My Jewish Journey-or- The Road less traveled.

My Cousin was asked by his Temple to describe his Jewish Journey. He wrote a very compelling speech

I am eight years younger than my cousin, so although some of our experiences were the same, I just don’t remember them. I am the youngest of three. My sister is six years older them me, my brother 4 ½. My first home was above my father’s store in Woodhaven, NY.

Family legend tells of how my brother and sister, being the only Jewish children in the neighborhood were also the only children not invited to birthday parties. It isn’t something that I experienced. When I was 9 months old, my parents moved the family to a new neighborhood in southern queens, built upon a swamp. The neighborhood was Howard Beach. The community that we lived in was Lindenwood.

Lindenwood had to be 95% Jewish. I was aware that there was a world outside, because my Dad owned a combination Toy Store and Sporting Goods Store. So on December 24, four days before my birthday, Dad would be working until midnight, assembling Bicycles.

In 1960, I entered Kindergarten, at the same time the first Catholic President was about to be elected. I naturally thought that the rest were Jewish.

My parents, wanting their children to have the proper Religious training, sent us to the Ozone Park Jewish Center. Ozone Park was an Orthodox Temple. There I learned how to avoid the left hook of the Rabbi. Seriously, he never raised a finger to me, because my Dad had become the Vice President of the Temple.

Dad’s position as VP was very odd. He never liked organized religion, never went to Temple. As a matter of fact there was never a Friday that he didn’t work late, nor a Saturday when he wasn’t in early. He was offered the Presidency, but turned it down, because he felt that someone with stronger Religious beliefs should hold that position, not a man who was just there for his business savvy.

I was a lazy kid. Although I could read Hebrew, I had watched those who were Bar Mitzvahed before me, and couldn’t read Hebrew, the Rabbi, in addition to a one-two combination, would give them a transliterated copy of their Torah reading. So I faked that I couldn’t read Hebrew.

There at thirteen, except for the weekly Bar Mitzvahs of my friends, my Religious training had ended. At the same time, I was ending the time that I would be attending school in Howard Beach and Ozone Park.

I was an underachiever. My belief was, “don’t do today, what you can put off until tomorrow.” I fooled my teachers, but not my parents. I was taken out of the public schools to attend The Parkway School and later it’s associated High School, The Highland Preparatory School in Jamaica Estates, Queens. I was a preppie!!

Although Highland was not a Religious school. I would estimate that 70-80 % of the students were Jewish. That was never more evident than in Athletics. They grow us rather small in stature. When I graduated I was the tallest in my class. I was 6 feet 2 inches tall. Because of my stature, the Coach was always asking me to join the Basketball team. I wasn’t very good. To this day, I can’t figure out how to bounce a ball and run at the same time. I did finally relent. I lasted 1 week. That was my varsity career.


Back home in Howard Beach, my friends and I would venture into Ozone Park to play ball. Where about once a year the local thugs would pelt us with rocks to get us to return to the Jewish neighborhood. Once we were chased with torches, once I had a knife pulled on me. This combined with the massacre at the 1972 Olympics, started me to realize how important it is to maintain the religion, even if I was only capable of doing it for pride and not for religious reasons. You see, I’ve always questioned the existence of an invisible man in the sky. I don’t deny that it is possible, so you wouldn’t call me an atheist. I guess that you could call me a reformed agnostic.

During my senior year of High School we moved from Howard Beach to Massapequa (known as Matzoh Pizza, because of its predominantly Jewish and Italian population).

From there I went to the University of Bridgeport, a place where many Jewish boys and girls from Long Island, Connecticut and Massachusetts spend four years. I traveled to Europe the summer of 1976, where for the first time in my life, I was subject to anti-Semitic comments from people that I knew.

I had a job as a stock boy in a suburb of London, when a coworker, who I had come to like made the following declaration, “The only group of people that I don’t like are Jews. Are there any Jews in New York?” To say that he wasn’t worldly would be an understatement.

That same summer, terrorist hijacked an French airliner, on its way to Israel, and took the hostages to Uganda. The Israelis made a daring rescue of the hostages and my Jewish pride.

Later that year, back in Bridgeport, a “friend” of mine, said to another friend of mine, that “All Jews should be put in ovens.” For the first time in my life, I stood up for myself as a Jew.

My education was about to change. I was going to Law School. So where in 1978, does a good Jewish boy from Queens go to Law School? St. John’s University, of course. Here classes would be held n Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah, but not on All Saints Day. There was a whole world out there.

As years would go on, something strange would happen, I’d become my Dad. I’d have no Religious beliefs, (I now refer to myself as a “Jew for Jeter.”) but I’d have incredible pride in my Religion. Jewish achievements would become paramount in the now informal part of my Education. The baseball books that I’d read would be about Hank Greenberg and Sandy Koufax. I’d watch Woody Allen and Mel Brooks and look forward to the hysterical use of Yiddish.

When it was time to get married, I found a Jewish Girl. The world had embraced me.

I now write for a hobby. I do it with a Yiddish dictionary on my desk. The use of a good “Putz” or “Meshugana” is as important as the words Hebrew National on my hot dog wrapper.

I started doing that one day when I wrote a parody of a Dr. Seuss story, called Eggs, but no Ham

Eggs But No Ham

I love the writing of Dr. Seuss. I also love the use of Yiddish. So with the help of a copy of Green Eggs and Ham and a Yiddish/English Dictionary, I present the story of Schwartz-I-Am.
__________________________________________
Apologies to Dr. Seuss
Would you like
that piece of ham?
I can not eat Ham,
for Schwartz-I-am
I was circumcised at eight days old,
and ever since then, I’’ve done what I’’m told.

Would you try it
just this once?

No I think that I’’ll stick to
my Gefilte Fish for Lunch.
I will not eat that piece of Ham,
Nor can I date the Shikse named Pam.
But I’’d like to, said
Schwartz-I-am.

I’’m sorry you can’’t eat
a slice of Ham.
How about a can of Spam?

Nobody wants Spam in a can.
Not I, nor that nebish name Stan.
I will not eat it
when I Pray.
I will not eat it
at the end of day
A Jew won’’t eat Spam in a can
I will not try it Schwartz-I-Am

Would you try it in the Shul?
Would you eat it with a Fool?

Would you get this through you head.
I cannot eat food that’’s ill-bred!
I will not eat them in a Shul.
Nor will I eat them with you, you fool!
The animal must chew its Cud.
So I guess your party is just a Dud.
To a boy named Murray such is banned.
I will not try it, Schwartz-I-Am.

Would you eat them
in the Temple?
Please come here and
try a sample!

I will not eat them in the Temple.
What’’s your problem are you really that simple.
I will not eat it from a box.
I’’d just prefer a bagel and Lox.
You see this Beanie upon my head.
It’’s just not the way that I was Bred.
I will not eat Spam in a can.
I will not eat it, Schwartz-I-Am.

A Shrimp! A Shrimp!
A Shrimp! A Shrimp!
Could you just this
once try a Shrimp?

A Fish that shelled, I will not eat!
Not even with that Shiske Sweet!
I would not, could not, eat his food.
I could not, would not, I’’m not being rude.
I will not eat your Lobster Bisque.
My Mother may catch me, I won’’t take the risk.
A Cheeseburger, I’’ve never had.
Not even as a Little Lad.
I will not date that Shikse Pam. Although, I’’d like to, Schwartz-I-Am.

But,
Nobody will know,
There’’s no one to show
Would you, Could you, Just like Moe.

I would not, could not,
even with Moe
Would you, could you,
on the Sabbath?

I would not, could not, on the Sabbath
Not with Moe. Not with the Shikse Pam.
Not in the Temple. Not in the Shul.
I cannot eat this what you serve,
So you’’ll have more left in reserve.
Ask me no more. Do you have some Schmaltz?
You went to the wrong store, this Nova has no zalts!
Now listen while I tell you just one last time,
for I fear that I can no longer rhyme.
I will not eat a slice of Ham.
I will not eat Spam in a can.
But I changed my mind about the Shikse named Pam
I am no fool said, Schwartz-I-Am.

I got comments. Both negative and positive from people all over the country. I had found my inner Jew.

The Fox Zone

"There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to news. It is a dimension as vast as space and timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between fiction and slander between fear and propaganda, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the dearth of his knowledge. This is the dimension of not of imagination. It is an area we call the Fox Zone."
Imagine a world where the News creates the events, not the other way around. Imagine a world where one man’s view, that only the rich thrive, dictates what will be on the air.
Now take yourself back in time. You’re in your tenth grade science class. You remember the experiments. You start with the hypothesis and end with the conclusion. But something has changed, not only in Science, but in Current Events and History. The teacher is advocating starting with the conclusion and ending with the hypothesis.
Leap forward thirty years. You are now a scientist for the Oil Company. You are told by your employers to begin with a conclusion. “There is no climate change.” From here you create the facts.
Your childhood friend is writing History books for the State of Tennessee. He starts with the conclusion. Slavery was a minor incident in our history. From here create the history.
Your classmate works for a group of men that he refers to as “good old boys.” Their conclusion is that the holocaust is fiction. From here fill in the facts.
In this world, people aren’t doomed to repeat history, because it never happened. They get to experience it for the first time!