Memorial Day - in honor of my uncle Eddie

This morning at minyan I commemorated the yarhzeit of my uncle Eddie. Eddie was a bombardier during World War Two--one of those who did not make it home. As I speak of his life and death and recite the El Malei prayer,  deep emotions are stirred within me; tears pour out and my voice catches. I feel so connected to this man who I never knew. I mourn for the love and laughter he would have added to our family. I mourn for my father's loss of his brother and mentor; for my grandparent's loss of their oldest son. On this day I channel their grief.

This particular yarhzeit has taken on a significance that goes beyond the personal. Unsure of the exact date of his death, I decided it was appropriate to observe Eddie's yarhzeit on Memorial Day. And although I now know the exact date and circumstances of his death due to records that are available on the internet, I continue this commemoration at the insistence and support of my minyan community, sharing these words so we all can channel a bit of that grief and remember the reason we mark this day.


"Pa - so you thought I forgot your anniversary. Well, at least Ma stood by me. I'm glad you liked the card. . . I received a letter from Seymour {my dad} on Tuesday and he tells me that he made PFC {Private First Class}. You can't imagine what a kick I got out of hearing this. I went around and passed cigarettes to the boys just like a father passes out cigars when he gets a baby"

"You ask what's new with me. There is still nothing definite to tell you. We may as well not kid each other - when I finish my training here I will be due to go over. . . Please don't start worrying about me - there is still plenty of time for that. . . I'm not worried about anything except that you are worrying about me. This is a great experience for me and I'm sure I will benefit by it. Why, there must be a million fellows who would do anything to trade places with me and get on a B-29 crew"

Those words were written by my uncle, Lieutenant Edward Heiss, US Army Air Force, in letters to his parents, my immigrant grandparents, Sam and Pepi Heiss, in January and February, 1944. He signed off, as he did all his letters, with "I am feeling fine. So long. Lots of love, Eddie." One year later, on January 11, 1945, his B-29 fell to the ground in pieces somewhere over Malaysia. Of the eleven crew members, only three made it out alive---he was not one of those three.




When I was growing up, a colored version of this photo of my uncle was on my grandmother's dresser. I was curious who it was, but somehow, never asked, and no one ever talked about him. I don't remember when or how I found out who he was. Once I did, I wondered how my family's life would have been different if he had come home.

What was he like - this man so often photographed with a smile; the one who, as my father tells it, convinced my dad to go to Yankee Stadium one Rosh Hashanah afternoon.








The commanding officer of his squadron wrote my grandparents, "No matter how fatigued he may have been, or how he felt personally, Edward always had a laugh and a word of encouragement, to cheer the other members of his crew and squadron. . . He undoubtedly was one of the best liked officers in this organization."





For years after my uncle's plane went down my grandfather held out hope that some miracle would find him alive. After all, no body was ever found. A musician--string bass and tuba--who worked many high society events attended by high military brass, my grandfather would go up to those generals and ask, "please, find out what happened to my son."

My Uncle Eddie received a Purple Heart, posthumously.

I would have rather had him in my life.

On Memorial Day we need to remember that war, justified or not, will always take its toll.

Zichrono L'vracha
His remembrance is a blessing to my dad, to me, and to all with whom I share his story.

Memorial Day Remembrance - My Uncle Eddie

היום שמונה וארבעים יום, שהם ששה שבועות וששה ימום, בעמר

Today is forty-eight days, which is six weeks and six days, of the omer
יסוד שבמלכות
A day of foundation in a week of leadership

This morning at minyan I commemorated the yarhzeit of my uncle Eddie. Eddie was a bombardier during World War two--one of those who did not make it home. Although I never met him, I feel a close tie to him and need to honor his memory--not just for me, not just for my dad, not just for my family. Because of records that have now been made public and available on the internet, we now know the date and circumstances of his death. But at the insistence and support of my minyan community,  I share this commemoration and these words so we remember the reason we mark this Memorial Day.


"Pa - so you thought I forgot your anniversary. Well, at least Ma stood by me. I'm glad you liked the card. . . I received a letter from Seymour on Tuesday and he tells me that he made P.F.C - You can't imagine what a kick I got out of hearing this. I went around and passed cigarettes to the boys just like a father passes out cigars when he gets a baby"

"You ask what's new with me. There is still nothing definite to tell you. We may as well not kid each other - when I finish my training here I will be due to go over. . . Please don't start worrying about me - there is still plenty of time for that. . . I'm not worried about anything except that you are worrying about me. This is a great experience for me and I'm sure I will benefit by it. Why, there must be a million fellows who would do anything to trade places with me and get on a B-29 crew"




Those words were written by my uncle, Lieutenant Edward Heiss, US Army Air Force, in letters to his parents, my grandparents, in January and February, 1944. He signed off, as he did all his letters, with "I am feeling fine. So long. Lots of love, Eddie." One year later, on January 11, 1945, his B-29 fell to the ground in pieces somewhere over Malaysia. Of the eleven crew members, only three made it out alive---he was not one of those three.





When I was growing up, a colored version of this photo was on my grandmother's dresser. I was curious who it was, but somehow, never asked. I don't remember when or how I found out who he was. Once I did, I wondered how my family's life would have been different if he had come home.

I wonder about this man--the one so often photographed with a smile. The one who, as my father tells it, convinced my dad to go with him to Yankee Stadium one Rosh Hashanah.








The commanding officer of his squadron wrote my grandparents, "No matter how fatigued he may have been, or how he felt personally, Edward always had a laugh and a word of encouragement, to cheer the other members of his crew and squadron. . . He undoubtedly was one of the best liked officers in this organization."

My Uncle Eddie received a Purple Heart, posthumously.

I would have rather had him in my life.

On Memorial Day we need to remember that war, justified or not, will always take its toll.

Zichrono L'vracha
His remembrance is a blessing to my dad, to me, and to all with whom I share his story.

When lesson plans get personal

היום שמונה ימים  שהם שבוע אחד ויום אחד בעמר
Today is eight days, which is one week and one day of the omer
חסד שבגבורה
A day of loving kindness in a week of strength

I'm in the midst of an 8 session course I'm teaching to 7th & 8th graders on the Jewish experience in America. Most of the students are interested in the subject--a nice plus that's not always the case when teaching in a supplementary synagogue environment. And those that are there just to mark time have been, for the most part, engaged--another check mark in the plus column. I can think of two aspects that may have piqued their interest.

One is that they are learning something new--a part of American and Jewish history they have not been exposed to before. It was great to hear a collective "that's cool" when I showed them a prayer written in Hebrew to honor the ratification of the Constitution that included an acrostic of "Washington" in Hebrew. They had also never considered that there would be Jews who were slave owners, as we considered what seders would have been like for southern Jews, speaking of their ancestors' liberation from slavery while being served by their own African-American slaves.


I think, and I certainly hope, that this subject is also making them think about their own relationship to being a Jew in America. I set the stage in the first class as we talked about the whether they thought of themselves as Jewish-Americans or American-Jews, and what the difference between the two would be.

The lesson I will teach this evening was actually one catalyst to me developing this course. We will be looking at the time period of the great wave of immigration to America from 1880 - 1920, when approximately 23 million immigrants entered the country, mostly from European countries. Around 2 million of those immigrants were Jews, mostly from Eastern Europe. Many of those Jews crowded into New York City's Lower East Side, creating a new world for Jews in American where, for the first time, they are a majority, albeit in a small corner of the country. Since most of my students are California natives, the immigrant experience as it applies to Jews is new territory for them, and something I think it's important for them to know. It's not just about teaching them about their heritage, which is important, but my hope is that it will give them a closer lens from which to look at all the immigration issues facing us in America today.

In planning this lesson, I realized I could also make it personal for me. I will be sharing photos of my family--photos taken in both the old and new worlds. I will show them my grandmother's family. I will show them a photo of my great-grandfather in his klezmer band in Poland, and my grandfather when he played with Paul Whiteman's band in New York.  I'll show them the ship manifests from the Ellis Island website, with the records entry for my grandmother, my aunt, and my great-grandmother Malkah--for whom I'm named.

I'm hoping bringing in my family's story will help make this time period come alive for them. Maybe I can get another "that's cool" reaction. It is pretty cool for me to be able use these mementos from my family's past to teach those who are the future of our people. It not only brings to life the phrase, "L'dor v'dor" - from generation to generation, but it lets me honor the memories of those who were dear to me, truly making them a blessing.

Community

היום שנים ועשרים יום שהם שלשה שבועות ויום אחד לעומר
Today is twenty-two days, which is three weeks and one day of the omer
חסד שבנצח
A day of loving kindness in a week of perseverance.

I'm planning to spend this week of perseverance looking at different aspects of being a part of different communities. I think that living in spheres of community is this century's version of tribal culture. It is where we get needed support, even as we sometimes have to also accept unwanted advice :)  It is where we find our extended family, and get to reach out to both young and old. It can also be a place of unfair hierarchies and fights for control. To borrow from Dickens--it can be the best of times and the worst of times.

But like with family, when you are invested in a community you don't just abandon it when times are tough. You may have to separate in some way, but while ties may loosen, it takes a lot to get to a breaking point. And sometimes, instead of snapping the bonds, you get to rearrange the strands into a configuration that has the potential to keep the best of all worlds while still moving forward.

Those are the thoughts that will underlie my posts this week. As I delve into these subjects, I'm open to any words of wisdom anyone would like to add--so stay tuned.

On Memorial Day, Remembrance of my Uncle Eddie is a blessing

היום אחד וחמשה יום שהם חמשה וששה ימים לעמר
Today is forty-one days, which is five weeks and six days, of the omer
יסוד שביסוד
A day of foundation in a week of foundation

This morning at minyan I commemorated the yarhzeit of my uncle Eddie. It is a tradition I started about five years ago. Eddie was a bombardier during World War two--one of those who did not make it home. Although I never met him, I feel a close tie to him and need to honor his memory--not just for me, not just for my dad, not just for my family. Each year I share these words with my community so we can remember the reason we mark this Memorial Day.

"Pa - so you thought I forgot your anniversary. Well, at least Ma stood by me. I'm glad you liked the card. . . I received a letter from Seymour on Tuesday and he tells me that he made P.F.C - You can't imagine what a kick I got out of hearing this. I went around and passed cigarettes to the boys just like a father passes out cigars when he gets a baby"

"You ask what's new with me. There is still nothing definite to tell you. We may as well not kid each other - when I finish my training here I will be due to go over. . . Please don't start worrying about me - there is still plenty of time for that. . . I'm not worried about anything except that you are worrying about me. This is a great experience for me and I'm sure I will benefit by it. Why, there must be a million fellows who would do anything to trade places with me and get on a B-29 crew"

Those words were written by my uncle, Lieutenant Edward Heiss, US Army Air Force, in letters to his parents in January and February, 1944. He signed off, as he did all his letters, with "I am feeling fine. So long. Lots of love, Eddie." One year later, on January 11, 1945, his B-29 fell to the ground in pieces somewhere over Malaysia. Of the eleven crew members, only three made it out alive---he was not one of those three.


When I was growing up, a colored version of this photo was on my grandmother's dresser. I was curious who it was, but somehow, never asked. I don't remember when or how I found out who he was. My father has given me bits and pieces through the years. I still don't know much, but I feel very connected to him. I have always wondered how my family's life would have been different if he had come home.


I wonder about this man--the one so often photographed with a smile. The one who, as my father tells it, convinced my dad to go with him to Yankee Stadium one Rosh Hashanah. The commanding officer of his squadron wrote my grandparents, "No matter how fatigued he may have been, or how he felt personally, Edward always had a laugh and a word of encouragement, to cheer the other members of his crew and squadron. . . He undoubtedly was one of the best liked officers in this organization."

My Uncle Eddie received a Purple Heart, posthumously.

I would have rather had him in my life.

On Memorial Day we need to remember that war, justified or not, will always take its toll.

Zichrono L'vracha
His remembrance is a blessing to my dad, to me, and to all with whom I share his story.

Mom-entos

היום תשאה עשר יום שהם שני שבועת וחמשה ימים לעמר
Today is nineteen days, which is two weeks and five days of the omer
חוד שבתפארת

A day of humility in a week of compassion

This is my baby cap and blanket
that my mom recently gave to me.
She saved them all these years.
Because that's what moms do....

Happy Mother's Day, Mom

Love,

Marilyn

We should not forget

היום שני ושלשים יום שהם ארבעה שבועות וארבעה ימים בעמר
Today is the thirty-second day, making four weeks and four days of the omer
נצח שבהוד
A day of perseverance in a week of humility

A few months ago or so, I saw that someone from Pennsylvania had visited this blog when they searched "Edward Heiss Jewish." I noted it with curiosity. Edward Heiss was my uncle, he certainly was Jewish, but he died in January, 1945 when the plane on which he served as bombardier was shot down. I first wrote about him here five years ago, and will commemorate his yarhzeit later this month on Memorial Day, as I have in years past here, here and here. But I couldn't figure out why anyone outside of my family would have any interest in him. This week, that mystery was solved.

This past Thursday I received a letter from a Michael Moskow. He is an amateur historian who is interested in Jewish genealogy and Jewish military history. He found my uncle's name on a Missing Air Crew Report pertaining to his mission. Although there was no record of my uncle's religion or ethnic background, Michael had a hunch about him. His intuition was confirmed when he found my blog.

I spoke with Michael today. He would like copies of some the photos of my uncle, as well as other documents I have that pertain to my uncle's time in the Army. I am so appreciative of of his interest. My uncle's time on this earth was cut short. He had no chance to be a part of any lasting community. His mark in this world is faint. But he lived and he mattered--his memory lives in my dad and in me. And now his name will be marked and honored with other Jewish war veterans--men who should not be forgotten.

Zichrono L'vracha to all those who fought--those who lived and those who died
Their memories are a blessing to us all

Memorial Day Remembrance

היום ששה וארבעים יומים שהם ששה שבועות וארבעה יומים לעמר
Today is the forty-sixth day of the omer - six weeks and four days
נצח שבמלכת
A day of endurance in a week of majesty

This morning at minyan I once again commemorated the yarhzeit of my uncle, Edward Heiss, a bombardier in World War II whose plane was shot down over Malaysia on January 11, 1945. His name was later found on the roster of a Japanese prisoner of war camp, but he never made it home.


This particular yarhzeit has taken on significance to me that goes beyond the personal. Make no mistake, deep emotions are stirred within me. I feel so connected to this man who I never knew. I mourn for the love and laughter he would have added to our family. I mourn for my father's loss of his brother and mentor; for my grandparent's loss of their oldest son. On this day I channel their grief--tear pour out and my voice catches as I recite the El Malei prayer to honor his life. You can read the words I share here, and reflections of Memorial Day's past here and here.

But on this day that has come to mean the start of summer more than a day of remembrance, honoring the memory of my uncle brings home the reality of the lives lost in war. There are many families who are grieving as my family grieved; in as much denial as my grandfather, who could not accept the loss of his son. It is important to me to bring that realization to my community each Memorial Day, to hold that consciousness in their hearts. We need to remember that war, justified or not, will take its toll--on the living as well as the countless lives lost. And true healing from those wounds does not come from forgetting those lost lives, but remembering and celebrating them.

Zichrono L'Vracha, Uncle Eddie.
Your memory is a blessing to me, and to those who hear your story.

Yom HaShoah 5769

היום שנים עשר יומים שהם שבוע אחד וחמשה יומים לעמר
Today is the twelfth day of the omer - one week and five days
הוד שבגבורה
A day of humility in a week of strength



Today is Yom HaShoah--a day of remembrance for those who suffered in the brutal Holocaust brought on by Adolf Hitler and his supporters in Nazi Germany--honoring both those who we lost and those who survived. I encourage you all to visit the Holocaust Survivors and Remembrance Project. Scroll down, enter the site, take some time today to remember. We must remember, we must never forget--for to forget dooms other innocent people who could be imprisoned, tortured, and murdered for no reason other than the fact that they exist.

This year, with the loss of my dear friend Mitzi Wilner, the remembrance is touching me deeply. Mitzi survived by living as a Catholic nanny using her best friend's papers with her friend's maiden name. But her parents, her sisters, and much of her family were captured in the German "actions" in her Polish town. It was so important, each year, for her to honor their memories. Now, in honoring her memory, I honor them as well.



I would also like to honor those of my family that were lost. Above you see a postcard sent to my grandmother in 1933. It's a photo of her sister Mantzi with her husband Josef Vogel and their children. She and her family perished in 1942 when the Nazi's took over the town and sent all the Jews to a death camp.

לא תשכח
We will never forget

Omer 5768 - Day 36 - 5 weeks & 1 day

Today is Chesed she b'Yesod - a day of loving kindness in a week of foundation.

In the US we have lost the rituals of our national commemorations. We move as many of our holidays as we can to Mondays, ignoring the significance of the day. Even when the original date is picked somewhat randomly, there is a meaning associated with that particular day. But whatever that association is recedes into a long weekend devoted to play, food, and shopping. Now I have nothing against any of those pursuits, but making every national holiday centered around things strips each one of its unique reason for being.

Memorial Day certainly fits that description. While the original date chosen-May 30-has no particular significance, the day was designated in 1868 to honor the Civil War dead. After World War I it became a day to remember all who were lost in war. But that seems lost to Americans these days. Even as our country is involved in warfare, even as young men and women are losing their lives in the midst of battles, most of us just revel in the time off with no thought to its kavannah, its intention.

I have added a personal commemoration to this day which allows me to honor the day as it was intended. On Memorial Day 2005 I wrote a post about my Uncle Eddie, my father's brother, who died in a Japanese prisoner of war camp after being captured when his B-29 was shot down over Malaysia in January, 1945. Last year I began a tradition by making Memorial Day Uncle Eddie's yarhzeit, the annual remembrance of a person's death.

This morning at minyan I once again observed Eddie's yarhzeit. I led the davening, and before reciting the El Malei prayer I shared my 2005 blog post with all who were gathered in the chapel. I was surprised by the deep emotions that surfaced; tears streamed down my face as I read. When I looked up, I saw tears reflected in the eyes of all around me. A special moment was created, touching all of us with the spirit of the day. As we honored my uncle, we honored all who have been lost in war.

Zichrono l'vracha, Uncle Eddie - today your memory truly was a blessing.

Omer 5768 - Day 5

Today is Hod she b'Chesed - a day of humility in a week of loving kindness.

Yesterday afternoon I went to the A's game with Eric Stone and his 4 1/2 year old son Benjamin. It's a tradition Eric has started with Benjamin--going to a baseball game during Hol Ha'Moed Pesach--the intermediate days of Passover. Eric calls it their "matzah ball" game. I think this is the second or third time they've done this.

During a conversation when Eric was explaining Benjamin's history of attending baseball games, Eric asked Benjamin a couple of times, "do you remember that?" Each time, Benjamin shook his head "no." Now, these were events that happened two or three years ago--half of Benjamin's life. A lot has happened to him in that time--he can't be expected to remember everything that happened. After all, do I remember everything that happened when I was in my 20s??

But I began to think about my earliest memories--what has stuck with me? I have pictures in my mind of going with my dad with a sled to get his drums out of the car after a blizzard--I'm six or seven. I can remember being the last one in my kindergarten class to learn to tie her shoes. I can remember sitting on Pop's--my grandfather--lap at a seder, eating the matzah he hid under the tablecloth. I must of been about five, obviously unclear about the concept of the Afikoman. I can remember being hoisted onto the kitchen counter in my great-grandmother's kitchen while she made me a soda with the syrup and seltzer she had delivered.

But what amazes me is the one really early memory that has always been with me, and how I remember it. I must have been under two because I was still in a crib in my parent's bedroom. I can remember seeing the side of the crib, taking hold of the slats to lift myself up and then hang over the top, folding at the waist. It just seemed like a good thing to do, and I was fine with it. I also remember my mom coming in and flipping out, picking me up in a panic and putting me back down on the bedding. And I can actually remember thinking "why is she so upset, I was fine where I was."

We'll have to hear her side of the story when she reads this.

Harriette & Seymour -- 59 years together

June 11, 1948, at the Menorah Temple in Brooklyn, New York, Harriette Levy and Seymour Heiss were married in front of their family and friends. Today, they celebrate their 59th wedding anniversary.







In the years they've shared together, there have been joys and sorrows...laughter and tears.. A strong bond of love guided them through it all.





They journeyed through life--from Brooklyn to Queens to Long Island to New Jersey to California to New Jersey to California to Arizona. Whatever steps they took, they took together. The scenery and the weather would change, but the sight they saw each night was always each other.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY
MOM & DAD

Through all the discussions, your love always shines through.

Remembrance

Today I started a new family tradition. I decided that Memorial Day would be the appropriate day to commemorate the yarhzeit of my Uncle Eddie. For although we light a candle for him each year on Yom Kippur, we never mark the anniversary of his death. We don't know what day that would be.

For years after my uncle's plane went down my grandfather held out hope that some miracle would find him alive. After all, no body was ever found. A musician--string bass and tuba--who worked many high society events attended by high military brass, my father tells how my grandfather would ask those generals, "please, find out what happened to my son." At some point, a letter came explaining that my uncle's name was found on a list of US servicemen at a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp.


I never knew my uncle, but I can remember him through his letters and his photos and through my dad, who most hold a piece of his brother within him. And remembering the life of his soul through me, witnessed by members of my community, keeps his memory alive.

In the morning, I recited the El Malei prayer and talked a bit about my uncle, and how that El Malei was not just for him, but for all who didn't come back yet still need to be remembered. In the afternoon I read the blog post I wrote on this day two years ago - words that touch my heart today.

Zichrono l'vracha - His memory is a blessing, and lives through the heart and soul of my family.

Counting the Omer Day 34 - 4 weeks, 6 days

Today is Yesod she b'Hod - a day of foundation in a week of humility.

I admit that I read the "Dear Abby" column in the SF Chronicle each day. It's my warm up to the Sudoku puzzle that is always placed next to it on the page. (Okay, so it's a weak link, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it :) I often wonder about the letters people write--can they be real? Are they serious? Too many times, it's just scary to think that people can think or act a certain way. One of today's letters was in that category.

"Young Mom in Oklahoma" writes:

DEAR ABBY: I have a 4-year-old who tends to act up from time to time. I have tried "time-outs" and even soft spanking and have taken his privileges away. Nothing seems to work. However, I have found that smashing one of his small toys with a hammer works well. Do you see any danger in this form of punishment?

This is hard to take on so many levels. First of all, we're talking about 4-year-old acting up "from time to time." Not "this happens everyday, multiple times a day." Not "this is a constant occurrence and I'm at my wits end." A 4-year-old who acts up occasionally. Sounds like all the 4-year-olds that I know--and I happen to know quite a few.

The mom thinks her disciplinary actions are not working. I'd say they are--again, he's only acting up "from time to time." But since she feels otherwise, she ratchets up the level of her punishment by smashing a toy with a hammer. This gives her the results she's looking for; I guess he stops acting up even less frequently. To me, this signals a bigger problem. Her son watches one of his toys smashed to bits in front of him--something I would expect to send a kid into a bigger frenzy--and he turns inward. What a horrible lesson and a disturbing sign.

At least the mom seems to have some inkling that there could be a problem. She is writing to ask if there could be some danger in her actions. Dear Abby sets her straight:

DEAR YOUNG MOM: I certainly do. Smashing a child's toy with a hammer carries the same message that an abusive husband delivers when he smashes his fist through a wall. It implies, "You're next!" If you continue punishing your child in this way, he could begin modeling his behavior after yours and destroy other people's property -- including yours -- when he's angry.Take the toy away if that's the only way to get through to your son. Tell him that it will be given to a child who has no toys to play with. But do not destroy the toy in front of your child.

It's hard for me to imagine that someone needs to be told that smashing a child's toy in front of him is wrong. It's also hard not to make the association with the recent tragedy at Virginia Tech or the massacre at Columbine. What children perceive early in their lives often manifests itself as they grow into adulthood. Now, I'm not blaming the parents for everything their children do--while I have no children, I am aware of the enormous job and responsibility it is to be a parent. Often there are factors totally out of the control of the most caring families. If you have any doubt of this, read "And I Don't Want to Live This Life", the story of Nancy Spungen, the punk scene, wild child, heroin addict who was murdered by her boyfriend, Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols. Written by her mother, it chronicles the tale of a family trying to exist with an out of control, mentally ill, misdiagnosed child, and having to cope with the adult she becomes.

There is never any guarantee of how our children will act and think as adults. But we need to give them a strong foundation of love, spirit, and ethics. We need to teach them to treat others with respect, and to have humility concerning their place in the world. With those basics at their center, we have a better chance to see them grow into loving, caring adults.

Editing and Music

There are musical genes passed along in my family. My grandfather was a musician by profession--first in Eastern Europe and then in the US. He played bass for Paul Whiteman and Emil Colman among others. My dad had a scholarship to the NY Philharmonic for timpani before World War II came around and disrupted things. He played drums professionally as a second job for many years.

I've always felt that those genes are evident in my makeup when I edit.I have an innate sense of pacing and timing for a piece--whatever that pacing and timing need to be.

Someone on one of my editing user group listserves feels the same link between music and editing. As an example, he pointed us to this video on YouTube, which I now share with you.

Finding my wayonline

I've finally found out where to get online in Porirua, the town closest to where Ken's parent's live at Titahi Bay. I've written a long tome about the trip into New Zealand, but I'm at the library, and can't attach my thumb drive here, so that entry will have to wait until I get to Sydney this evening.

It's amazing to me how quickly I've adapted to being here. I'm not driving--that's a bit too advanced for me--but I do manage to look the correct way when crossing the street. I've been here enough to be familiar with the surroundings, which is comforting. The weather's been good--warm and sunny.

I'll write later this week about what's happening with Ken's mom, which is the reason we are here. She's okay at the moment, but there have been two ambulance trips to the hospital since we've been here due to epileptic attacks she's had. One thing to note--it's nice to not have cost factor into the decision of whether to call the ambulance or not. Unlike in the States, it's free.

More from Sydney............