Jasmine and roses

At the inaugural Canada California Business Council's classy speednetworking event held in conjunction with Canadians Abroad (www.canadiansabroad.com) last night at the Westin/Bonaventure Hotel in L.A., the energy was high and enthusiastic as lawyers, accountants, real estate specialists, IT specialists, and people from assorted disciplines and age ranges met financial and banking experts and others in the business community. Everybody was trying to make it work, which made it a lot of fun, and most people left feeling newly inspired. Thankfully the number designation (0)I was given (and sported on the name tag on my chest) allowed me to sit on a comfy sofa where I handed out promotional bookmarks on cryokid (www.cryokid.com) to all the number 1s and 2s who visited me for three minutes apiece. It was generally a most enjoyable interchange, but I was surprised when a baby boomer law professor (a number 1) from USC challenged my recollection of the 1950s -- surprising because I had lived through and she had not, so whe was questioning my own experience (maybe she was just used to being lawyerly). According to her, the advent of the birth control pill didn't change anything in the realm of sexual mores because lots of women, she claimed, had pre-marital sex in the 1950s and could easily get abortions. I think should stick to law, because this was certainly not the 1950s I experienced in Quebec, where the Catholic Women's League routinely blacked out the breasts of "sweater girls" on billboards with black paint, and it was criminal for a doctor to perform an abortion. In desperation, some women tried to do it themselves with primitive implements like knitting needles. Even getting a divorce in Canada was difficult. It had to be based on the grounds of adultery and be approved by the Senate, a lengthly procedure.

"Are you for or against assisted artificial reproduction?" the law prof demanded?
"Read my book," I replied. "It's not for or against anything. It's simply describing what I call the "transformational family." New kinds of social units have formed, and one of the questions "Cryo Kid" raises is this: How do we transfer the values our society cherishes to these new kinds of families? And how do we make their members feel loved and valued, every one?

I think one of the problems that our social system has to overcome is that, on all kinds of issues, we tend to divide ourselves into "for" or "against" camps instead of trying to find common ground. I am certainly not a proponent of moral relativism, but neither do I see the world in black and white hues. Nature is full of beautiful colors. That's why I like to take time to look at my garden and smell the jasmine along with the roses.

Two halves of a whole

I was misty-eyed at President Barack Obama's courageous attempt to create an atmosphere where peace can begin, to get the Muslim world at large to understand that we can have different views -- both commonalities and difference -- and still get along. It seems so simple yet it appears to be so difficult to put into practice.

While I appreciated his understanding of the centuries of persecution suffered by the Jewish people and his tribute to those who died in unspeakable circumstances at Buchenwald as a result of the Holocaust, I feel that there is a deeper Jewish relationship to the Holy Land that is not generally understood. It is a mystical connection that goes beyond politics and has been so beautifully expressed by the esteemed Rav (Rabbi)Kook (Eretz Cheifetz 1):

"The land of Israel is not some external entity.
It is not merely an external acquisition for the Jewish people.
It is not merely a means of uniting the populace.
It is not merely a means of strenghtening our physical existence.
It is not even merely a means of strenghtening our spiritual existence.

Rather, the land of Israel has an intrinsic meaning.
It is connected to the Jewish people with the knot of life.
Its very being is suffused with extraordinary qualities.

The extraordinary qualities of the land of Israel and the extraordinary qualities of the Jewish people are two halves of a whole."

The mother of invention

The very, very tall fellow at my physical therapy session definitely thinks head and shoulders above the crowd. He has such an inventive mind that he thought of yet another use for Guantanamo Bay (after it is emptied of prisoners). In order to help GM emerge from bankruptcy, we the taxpayers who now own a goodly chunk of the company should turn Guantanamo Bay into a giant (global) car dealership for used Pontiacs.

My own 2002 Pontiac is in excellent shape except for an occasional Los Angeles ding. It's fully loaded and has only 90,000 kilometers on its odometer(roughly equivalent to 60,000 miles). It was driven by a little old lady on the well populated 405 and 101 freeways without incident. Any pre-Guantanamo dealership takers?

Oh, what fun!

I had an unexpected call from a stand-up comic today who would like some writing help in editing and honing his material. If we go ahead with it, this would be a first for me, and, as such, offers a creative challenge that I would enjoy, provided we find a comfortable mode of working together (and he can pay my fees). So as I moved about my daily doings, including physical therapy, everything I encountered seemed to suggest humorous possibilities, some of them a little far out. When the guy exercising on the pilates machine -- he was six feet seven inches tall, but prefers to tell people he stands five feet 19 inches tall (see what I mean?)-- gave it up to me, he quipped that they should send the machine to Guantanamo Bay. Perfect for torture, he said with a straight face, and a good position for waterboarding. Maybe this isn't funny. I won't suggest it to the stand-up comic. Anyway he's supposed to come up with the jokes. I'm just supposed to improve his material.

What's also funny is that the therapist said that my muscles are in great condition. Hah! Who knew? And it's also funny that everytime I think about retiring, something I might like to do comes up.

One little, two little, three little ...

Guess what? Are you sitting down? With all the excitement about my recent accolades, I forgot to mention the most important news of all. My book, "Cryo Kid -- Drawing a New Map" (www.cryokid.com) is written in part about the discovery of eight half-siblings (scattered across the U.S.) for my grandchild, who was conceived with the help of an anonymous sperm donor. Now it turns out that there are two more, a boy about the same age as my granddaughter, Samantha, and the second, a little girl, who is somewhat younger. They were born to a lesbian couple, with each mother giving birth to one of the children. My daughter, a single mom, has been in contact with the mothers, who only recently registered on the donor sibling registry (www.donorsiblingregistry.com) and have expressed interest in meeting us later this year. They live in San Francisco, which is much closer to L.A., where we live, than any of the other siblings. At present, my daughter, grandchild, and I feel complete with our own closeknit extended family that includes cousins close to Samantha's age, but I think that when Samee is a teenager concerned with identity issues, she will be glad to have a group of half-siblings -- some of whom she has already met -- who share another parent with her. As her mother's only child, to have ten of them is very special indeed.

A welcome pat on the back

Despite my continued lack of diabetic test strips, this week is turning out well. A few days ago, I was tickled pink to discover that "Cryo Kid -- Drawing a New Map" has been awarded finalist status in the Indie Next Generation 2009 Book Awards. Then today I unexpectedly received a beautiful Award of Merit for my "loyalty and commitment" in teaching a playreading class to a large group of seniors for the last five years. I call the sessions "Playtime." It was one of those happy moments that bring tears to your eyes.

Still no test strips!

Six weeks plus and counting and my diabetic test strips (prescribed and "pre-authorized" multiple times by my doctor) have still not been delivered by Prescription Solutions, the mail-order arm of PacifiCare. To read all about it, check out my daughter Janet Spiegel's blog at www.genplususa.com. I am rendered speechless (as well as faceless) by unbelievably stupid healthcare bureaucracy.