A Pledge That Is Hard To Keep

This summer, as we walked alongside the San Francisco Bay, Jonathan and I pledged that we would work harder to invest the money we had in companies that were doing some good in the world. As small as our investments were, we decided we would try to remain morally pure and not support corporations engaged in making a lot of money, but destroying a lot of other things in the process.
Now the stocks are down, and my savvy husband is ready to invest. So this morning at the breakfast table we sat down and looked through the top 100 companies or so--now available at firesale prices. This is what we saw: oil companies, pharmaceuticals, a few tech firms, some financial firms, some defense firms, and a lot of insurance companies. There were also the same old companies,famous for doing horrible things to their employees or our health, but always a good investment. Out of 100 companies it was really hard to feel good about investing in ANY of them. We could invest in Pfizer--o wait, they suppressed medical studies in an effort to get their cholesterol lowering drug on the market and ended up killing people. We could invest in Cigna, o wait, they are part of the health care industry that will not accept people with a pre-existing condition and works to cheat their clients out of getting the health care they thought they were supposed to get. We could invest in Halliburton--o wait, friends with Cheney, and HUGE beneficiaries of the war in Iraq, so much so that you wonder whether we went to war to support companies like this. How about Boeing? A beneficiary of defense spending, supported by a war? McDonalds--not inherently evil, but probably contributing more to ill health in this country than any other single corporation. Ok, fine, Wal-Mart, that should do well in a recession--people will still need affordable clothes and food. But that company, single-handedly, has done more to undermine health care for families, and underpay employees, and kill unions fighting for real benefits people should get, than perhaps any other company in America?
Fine, how about a financial market. Well, it is hard to stomach doing that right now. Along with the rest of America, I am inclined to believe that all the financial gains of the past decade come from a few really rich guys manipuating stocks largely for their own gain, taking over the world, living the high life, and now asking the rest of us to bail them out of their corrupt speculation which most closely resembles gambling, all the while continuing their lives the same way they always have.
I found about three companies I felt I could support through investment. But I did have to lower my standard. It could no longer be a standard of doing good in the world, I had to lower it to not actively doing bad. That left me with Amgen, a pharmaceutical who I do believe is principled and has worked hard to bring important drugs on the market, Apple, who at least brings stylish, cool computers to the market and believes in serving consumers at a time when most companies ridicule you and wear you down before you ever get to help--maybe Google, though they are feeling increasingly corporate. And I supposed Target, which still has some problems, but I still believe does a service to the world by trying to bring stylish clothes and supplies to average citizens. And that was it. Would I invest in Ford, Jonathan asked? I would like to be patriotic. But I am disgusted with Ford. They have spend the last 5-10 years building huge, gas guzzling pick-up trucks that block the roads, use too much gas, and look backwards. I would sooner invest in Toyota, or Audi, or Mini. Not because I am anti-American, but because I look to the future--not to the past. I am angry at American companies that cling to the past and actively lobby and work to kill anything new that might cause them to change.
In the end, I feel this says something awful about our markets. All of these companies, all of these top earners in our national economy, are engaged in behavior so morally repulsive, I really believe I cannot take their profits without being deeply tainted. Is it possible to be a top company without engaging in morally questionable behavior? Or is that the new American way?
I don't know.

BOOK OF LIFE

...a poem I love from the Yom Kippur service we went to...maybe because I love stories above all else

Let us write our story,
Let us sign our names.
Let the wishes of our hearts be sealed
In the Book of Life.

The book of blessing and peace,
The book of life, of strength,
of wisdom and love.
Let us write our story.
Let us sign our names.

Let the wishes of our hearts be sealed
In the Book of Life.

Yom Kippur

We don't do much to celebrate this highest of high holy days on the Jewish calendar. But slowly we are building our traditions. This year, again, we went to the children's Yom Kippur service in Simi Valley, where Adina, our favorite pre-school teacher, and her father, a canter, sing and teach the children. It is a beautiful synagogue, full of white stone and light, and high stained glass windows that look like they were designed by Chagall's offspring. Adina sang like an angel, and I nearly wept. And here is my Jewish family observing the holiday:




My men in yarmulkes.



A yarmulke can be a fashion statement and an expression of personal style, if you wear it like this! Jaunty!


Theo playing the shofar -- in this case the horn of a South African antelope called the kudu. He practiced on the bugle all morning before the service and he produced a long, beautiful, haunting tone! He may turn into a trumpeter, a trombonist, a bugler or a canter.

Thought of the day: I want to go to Israel.

Day of Atonement

I'm not Jewish--even if my husband is. But thanks to an upbringing by a father raised as a Catholic, converted to Born Again Christianity, who lived his life as a military man and believes that guilt is the most powerful motivator out there, I am always drawn to holidays that require restraint and repression (fasting) and reflection on what you have done wrong. And so I took yesterday-Yom Kippur- to reflect deeply on what I could have done better this past year. I think that not working gives me more time to pay attention, and to help out others in small ways and large, that I did not have before. For this I am grateful. And I do not feel like I coasted through important moments blindly, to be plagued with regret later on. But as I worked through my yoga yesterday I felt a powerful anger rise up in me.
It was a mama anger. A deep, protective, instinctive mama bear anger. I am angry at my sister-in-law. She had a baby in June. I was so excited to have a local niece. I have two adorable nieces far, far away on the other side of the world, but by the time I see them again they will have forgotten who I am. And I really want to be an aunt. I want to be the aunt I never had. My sister-in-law was the most fabulous aunt in the world. She spent a lot of time with my boys. She worked with them, got to know them, taught them art and did special projects with them. They adored her! In Theo's school assessment at St. James the only thing he told the school about his family was that his aunt was an artist, and that he did projects with her. She was a dream.
She had her baby girl, and she has disappeared. Her birth was traumatic, and the months after birth are always hard, so hard, and hard to recall once you are no longer in that sleep-deprived, slightly panicked hell. And I try to remember that.
But since her baby was born she has barely seen my boys. She just dropped them. One day we brought her a roast chicken, and Benji was allowed into the apartment and touched Elaina's toe. It turned out he had hand-foot-and-mouth disease--an alarming sounding but not very serious illness that causes little discomfort but is highly contagious.
The baby never got it. But that was it. Since then we have been quarantined. When she sees my boys she will not touch them. We only meet in outdoor public places--parks. We do not enter her home, she does not enter ours. We do not touch the baby. I held the baby once when she was just born, and Carolyn was still in a drug-induced state. Since then, no touching. When the baby goes outside it is under a black mosquito netting type contraption so no one will see how cute she is and inadvertently reach out and touch her, or be able to.
I am a grown up. If she does not want me to touch or be near her baby, I must deal. Although I do believe that babies bring joy, and if you are blessed enough to have a baby, how wonderful to share that joy with others. They are so beautiful!!! But I am so hurt that she will not see or be near my boys. That she will walk away from them. Not touch them. No explanation. Just a quiet, cold avoidance. We are not allowed to talk about it.
And as I was stretching and breathing I felt this deep anger inside. I felt this hurt for my boys. That someone they love so much made the time for them, then cut it off completely with no explanation. I know her family comes first, but it hurts so much. And as their protector I feel rage.
And so, I am atoning for my feelings. I hope that I can accept Carolyn's rejection of me, and my boys, but I hope I do not punish Elaina, so cute and young and having no responsilibity for any of this. I hope that I can forgive, and remain with an open heart towards this sweet baby. And I hope that I can find compassion in my heart for her treatment of my boys, who I love so much. This is probably more of a journal entry than a blog--and yet, I write it here because this is my record of all the complex emotions that children bring up in families. My other nieces are so far away, in Singapore, and yet, as little as I have seen them, I have seen them more than my local neice. And, in those rare times when I do see them I feel like they are shared, and family is celebrated. Children holding children, aunts and uncles caring for nieces. I wanted this so much as a child, and I wish I could give my boys this. Perhaps it will come in another form, through friends...

Today is the Day

Today, after a half year of interviews and months of transcribing, editing and refining, I ship my book proposal off to my dream agent, Jill Marsal at the Sandy Dijikstra Agency. In doing this I am ignoring every piece of advice I have gotten. Every person in publishing, and every person who has gotten a book published, says connections are everything. And, for once, I actually do have connections. I have a lot of friends who have written amazing books. And yet, after I saw Sandy Dijikstra on a panel at the UCLA book fair, where she sat before a packed auditorium of desperate author wanna-bes like myself, and dared to say not only that her agency reads through their slush pile (pretty much unprecedented at a big, successful agency) but then went on to pass out profiles of her sub agents and what they want to see in a book proposal and query letter.
Not only that, as I sat in that audience and listened to these four top boutique agencies talk about books, publishing, editing and authors, I realized that though I might respect ALL of them, the only one I would want near this opus I am slaving away on, that means sooo much to me, was Sandy Dijikstra. She felt smart and strong, but also compassionate and open. I love everything about her agency. First off, I loved, and have read most of her big authors--from Amy Tan and Lisa See to Chalmers Johnson. Second, I love that she is big-time, but dared to live on the West Coast. And not even in Los Angeles or San Francisco--no, in Del Mar. I love that she is training subagents--that she is grooming more people, and thinks that is worthwhile. And I felt that she was tough--but also visionary.
So, I am ignoring all conventional wisdom and going for it.
I shook the trees and the incredibly talented and generous Sarah Shun Lien Bynum (Miss Hempel Chronicles and Madeleine is Sleeping, National Book Award Finalist) hooked me up with her friend Ali Liebegott, a talented poet and now graphic novelist, represented by the agency, who then did an e-introduction for me.
And now, I will send my passion project off into the universe and wait and see. If this fails I will return to more conventional methods. But for today, and the next six weeks, I will cross my fingers and pray that Jill Marsal loves my project, and that I love her.

Look Ma, No Teeth

Look at my boy! Two weeks ago Theo lost his first tooth. Today, he swallowed his second while eating a bowl of familia. I feel as emotional as a mother watching her child enter puberty. He is losing his sweet, perfect baby teeth. He is growing man teeth. He is growing up, away, into the person he will finally become.

The Power of Words

My parents never said what they wanted us to be. When I was younger it drove me crazy. I just wanted someone (my parents! God! a teacher! Buddha!) to tell me what i was supposed to do with my life. I guess I would still like it if it happened--but I no longer have faith that it will, and I look most of all to myself to find out what it is exactly I am supposed to be doing here on this earth. Often, I am lost.
Anyway, the other day I was in the car with my boys, and Theo asked about predictions. What is a prediction? I said it was someone guessing -- with some knowledge -- about what would happen in the future. I used a weather example. And then I predicted what they would turn into. I said I predict Theo will become a great builder and architect, and Benjamin will make movies. I just threw it out as I drove too fast down an L.A. freeway.
Two days later I overheard him talking to Jonathan while curled up in his lap. He said, "I am a junk food junkie (what self-knowledge!) and Mommy said I am going to grow up to make movies. Pirate movies!" He was so pleased. So happy. And he has said it several times since. As parents we speak off the cuff. But our words are so incredibly powerful. I feel like I have planted a tiny seed in him. And now it might grow to be true.