The heat is on

December came around and I figured it was about time to finally fire up the heater. This is, after all, New Orleans. It does get cold here at this time of year, but compared to other places around the country, such as my former abode in Cleveland, the cold is less severe, yet nonetheless bitter. It is the humidity that pervades our sub-tropical clime that makes our summers so sticky and hard to take for visitors and which in winter contributes to make chills go right through one's bones. I remember being cold in Cleveland, but I was able to wear layers (underwear, shirt, sweater, jacket) and I felt rather toasty when all was said and done. Here in the Crescent City, no matter what layers one wears, the cold pierces like a knife. And it is so much worse when the wind blows. The wind is the great equalizer in winter. It can cripple the most stalwart of the brave as the temperature plummets ever more downward.
Speaking of things heading downward, I want to thank the geniuses at the National Bureau of Economic Research who announced that we have officially been in a recession since last December. The nearly 700 point plunge that the Dow Jones Index took yesterday following their announcement canceled several of the best performances on Wall Street in the previous week when some insiders were hoping things might be stabilizing. Letting us know that we are officially in a recession some 12 months after the fact is like announcing that Britney Spears is pregnant...for the first time! Oh, well, now that the cat's out of the bag, perhaps we won't be pussyfooting about what to call this economic downturn. Recession...that starts with an "r." Let's hope that we don't hear any other pronouncements from them about any words that start with a "d."

A heavy heart

The worst news that people had prayed would not occur was confirmed yesterday when Indian commandos finally took over the Nariman House, or Chabad House of Mumbai. When the body count was taken, six people were known to have been slaughtered including Rabbi Gavriel and Rebbetzin Rivkah Holtzberg. One American woman, Leibish Titlebaum from Brooklyn, and Bentzion Chroman, who like Rabbi Holtzberg carried dual American and Israeli citizenship, were among the dead. Rebbetzin Holtzberg was an Israeli. The couple's two-year-old orphan is still reported as doing well, but reports circulated yesterday that when he was rescued, his diaper was soaked in blood. Even though I never met the Holtzbergs, it is with great sorrow that I report on this horrible tragedy. The work that Chabad Centers across the globe do has always been done with the best of intentions, though I admit many traditional Orthodox Jews do find some aspects of their outreach to other Jews as unsettling. Nevertheless, very few considered that Chabad emissaries would be putting their lives at risk just by keeping their doors open to Jews and others in outreach communities. The deaths of the victims in Mumbai were confirmed by Chabad Rabbi Mendel Rivkin on the Ten Commandments Hike yesterday when he spoke at Congregation Anshe S'fard in late morning. It was especially significant that so many Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, adult leaders, parents, siblings and friends could gather and learn of the deaths of Jewish religious leaders and make a connection with them, if only for that one instant in time. Rain did not dampen the spirits of those in attendance even though the kosher lunch was punctuated by periods of heavy downpour. When, at least, the clouds parted and the sun came out, only two stops remained for the younger crowd and three total for the rest of the hikers. The hike ended before 5:00 p.m. and all felt they had participated in a special interfaith event that supported worship in each other's own faith.

Mumbai Massacre

The horrible news came out of Mumbai fast and furious, but it wasn't until late Thanksgiving night that I learned that the Nariman House of which reporters had been referring throughout the day, was indeed the Chabad House there. Rabbi Gavriel Holtzberg and his wife Rivkah maintained the center and were entertaining a number of foreigners, several of whom were reportedly Israeli citizens. A JTA report suggests that the Holtzbergs and at least six others had been taken hostage. The one piece of good news was that the couple's two-year-old son had been rescued. The fact that the center was targeted by the terrorists for retribution may be sobering to those within the worldwide Chabad organization in Brooklyn, not far from where the Holtzbergs grew up. The two were married back in 2003, shortly before leaving for India to start the house in Mumbai. Mrs. Hotzberg had been noted as an excellent hostess and the rabbi had made significant strides in reaching visitors as well as doing outreach to the small local Indian Jewish community in Mumbai. Anxious Chabad Lubavitchers have been e-mailing members of their local communities to urge prayers be said on behalf of all those still being held at the Nariman House. The one prayer suggested has been Psalm 20:
1. For the conductor, a song of David.
2. May the Lord answer you on a day of distress; may the name of the God of Jacob fortify you.
3. May He send your aid from His sanctuary, and may He support you from Zion.
4. May He remember all your meal offerings and may He accept your fat burnt offerings forever.
5. May He give you as your heart [desires], and may He fulfill all your counsel.
6. Let us sing praises for your salvation, and let us assemble in the name of our God; may the Lord fulfill all your requests.
7. Now I know that the Lord saved His anointed; He answered him from His holy heavens; with the mighty acts of salvation from His right hand.
8. These trust in chariots and these in horses, but we-we mention the name of the Lord our God.
9. They kneel and fall, but we rise and gain strength.
10. O Lord, save [us]; may the King answer us on the day we call.

Today is the day reserved for the fifth annual Ten Commandments Hike for the Southeast Louisiana Council of the Boy Scouts of America. I started this event in 2004 and after two events that year, we had planned another hike in the Lakeview area in 2005. Obviously, Hurricane Katrina's impact on New Orleans and in particular on Lakeview meant waiting until 2006. While still living in Cleveland, I managed to hop a flight and lead the hike in 2006 and again last year after I had moved back to the city of my birth. Today's hike will have over 250 Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, adult leaders, parents, siblings and friends moving along the historic St. Charles Avenue route to ten different houses of worship reinforcing the 12th Point of the Scout Law ("A Scout is Reverent."). It should be fun and meaningful, two things that Scouters love do do in concert with one another.

Thank you, Squanto

Ah, yes. The day that all America gives thanks to the Lord (or for the atheists and agnostics gathering at their tables to thank themselves) for the many blessings we enjoy. The end of this year has been pretty tough on all of us but, despite the economic downturn, we still have much to be thankful for and a lot to look forward to in the future. As to the past, the one person that should be thanked above all, though, is Squanto. Squanto? You mean you don't recall the story of the Native American member of the Wampanoag tribe, who saved the original Pilgrims from what would have been their first and last winter had he not been, more or less, where they landed. The incredible story of Squanto is filled with good fortune, bad luck and redemption. Credit English explorer John Weymouth with getting Squanto to England, having him learn English and learn about "civilization." Squanto, captured by the Spanish some years later, had his freedom secured by the very same John Weymouth. He returned to his homeland with another captured Native American --Samoset -- only a few months prior to the Mayflower's arrival at Plymouth Rock. Because he knew of English society and spoke English, Squanto was an essential liaison to the native tribe there. It was Squanto who taught the Pilgrims how and what to farm, provided them pelts of beaver to keep warm, and gave them deer meat for sustenance. Squanto showed the Pilgrims, already decimated by disease and bitter weather, how to build round-roofed wigwams made of poles and flat sheets of wood. It was Captain Miles Standish who invited Squanto and Samoset along with their chief, Massasoit, to a feast that became known as the precursor to the first real Thanksgiving meal. There is so much I could tell you, but if you're interested in learning more, read this link.

Not just another crime statistic

There has always been crime in New Orleans. The term "Big Easy" was supposedly coined by criminals to describe how sweet the environment was for them to ply their trade. Much of the pre-Katrina crime had been linked to drug activity, although statistically many of the crimes reported by police were perpetrated as black on black crime. Occasionally, when white citizens were robbed or shot by black criminals, the news media invariably bordered on the verge of being inflammatory in the coverage of these opprobrious acts. We have always tolerated crime in a way that very few outsiders understand. It may be that it goes back to when Louisiana was first settled by those hapless criminals whose jails were emptied and those French women who had worked in the brothels. Many of them were exiled here to live a hard life beyond the protection of French society. Years later, buccaneers like Jean Lafitte operated in the open in nearby Barataria, unchecked by any police force. Lafitte, as many of you will recall, was so powerful that General Andrew Jackson enlisted him and his men in order to protect the city at the Battle of New Orleans. Years after the Civil War, the Louisiana Lottery proved to be as corrupt as any endeavor ever imagined by petty crooks, only on a grander scale. Perhaps, because of our history, successful criminals have garnered undeserved admiration for their plots and scheming. Following the exodus from Hurricane Katrina, when the city was emptied of all but non-essential personnel, there was virtually no crime. For weeks there wasn't even one person killed in a city known in the past as the Murder Capital of the U.S. As residents returned, however, the crime statistics began to inch up. Today I can tell you that the crime wave in New Orleans has now become more personal. My son called me to tell me that he had been held up at knifepoint on Friday evening at dusk. His wallet and cell phone had been demanded and he gave them up without incident. When the police responded, he gave them a detailed description of the offender -- a white male in his 40s wearing a Dallas Cowboys jersey -- and assumed that it was the last time he would see his cell phone or his wallet again. Surprisingly, he got a call from the police Sunday. Apparently, the same perpetrator had attempted to try the same thing on Saturday night. This time his would-be victim got the upper hand and through sheer force or knowledge of martial arts stripped him of his weapon and proceeded to inflict serious harm to his body. When police were summoned to the scene, my son's description (he was still wearing the Dallas Cowboys jersey) came up. Not only did they have his weapon, but also a plastic bag found on his person contained my son's wallet (sans cash of course) and cell phone. The officers returned my son's wallet and cell phone and had him sign papers preferring charges against the perpetrator for aggravated assault. I have urged my son to take whatever measures are necessary to see that this lowlife is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. He is lucky and I am relieved (even though he didn't tell me about the incident until after the police had returned his possessions). As if to reinforce what I already knew, a new report by Congressional Quarterly says New Orleans is America's most crime-ridden city. Believe me, brother, I know. I know.

The Kennedy Assassination Mystique

Two score and five years ago, our country went through the worst kind of gut wrenching and soul searching that could be thrust upon any nation. I was just nine years old, but it was easy to comprehend the gravity of the mood of the people on that horrible weekend. Our president was dead and the person who police said did it was from New Orleans. Oh my goodness. I recall the time in my family was somewhat uneasy. My parents had enrolled me in public school for the first time earlier that summer. Coming from a military academy, Rugby Academy, I was finding the experience a bit trying for me, but I was showing good academic prowess in an environment which no longer emphasized uniforms or marching (yeah!). Then, on that fateful day I recall my teacher being very solemn after lunch. It was then that our principal announced over the loudspeaker that President Kennedy was dead and that we were all dismissed from class for the remainder of the day. Immediately I was concerned about how I was going to be going home with my sister, because my housekeeper Victoria was supposed to pick us up and walk us home at 3:00 o'clock. That was at least an hour and a half away. Unlike today, when time seems to breeze by, an hour and a half back them seemed like an interminable period of time. I seem to recall that we did meet up with Victoria, but I can't say for sure at what time. The next few days were a blur of historical figures and events. A Time-Life book I had in my library, "Four Days" documented it all. Unfortunately, like most of my library, it was lost in the flooding that followed Hurricane Katrina. I do vividly recall watching the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald over a live CBS feed on Sunday, November 24. The black and white imagery of the RCA television set is engrained upon my mind. Jack Ruby's attack on Oswald seemed to happen in slow motion, even though it was over with in less than three seconds. How ironic that Oswald died at the very same hospital as Kennedy within one or two rooms of one another. While the conspiratorial theorists may never be satisified, the evidence of Oswald's role as a lone assassin seems to bear more and more validity as the years drag on. Whether it will be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt also seems unlikely. Former New Orleans D.A. Jim Garrison was sure he had the evidence to link Oswald to others who had better motives, but as we know, he was never able to prove his suspicions in a court of law. Whether we think that it was Castro, the Cosa Nostra, or agents of the military industrial complex, the fact is nobody can ever state categorically they know the answer to this question. The main thing for all of us Americans to remember is that it should never happen again. It almost did in 1981 with Ronald Reagan. Thanks to Providence and a staff of "Republican" doctors, as Reagan joked in the ER, his life was spared, but it could just as easily have been a tragedy had the bullet trajectory moved just a little to either side. Two times before that it was Gerald Ford who surivived two different attacks within weeks of one another in September of 1975; the first by Manson desciple Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme and 17 days later the second by Sara Jane Moore, who I am reluctant to admit was born Sara Jane Kahn, a Jewish housewife married five times with four children. In case you didn't hear, she was paroled last December, a year and a few days after Gerald Ford passed away from natural causes. Another Jew, Samuel Byck, also attempted to kill a sitting president in 1974, I am sorry to report. The half-hearted attempt involved hijacking a bus and crashing it into the White House in an effort to kill Richard Milhous Nixon, the 37th President of the United States. While I was never a fan of Nixon's politics, I would never condone such a lame-brained scheme (as were all of these latter-day attempts). Yet, the one defining moment for me, when the country lost its innocence was when J.F.K. died. The later assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy also had pronounced effects on me, but they were defined best as auxillary to the assassination of our youngest elected president. There was a numbness that overcame the nation on November 22, 1963 and I am not certain it has ever fully lifted, now 45 years later.

Justice the Judge Judy way

Some afternoons while I am repairing computers, scanning files or doing something else that requires infinite patience, I have been flipping on the TV to pass the time. Usually, there's not much on to see other than Maury Povich exclaiming "You ARE the father!" or "You ARE NOT the father!" It would seem, though, that I am becoming more enamored with the short shrift Judge Judy Sheindlin has been giving plaintiffs and defendants in her TV courtroom. "Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining," was one of her favorite taunts that I recall several years back. Some of her other more snappy rejoinders have been "Want to know how you can tell when teenagers are lying?" followed by "Their lips are moving!" She is the epitome of the know-it-all Jewish mother, who knows what's right and won't stand for any foolishness on the part of witnesses or litigants in her court. Although I wouldn't want to settle any of my legal battles in front of her bench, I find it incredible to think that there are hundreds of others who think that they will get a measure of justice on a TV program, especially with someone who is so opinionated and intolerant. But that's what endears her to me, I guess, and makes for fun TV entertainment. Catching witnesses in lies is one of her best talents and I offer a word of caution to anyone who thinks they can pull one over on her. The operative catchphrase would be: forget it! She's way too crafty and, as she will remind those who enter her court, way too smart to let that happen. Sometimes, I must admit, I find her lack of tolerance a bit unnerving, especially given that a judge is supposed to be neutral before rendering a decision. It would seem that in most cases she has predetermined what her judgment will be. The dance that is seen in her court seems to be for her pleasure as litigants each try to get a word in edgewise, usually not quite as effectively as they would have expected prior to their appearance. I like her nasty demeanor in some ways, but I am repulsed by it in others. Oh, well, I guess it does pass the time and, after all, that's the only reason I am really watching it. Oh, yeah, I'm also looking for some snappy retorts like "Uh...is not an answer!"