A Breath of Fresh Air

Last Thursday, I attended the first day of the PGA Tour Championship for The Fed Ex Cup at East Lake Golf Course, which is just a few miles east of downtown Atlanta. Even though it was not a major tournament such as The Masters, in the world of golf, it was big. Who qualified was based on a mathematical formula not too many people could follow, myself included. In any case, I had a great time for a variety of reasons.

It reminded me that I love freedom and I want to keep it that way. I was not scanned in order to enter. The only thing that was required of me, was that I had a ticket to do so. So far, not much different then going to Turner Field. Of course, when you go to a baseball game, you can scream until you are blue in the face. Not at a golf tournament. A "Go Tiger or Rory" in a hushed tone every once in a while, or a roar from the gallery, (not the crowd) when someone makes a great shot, but otherwise, it is pretty quiet

I am not a smoker, (except for an occasional cigar) but I couldn't care less if others do. At East Lake, men with a beer and a cigar in hand was a common and welcomed sight. People smoking cigarettes sipping a cup of wine, another welcomed sight. Everyone knew when it was time to be quiet. And if you just happened to forget, there were enough officials that would raise their hands above their heads to remind you.

The only thing that the officials asked you not to do, was use your cell phone, because you might take a picture or engage in conversation. I suppose that the click of a camera, ever so slight, or a quick chat with your office, would distract the golfers. A reasonable request.

So here I was, in a place that was over 7000 yards of grass, that  let you smoke and drink and didn't scan me upon entering. It took me back when one could escort a relative or a friend to the boarding gate, without asking permission to do so from some miserable TSA agent.

If I remember correctly, back when you could escort someone to the boarding gate, or grab a smoke, most of us didn't have cell phones. And if you did, it wasn't attached to you like it is today. September 11, 2001 changed all that. The way we now respond to the ones responsible for that day, you would think we did it to them. That needs to change.

My advice. Vote and attend a golf tournament. And I just might order french fries with as much trans fat as I want, Chinese food with extra MSG, and do all of this in New York while ordering a 2 liter soft drink with extra sugar. All this in spite of what the First Lady and the Mayor of New York think is best for me. They need to mind their own business, not mine.

A Swine In Sheeps Garb

One time when I was sitting in a conservative synagogue, the rabbi said a most astonishing thing. It went something like this. "An orthodox rabbi said conservative rabbi's are like pigs", as a murmuring of voices spread throughout the sanctuary. The conservative rabbi continued, "he said we are pigs, because as you know, in order for an animal to be kosher, it must have split hooves and chew it's own cud.  A pig does have split hooves, so on the outside it looks kosher, but on the inside, because it doesn't chew it's own cud, then it is not kosher."

The above is what can only be described as a problem one denomination of Judaism has with another. For me, at this point in my life, I say just take your disagreements outside, stand back to back, take ten steps, turn and then fire away and make sure no innocent bystanders get hurt, and of course, may the best man (or woman) win. And make it snappy, because after all, you don't want to be late for mincha.

I know. You think I'm being just a bit too sarcastic, pushing the envelope just a tad too much. Making too much fun of what is an otherwise serious problem within Judaism. Well, you're right. It is a serious problem within Judaism, but I choose to be sarcastic because the same orthodox rabbi who accused the conservative rabbis of being pigs, he needs to take a closer look in his own camp.

We have all read somewhere, that in orthodox communities, their was and there still is a serious problem with children being sexually abused by rabbi's or religious men who are dressed as ,"pious ones". It is a world wide problem, just worse in certain areas then in others. And you would be surprised to learn, if you do not already know so, that it is not just exclusive to places such as Williamsburg or Monsey. From what I understand, certain communities have put in place watch groups, that train it's congregants and rabbis as to what to look for in a sexual predator.

That's nice. So now rabbis are finally speaking out about the problem of child molestation. How nice of them. What I get from that is simply this. For years, these rabbis knew all too well who the predators were in their respective communities. They hid their identities so as not to shame their own communities.(after all, only the goyim do this, right?). Now that victims are speaking up and not being intimidated by a thing called "mesirah", which is a prohibition against handing over a Jew to non Jewish authorities for a criminal act, I would have to surmise that some of these same rabbis who are also now speaking up, were in fact the protector of these child molesters in the first place.


There is one thing I am absolutely certain of. The attire one wears on the outside, (split hooves) can so contradict what is actually going on inside, (I thought you chewed your own cud). How do I know this? I just do. The frightening thing ,they look so kosher on the outside, but inside, they are not. One of the problems? In some instances, their congregants and neighbors don't know that side of them.

This piece, by the way,  is not just limited to the protection and sanctity of communities, or the "looking the other way" when it comes to sexual predators. It's about so much more.

Just for the record. My observations and opinions apply to a limited number of orthodox Jews. The ones where it does apply, you know who you are.  Hang in there, Yom Kippur's coming.

Whoops, you missed your chance on Yom Kippur. Well, you just might want to give atonement a shot on Chanukah.

Alan Sanderson
Atlanta, Ga

Why Women Matter

I just finished reading, "Why Sinatra Matters". It was written by Pete Hamill. No one can depict men sitting in a smoke filled bar in New York, talking about sports and women, like Pete can. I felt as though I was sitting at the table with them. Did you ever watch something on TV, or read something, either a sentence, paragraph or an entire chapter, with a grin on your face and not even know it? That's what happened to me while reading the first chapter.

Hamill takes you to a rainy night in New York, sometime around midnight, inside a saloon on third avenue called P.J. Clark's. Sitting at the table with Pete Hamill is Danny Lavezzo, who ran the joint, William B. Williams, the New York disc jockey who coined the name for Sinatra as "The Chairman of the Board", Jilly Rizzo, one of Frank Sinatra's friends, Jimmy Cannon, one of the greatest sportswriters who ever lived and of course, Mr. Sinatra. Oh, and by the way, the jukebox is on. No need to tell you who  they were listening to. And the dialogue between these guys, you just have to read it.

For my Italian friends, read the entire book. If you like Sinatra, you will probably like him even more. If you don't like him, you will probably like him even less. For me, it was an insight into the Italian immigrant experience. I even found out that New York's elected Mayor in 1933, Fiorello La Guardia not only spoke Italian, but Yiddish as well. Why you ask did he speak Yiddish?, he spoke Yiddish because his mother did, she was Jewish! If you don't believe me, as Casey Stengel would say, "you could look it up".

One more thing about the book and then I'm done. When Frank left his first wife Nancy, and started seeing Ava Gardner, women did not like that. They obviously felt that Frank was abandoning the mother of his children for another woman. Frank's popularity amongst women then plummeted.  Understandably so.

Putting the book aside, but not the reason for the hurt that women felt for Nancy Sinatra, and all women who are either publicly or privately humiliated by their husbands, why do women stand up and applaud when Bill Clinton walks into a room. I just don't get it.

Which of course brings me to Sandra Fluke. I don't know how old she is, but from what I understand, she is still in college. So correct me if I am wrong. She wants the American taxpayer not only to pay for her birth control, she also wants the American tax payer to pay for sex change operations too. I would suspect that Miss Fluke may have doubled up on a dose of something here or there.

Mr. Sinatra, wherever you are, I think as an entertainer, you were the greatest of all time. As for you President Clinton, when you moved to the center, you did a pretty good job with the economy, but did you really not inhale or have sex with that woman? 

In Case You Were Wondering Part 11

"As I was walking through the parking lot", the rabbi began his sermon one shabbos, "I couldn't help but notice how few late model cars there were. Then I realized, the majority of you people here, have committed the ultimate sacrifice in setting your priorities straight, by giving your children a Jewish education, by sending them to Jewish day schools". "Laugh, Laugh" went the the congregation. Guess what, I was one of those who the rabbi so glowingly referred to as "committing this ultimate sacrifice". Actually, I would pray that after shabbos, this 'sacraficial' car of mine would actually start.

That had to be about $180,000 ago, whoops, I mean quite a number of years ago. Quite honestly, I felt kind of proud at the time. After all, here I am, the product of secular Zionist parents, along with my wife (you should hear her story), securing for our children all the benefits of a Jewish education, not just any old Jewish education, but an orthodox one. Not Hebrew school 2-3 times a week. NO! Five solid days of learning Hebrew, Jewish history and of course, Torah.

Then Friday night, shabbos, shul, kiddush, wash, eat, d'var torah (never one of my favorites), bentch, go to sleep, get up early, back to shul, kiddush, wash, lunch, (oh no, not another d'var torah), bentch, nap, back to shul to learn, shul again, havdala, ... all of that, for the kids, but of course. And that is in just one 24/25 hour period. Don't get me started on the rest of the week. But for the kids, anything.

Toss in Jewish camps, NCSY events, air fares to Israel, weddings not in Atlanta where the brides were from, NO!, of course not. That would upset somebody else's parents. Here comes the bus and Jill and I were beginning to be thrown under it. A sheiltel would be pulled and as a result, nothing would ever really be the same again. It's just that Jill and I didn't know it yet.

Maybe it was just the pressure of a wedding not taking place in our home town. After all, doesn't every parent like to  feel like guests at their kids weddings. Of course they do. Anything for the kids! Would they do it to us because of a lack of respect for..... NO!, not our Torahdik little ones, they wouldn't do that.......

To be continued......

Do You Ever Get A Chill?

I don't know about you, but I have had enough of Michelle Obama's arm pits. It has nothing to do with politics. It does however, have everything to do with a sense of modesty. I have heard that Mrs. Obama likes to expose her arms because she has been told that they are "toned". That's nice. What if she was told that other parts of her body were, well, lets just stick with toned, would she let us have a peek at those too?

We all know that we live in a very physical world. Having the first lady remind us of that isn't necessary. Previous first lady's were very modest. There was a sense of decorum, a sense of respect for the position that I don't see in Mrs. Obama. I would never comment on the wife of another man, so Mr. President, this is an exception for me, don't take it too personally, I just think you should tell the Mrs. to, 'tone' it down a bit.

In The On Deck Circle..........

It is amazing to me that to this day, the potential for greatness in a baseball player, is measured by the physical attributes of none other then Mickey Mantle. Not Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron, Willie Mays or Ken Griffey Jr., all of which had better stats then Mantle. In fact, if you were to look at the career stat sheet for Mantle, you would of course have to be impressed, but not necessarily blown away. But yet, he still is the yard stick that all young ball players are compared to when it comes to the combination of  speed and power.

There is an article in a recent Sports Illustrated about the Angels incredible rookie Mike Trout. He is tearing up the league and will certainly win Rookie of the Year and perhaps the MVP as well. He replaced veteran Vernon Wells in the outfield. I don't have the article in front of me, but from what I remember, Wells mentioned that if  a video game were to create a ballplayer, it would be like Mantle.

To me, that comment reminds me about potential, the potential in all of us. When Mantle was a rookie, he was touted to be the next in line of the Yankee greats. Before him there was Ruth, Gehrig and DiMaggio. Yes, Mantle did become the next Yankee great, but he was not as great as he could have been.

Maybe Trout will reach his potential and I hope he does. I think one of the reasons I view Mantle as this mythical figure, is because he, like myself, could have accomplished more. Mantle is actually easier to identify with then say Willie Mays or Hank Aaron, two contemporaries of Mantle. Mays could not have hit more then 660 home runs and Aaron could not have hit more then 755. The both of them reached their potential, Mantle did not.

My son Zachary is 17. He is an astute baseball fan. Of course he never saw Mantle play, but when asked who his favorite Yankee is, he says "The Mick". Why? I suppose because I spoke about him enough and like so many of us who have come before him, see in Mantle so much promise, just from watching old videos of him rounding the bases with his head down (so as not to embarrass the pitcher) after hitting "tape measure" home runs.

What Mantle did off the field contributed greatly to his slightly less then stellar career. He actually atoned for it toward the end of his life. All I know is that when my father took me to Yankee Stadium as a kid, I remember staring at Mantle when he was in the on deck circle and never once thinking about his potential, or anyone else's. All I wanted to do, was watch Mantle get in the batters box.

As long as I am alive, I am still in the lineup of life. Every morning when I wake up, I step out of the on deck circle, take the bat off my shoulders and take my cuts and try to hit one out of the ball park. I just hope I remember to keep my head down as I round the bases.