected anthology of continuing interest.
The Monist is edited by Barry Smith, Department of Philosophy, University at Buffalo.
Editor designate (from 2017):
Professor Fraser MacBride
Department of Philosophy,
University of Glasgow,
69 Oakfield Avenue,
Glasgow G12 8QQ
The Monist is published by Oxford University Press.
The Monist Editorial Board
Henry E. Allison, Boston University
David Braun, University at Buffalo
Roberto Casati, Institut Jean Nicod, Paris
Dagfinn Føllesdal, Stanford University & University of Oslo
Susan Haack, University of Miami
John Haldane, University of St. Andrews
David Hershenov, University at Buffalo
Joseph Margolis, Temple University
Kevin Mulligan, University of Geneva
J.K. Nyíri, Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Budapest
Anita Silvers, San Francisco State University
Peter M. Simons, University of Dublin
Jan Wolenski, Jagiellonian University, Cracow
Achille C. Varzi, Columbia University
Leo Zaibert, Union College, Schenectady