something that i thought would happen a long, long time ago

As you may know, Kenny and I like to browse in antique stores and thrift stores, mostly looking for stuff for our various instrument collections.  We've probably been in many 100s of antique stores, maybe 1000.
Every time I go into an antique or thrift store, I wonder if I will find a certain thing--a pair of shoes made by my grandfather's shoe company, Erica Shoes.
My grandfather, Sidney Seidner, and his partner, Sol Litvak, founded the company in the 1950s.  Both immigrants, they picked the name Erica in honor of their new homeland, America.  They made ladies dress shoes--classic things like pumps and spectators and fancy satin dress shoes.  The company sold to stores like Saks, Bonsit Teller, Neiman Marcus, I Magnin, Joseph Magnin, Bullock's, and Bloomingdales.
My grandfather was always doodling shoes.  Once, when I was about 9, he asked what my favorite color was.  I said purple, so he made me a pair of purple shoes.  When my grandmother died, she had a mini-Imelda Marcos closet filled with shoes.  Size 9 1/2, not useful to too many people (other than my niece, Sydney, whose taste in shoes is  not exactly classic lady shoes--she is 20 years old).
Anyway, I have NEVER ever seen a single pair of Erica shoes in any antique store.  Until today, at Papillon, in Jerome, Arizona, where there were two pairs of black satin very dressy shoes.

Erica Shoes, in Jerome, AZ

Just as we were telling the manager about my grandfather and his shoe company, our daughter, Erica, called.  Yes, she is named for a shoe company--sort of.  Her Hebrew name is in honor of my great-aunt, Tante Elsie, but we actually got the name wrong (we found this out years later).  Oh well.  Erica she is.
We have a few pairs of the shoes at home, and a few of the distinctive black and white boxes with the script Erica on them, and a pair of Erica cuff links.
After my grandfather retired, Mr. Litvak and his son had the business, which then closed I think in the mid-1980s.  It's too bad--my sister Martha would have done amazing things with it---but she was only about 12 years old when my grandfather retired.  Alas.

Sedona, Jerome and Cottonwood

I have heard so much about how beautiful Sedona is, and it is.  The problem is that the “downtown” is SO commercial—store after store of T-shirts, hats, native American knick-knacks, “dirt” t-shirts, and crap, crap, crap.  And the owners standing outside practically beggin you to come in.  Very depressing.

We left the downtown and went to the Chapel of the Holy Cross, a beautiful Catholic chapel built into the famous Sedona Red Rocks.  Lovely modern space, which is not my style in Catholic churches—I prefer old school, gothic, like St. Agnes in West Chester.  Beautiful gardens, too. Around the corner from the chapel is the most ostentatious house and property I have ever seen.  I think they really wanted to stick it to the church or something.

Chapel of the Holy Cross

around the corner from the Chapel of the Holy Cross--gross house, spectacular red rocks!

sweet

We climbed to Observation Point, at Airport Mesa, which is a vortex.  A vortex is a place where there is specialized energy from the earth that “sensitive” people can pick up on.  Neither one of us felt it.  Met a nice man on top, from Mexico, who climbs up to it most days to sit on the vortex and “get energy.”  He was kind enough to show us an easy way down.  Here’s my take on Sedona—the scenery is gorgeous, the rocks are beautiful, it is very hot in June, on the longest day of the year, and the town itself—skip it!

at the vortex

Next, to Cottonwood, a lovely little town with a lot of antique stores and artsy places.  Had a great iced coffee and homemade gelato at Crema.  We went to the biggest biggest antique store that I have ever seen.  We got there at 4, and the owners said, “Welcome, we close at 5, and you won’t be able to see everything.”  That was an understatement!  Inside, outside, barns, outbuildings, stuff everywhere.

one of many great vintage signs

so much stuff, so little time

They had a great toy Magnus Accordion that we don’t have.  The label said, “with box,” but it wasn’t with the box!  The person whose booth it is wasn’t there.  We looked in a bunch of places for the box, with no luck.  We may go back tomorrow to get it, if the owner finds it.  We did buy a cute red, white and blue metal kazoo with a horn on it, with the box.

On to Jerome, which Barry and Goldie told us about.  The B&B they stayed in was full; the owner recommended the Connor Hotel, circa 1898.  Really nice place.  In the lobby, we met someone whose family is from West Chester, and whose name is on a wing at the Chester County Hospital (Spackman), and whose cousin is a student of Kenny’s at Westtown.

signs at the bar at Quince

did you know that Rolling Rock is not brewed in Latrobe any more?
it is brewed in.......Newark, New Jersey!

the guy in the jeans is a Spackman

The manager or maybe owner of the hotel is a musician named John Ziegler.  He plays in a band called Major Lingo.  After a great dinner at Quince/15—the best chile rellenos I have eaten (I often order this in a Mexican restaurant—“vegetarian friendly”), we sat outside in the cool of the evening, talking with John about music.  Everything from Carl Maria von Weber to Mahler to Adams to Sublime.   Really nice.

Zion Ponderosa

We’ve had a variety of accommodations on our trip—staying with family and friends, staying in some hip hotels, and camping.  I couldn’t get a tent site in Zion National Park, so we got one at a place called Zion Ponderosa, about 5 miles from the east entrance to Zion, and about 90 minutes from Bryce.

We had a bit of a problem with the tent and the air mattress.  Basically, one did not fit into the other.  Robin will be getting a new tent, since one “window” was ripped in our efforts to “make it fit!”  It’s a good thing that there are no bugs at night and no dew in the morning, since we are pretty much open on one side.

setting up the air mattress that does not fit

"make it fit"

Zion Ponderosa is the kind of campground that even Sam would love—ATV and motorcycle rentals, paintball, mini-golf, a rec room with ping-pong and pool, a pool and a hot tub, two restaurants, horseback riding, jeep tours, etc…...We didn’t partake of many of these things, but we did go to the little rodeo on Saturday night.  In addition to horse riders of a variety of types, they called all of the kids in for a race.  The hysterical thing about the race is that the kids had to take of one shoe, run to the fence and back, put their shoe back on and run to the fence again.  The thing is that their shoes were thrown all over the arena while they were running the other way….

rodeo dude

missing shoe race

Bryce Canyon

Kenny riding Dixie, a sluggish mule that only went one speed--SLOW

hoodoos

Elyse on Winchester, Kenny on Dixie--after 2 hours!

more hoodoos

the bottom of Bryce Canyon

this is on EARTH

naturally-formed arch

Bryce Canyon isn’t really a canyon, because it was not created by a river.  We’ve been learning a lot about geology, and the formations in Bryce are awesome and eerie.  They are called hoodoos.  The native Americans avoided Bryce because they thought that these formations were humans that had been turned into stone.

We rode mules into the bottom of the canyon, which was great and, at times, terrifying.  Mules like to walk VERY close to the edge.  They mostly just follow the guy in front, but it was still scary.

After we got off the mules, we then walked ourselves into the canyon, which meant we had to walk back up.  Hot, dehydrated, and exhausted after seeing some beautiful marvels.

on the res in tuba city

We drove through quite alot of the Navajo Reservation in Arizona.  It has an area of 26,000 square miles, a bit larger than the of the state of West Virginia.  The level of poverty we witnessed is very depressing.  Many homes are run-down trailers, with lots of rusty cars and other stuff in the yard.  Our friend Joe, who is a colonel in the United States Public Health Service, has served as an internist on "the res" for about 25 years.  He and his wife, Kate, a family doctor, have raised their 3 college-aged kids in government housing in a town where the only non-native Americans are hospital employees.
The Tuba City Hospital has 65 in-patient beds, but they have 100,000 out-patient visits a year.  They have an ICU and some specialists, but fly out people with heart attacks and things like that.  Native Americans have all of their health care costs paid for, including medications.  They have high incidences of diabetes, alcohol abuse, and meth abuse.  Joe and Kate have seen some improvements in the lives of those on the reservation, particularly in education.
We visited a canyon on the res, where we found some Jurassic-era oyster shell fossils.  The cows were chilling at the canyon also.

sign on the door of the Tuba City Hospital

home on the res

"little" neighborhood canyon about 15 miles from Joe and Kate's house

Joe and Kenny--West Essex Class of 1975

a question for discussion--"A Christian Ministry in the National Parks"

We arrived at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon yesterday, around 5:30 pm.  It was a long, long drive.   Five million (!!) people visit the Grand Canyon each year, but only 10% of those go to the North Rim--it is farther away from everywhere, there are no museums, bus tours, etc.  Which is partly why we picked it--also it is not so far from Zion and Bryce Canyons, our next stops.


Anyway...after checking in at the beautiful Grand Canyon Lodge, we were reading the postings of activities happening for the week.  There was a sign for "interdenominational Christian worship" that happens in the auditorium every Wednesday at 6 pm and every Sunday at 10 am.  It was 5:50 pm on Wednesday, so I that I would check it out.  Kenny declined, and portered all of our stuff through the trees to our little room at the farthest edge of the accommodations.


I went to the auditorium, which is a magnificent space made of towering loges, decorated with Native American symbols, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Grand Canyon--mah nora hamakom hazeh--how awesome is this place.


The worship is organized by ACMNP, "A Christian Ministry in the National Parks."  Begun in 1951, they provide young Christians with opportunities for ministry in the national parks, helping them to get work with a concessionairre--there are different ones in different parks, like Aramark and Foreveresorts.  In their off-time, they organize worship and do "informal" ministry for people visiting the park.


The 3 young women and one young man were lovely, energetic, clean-cut, kids from Texas, Ohio, and Arizona.  The worship was very casual, lots of spontaneous prayer from the kids, about 15-20 people were there for the 30 minute worhip, which was primarily  hymns, mostly what I would call "modern" ones, written in the 1990s or later.  Mostly about how Christ died for us.  The message was on The Lord's Prayer, which I have studied pretty extensively (for a Jewish person).  The young lady who spoke about it gave a very fresh-faced explanation--simple, sweet, like she was, nothing very deep or thought-provoking.  


The only hymn I could completely participate in was "Sanctuary," which we sing in Jewish Renewal settings and in my community, The Jewish Fellowship of Chester County, often with the Hebrew words added.  I call this a "cross-over" kind of hymn, one in which many many people can participate.

Oh lord prepare me To be a sanctuary

Pure and holy Tried and true

And with thanksgiving I’ll be a living Sanctuary For you

V'asu li mikdash v'shachanti betocham. 

(tranlsation=Let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them)

The Hebrew is from Exodus/Shmot 25:8.


A woman sitting next to me started singing harmony, it was very beautiful.  I then joined in with the Hebrew, not loud, just there.  After it ended, the woman next to me said, "That was beautiful, thank you."


So my question for discussion is--does anyone feel uncomfortable with the idea of "A Christian Ministry in the National Parks," and their relationship with the employers there?  Does it smack of favoritism in hiring?  What would happen if "A Muslim Ministry in the National Parks" wanted to meet in the auditorium for worship on Fridays?  Or if Chabad sent teams of young folks to do Jewish worship and outreach in the national parks?  The young people were very clear to say that no money from the government supports their work, but the more I thought about it, the less benign I felt about it.  


I went to the ACMNP website, acmnp.com, to try to figure out how they coordinated with the concessionairres, but could not.  


Let me hear what you think....


 

Eat what you kill.....(not for the squeamish)

"Eat what you kill" is an expression that people sometimes use to describe productivity and compensation. In books like "The Omnivore's Dilemma," the question as to whether a person should eat something that they themselves would not be willing to kill is raised.  This question has been on my mind, particularly since the scandals of kosher meat and Agriprocessors, etc, over the past few years.  Is it a greater moral imperative for me to eat organic, free-range, hormone-free, "humanely" slaughtered animals, or to eat kosher ones?  Is it better for me to pay double, triple, to eat organic, free-range, hormone-free, kosher slaughtered animals that are raised in the next county, but have to be trucked to Baltimore for kosher *scheching?  Of course, the moral imperative might be for me to be a vegetarian, but I really like meat and chicken, and although I eat less and less of it every year, I am not willing to give it up.

I have long suspected that I would be able to kill something that I was going to eat, but I never had the opportunity to try.  Thanks to Rabbi Robert Saunders, who has a great deal of knowledge and skill in schechting, I was given the honor and privilege of doing so.  He explained that schechting a chicken is not very complicated--one checks the blade for imperfections and sharpens them out using a diamond sharpener (deeper teaching there), one says the **bracha, one does not hesitate,  one makes the cut, drains the blood, plucks or peels the bird, does an inspection of the innards, then soaks and salts the meat.  Start to finish, Robert said, less than 90 minutes could have a chicken from running around the yard into the pot.  Yael, who has been staying at the ranch for a few weeks, helped to clean and "de-gut" 50 chickens the week before, and I, a novice, assisted.

We did not take pictures of the actual schechting, and really, it was a very sacred kind of experience that I felt inappropriate photographing.  It was serious and prayerful.

Kenny watched from a bit of a distance.  His comments include: "I did not have a need to touch it" and "At least I didn't faint."

We didn't eat the chicken, it went into the freezer.  I am glad I had the experience of seeing the chicken be killed, holding it while Robert cut it in the proscribed way, holding it while it died and while the blood drained (there is not alot of blood in a chicken), and helping to peel off the feathers and skin.  

At times, I remembered my Gross Anatomy class, because there are so many anatomical similarities--but several differences--chickens have 2 ***cecums, and they have very, very tiny compressed lungs.  Robert, a dentist, enjoyed going over the finer anatomical points with someone (me) who could appreciate that sort of thing.

Chickens in the barn yard

Chicken ready to cook

*schecht, schechting=kosher slaughter
**bracha=blessing
***cecum=the first part of the large intestine--faked you out--not a Hebrew or Yiddish word!