dorelvis's Open Salon Blog

My first, my last, my everything

Sat, 1 Aug 2009 12:08:36 -0400

Just following the meme...Many folks here don't know me well, since I haven't been regularly posting.

1. Who was your FIRST prom date?
I went to my jr. high prom with Woody T.

2. Who was your FIRST love and do you still talk with him/her?
My mom says I was in love with Jonathan Koomey when I was four, and our families became close friends. (I only remember that he was really friends with my baby brother.) Recently I saw Jon speakat Google, and I stayed afterwards and he immediately knew who I was and we both got a bit farklempt.

3. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink?
I had a whiskey sour at my older brother's Bar Mitzvah. I thought this would make me an immediate alcoholic, but instead it was an ode to the merits of drinking.

4. What was your FIRST job?
Has to be babysitting (for a dollar an hour.) First real job with paycheck etc was at the Huntington Public Library as a page. or four years until college.

5. What was your FIRST car?
The car I drive now - a 2003 Honda civic. I lived in NYC for all of my adult life and had no need for a car until I moved west.

6. Who was the FIRST person to text you today?
Mr. Tweet sent me some recommendations about who to follow on twitter.

7. Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning?
My neighbor who said hello when I opened the door to grab my paper.

8. Who was your FIRST grade teacher?
Mrs. Wendrovsky. I loved her. When she saw I was reading way ahead of everyone she sent me to library and let the librarian select books for older kids.

9. When and where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane?
I flew from NY to Florida when I was a very little girl - and have no memory of it.

10. Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk?
Marcy Turn and no contact since before high school. I'd love to know how she is.

11. Where was your FIRST sleepover?
Am thinking it was at Amy Schlesinger's house. Or with Amy at mine.

12. Who was the FIRST person you talked to today?
Neighbor. Other than that - no-one yet.

13. Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time?
Karen and Dave's. Good good friends from camp. I wonder where they are now.

14. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?
Read open salon after making coffee. I am addicted.

15. What was the FIRST concert you ever went to?
Beach Boys. Dennis told us to stop screaming for him. We drank vodka - hidden in a 7up bottle - and I met a boy wearing a towel as a turban. I was 12. I told my mom I was sleeping over Amy's house.

16. FIRST tattoo?
Tats? Me? I'll never tell.

17. FIRST piercing?
Ears. Mom and I did it together when I was 12. She made me go first I might add.

18. FIRST foreign country you've been to?
Does Bermuda count? Went on a school trip when I was 16. If not, then Italy.

19. FIRST movie you remember seeing in the theater?
Dr. Doolittle. We loved it and sang all the songs. My dad kept yelling at us to shut up. Course I had my first official date at the movies too - we saw the Sting, and when he put his arm around my shoulder I asked him what he was doing. 12 again. Sounds like a year for firsts.

20. FIRST Detention you had?
Sent to principal's office in first grade for swearing. I didnt' realize shit was not something you said when you made a mistake or hurt yourself. Thats what we did in my house. Actual detention? Never. I never got caught.

21. What was the FIRST state you lived in?
New York. I've only lived in NY, RI (during college - didn't vote there) and CA.

22. If you had three wishes, what would the FIRST one be?
To see my father and grandmother again.

23. What is the FIRST thing you would learn if you had the chance?
To play the piano. I've always wanted to, and have been thinking about lessons.

Thats it for me. Thanks for letting me play.

If I had a day that I could give you, I’d give to you a day

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 19:06:17 -0400

The whole family: Dad, Mom, Ricky, Me, Chip.

Monday is the anniversary of my Bat Mitzvah. It doesn’t seem possible that it was so long ago - I mean I can still hear the band playing, still feel my voice tremble as I started to sing that first prayer, and still feel the surprise of Chad something’s braces as he kissed me during spin the bottle.

I wasn’t even thirteen yet. My birthday is in August, but our temple scheduled ceremonies only during the school year. My date was at the end of a long year of Bar and Bat Mitzvah’s, and I must have gone to one almost every weekend. I was really close to the kids from temple. We all went to different schools, and some of us went to schools where there weren’t all that many Jews.

Small side story: In first grade, after I said, “Jesus!” all annoyed for some reason just like my mom did, Marcy T told me Jesus was the Son of God, and that I shouldn’t take his name in vain. I had no idea who this Jesus guy was, and told her we hadn’t learned that yet.

A few years later I was hanging out with my temple crew a lot. We had to go to Hebrew school one afternoon a week, Sunday school on Sunday, and Friday night services. Friday nights was a social event - we all sat together at the back and the cantor was always giving us the shut up look. Seventh grade and we were learning how to flirt.

I started noticing David L sometime that spring. I remember he was sitting in the row in front of me and he turned around and smiled. I guess his Bar Mitzvah was soon, because his mom called my mom and all of a sudden I was going. The party was at the Town House, and I shocked my friends by dancing alone with with him - touch dancing, not that we knew how to or anything. We spent many hours talking on the phone (in the kitchen for me) about nothing. He couldn't go to mine - sleepawaycamp. His mom told my mom he cried.

I invited boys to my party, and was unbelievably the first among the crew to do so. After they got my invite a whole bunch reciprocated, and after that most kids did the same. Which meant that I had a party every weekend. Which also meant I needed something to wear.

All the kids at the reception. Look at our fashions!

So my mom and I went to Bloomingdales. We’d tried a bunch of other stores at the mall, but we were having trouble agreeing. 1974 was miniskirt heaven, but I was a pants girl, and had discovered jeans and cords. (You had to buy boys sizes, and have them tailored to fit.) Getting dressed up wasn’t my thing. My mom always wanted me to wear girly flowered stuff, and I never did. We eventually got a few minidresses, granny-style, that tied in the back, but hadn’t been able to find something to for my event. At Bloomies though, we found the dress. Long, with an empire waste, it had a blue bodice and pink flowers on the white skirt. We both loved it.

How happy do I look?

I’ve been talking about this ceremony that basically is a young Jew’s entrance into the adult community as if its one big party and not about religion. For me, it was a rite that everyone did, and it had little to do with believing. Because you see I did not believe then and I don’t now.

At 12, I was unable to hide my doubts, and during the preparation with the rabbi and cantor I was not shy about discussing it with them. Oh I liked being part of the tribe, and I understand that rules like “Thou shall not kill” make moral sense. I like my whitefish and chopped liver. But an unseen force that made the world in six days? I could not wrap my head around it. The cantor especially would encourage me to talk about my feelings; he said that questioning God is part of being Jewish, and that by the way Hitler would have gassed me whether I believed or not. I couldn’t argue with that - we’d been shown the films of the concentration camps for as long as I could remember. He told me to have faith and be a good person, and that God would want me to do what I thought was right.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my Bat Mitzvah because I just went to my best friend’s daughter Casey’s, and the compare/contrast is striking. We had the ceremony at the temple Saturday morning, then went directly to the club for the reception. (My Uncle Eddie - I only called him Ed) drove me in his convertible. Without my parents or brothers. I felt so grown up.

Casey’s ceremony was also in the morning, and they had a little nosh at the temple right afterwards. The reception was in the evening, at a posh hotel.

I had to share my ceremony with Jennifer W. She was a nice girl, but to tell the truth she annoyed me. Her mom was always trying to get me to be Jennifer’s friend, but I got the feeling that Jennifer could have lived without me too. She also wasn’t really bright. She couldn’t sing her Torah portion and could barely speak any Hebrew. (I could read Hebrew really well, just don’t ask me what it meant.)

So the cantor asked me to not sing my prayers or Haftorah. because he didn’t want me to make Jennifer look bad. Because it didn’t matter how well I did, I was only a girl. (During practice I did exactly as he asked; at the ceremony I sang everything. Surprise! Not the sweet thing they expected.)

During Casey’s ceremony her parents placed her grandfather’s prayer shawl over her shoulders, and she wore it the whole time. Because, as her cantor said, there is no difference in their community between a boy or girl. The Rabbi spoke directly to her and she held the Torah, walking around the temple. (I was only allowed to look at the Torah.)

My parents together, smiling, happy. (Divorce was six years away.)

We had about 75 people at the reception, mostly relatives and lots of my friends. I know I had fun, but the photographer annoyed me by taking so many photos. The bartenders were instructed not to serve the children drinks (drinking age was 18 at the time) but some cousins got me a whiskey sour. I was buzzed.

Casey’s party had a special area reserved for the children, and some food especially for them. Extravagant barely describes the event. They had a cocktail hour with a wet bar, top shelf liquor and passed hors d'oeuvres. The kids had all sorts of games, and virgin frozen drinks. Minimum 200 people.

They did a candle lighting ceremony at the party, where Casey called special friends and relatives to light a birthday candle with her. She asked me to be one of them. (Big aww.) Casey wrote personal poems for each person/family and read them as we lit the candle together. It was lovely.

At the end of my party my Gram told me she was proud that I was growing into such a lovely girl. And by the way don’t let a boy touch me ever. And watch my nasty mouth.

My grandmother (in front) and my Aunt Clara. (Gram's sister-in-law.)

At the end of Casey’s party I told her she was a special person who could do anything she wanted, and that I was her friend as well as her moms. I told he she could call/text me any time and that what we spoke about was between us. And she hugged me. (Then her mom hugged me and told me she will kill me if I don’t tell her everything Casey tells me.)

At twelve I hadn’t learned that smart girls aren’t popular. At twelve I was the best artist, the best dancer, the one who knew all about music. At twelve, boys followed me around and girls asked me how to make boys follow them. Soon, all that would change. I hope it doesn't for Casey.

Infinite Summer

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 18:06:25 -0400

Some friends have dared me to participate in the infinite summer readathon, and I’ve just downloaded the book to my kindle. Check out the site - lots of interesting facts and advice on how to get through this amazing work.

The challenge

Join endurance bibliophiles from around the world in reading Infinite Jest over the summer of 2009, June 21st to September 22nd. A thousand pages¹ ÷ 92 days = 75 pages a week. No sweat.

1. Plus endnotes^a.
a. A lot of them.

Looking at the calendar I’ve got to get to page 63 by friday - already I am behind!

Feed them on your dreams

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 19:06:43 -0400

I posted about my dad last year for Father’s Day, “Daddy don't you walk so fast” and its still one of my best and most personal posts.

But today I spent the morning with some friends, new parents, and as I wished Ben a happy father’s day I started thinking about my dad again.

A while back I found our memory books, mine from sixth grade, his from eighth(? - don’t know for sure.) Mostly filled with silly poems from our friends, they also capture a lot about ourselves (like our horrible handwriting) and our family.

I’m a little surprised at Dad’s favorites. I didn’t know he liked to spell. His hero is Achilles or Thor? No wonder he laughed hysterically when one of my neighbors was named Thor. He didn’t make it Columbia, and I never knew he wanted to.

My favorites seem almost like another person. I know the book “Me and My Little Brain” is about the younger brother of a genius - not surprising I liked it. Sixth grade was one of those good years when my brother Chip wasn’t in the same school as me, so I wasn't always compared to him. I did go to RISD, and I still have billions of favorite songs.

His mother Dora was one of the first to sign his book, and its sounds very formal: Mother. Also I note she calls him a good boy - he had a hard time always being so good for her.

My mom is far more effusive and expressive. She still writes me notes like this.

My grandfather, who I died long before I was born and a year or so before my parents married is also very formal, signing his full name. My dad loved him very much, and I’ve always felt sad I never knew him.

To me, my dad is sweet - and says he’s proud. I was so daddy’s girl back then.

The rest of both books are really silly. Lots of Roses are Red poems. I like this one though - obviously in NY (with the local and express) and the Hitler singing God Bless America message. 1943 was smack in the middle of the war - and plenty of kids must have had brothers or even fathers fighting.

Course there was plenty of silliness in my book too. When you peel back the fold under “To a dirty Kid,” there’s a drawing of soap.

Ok, enough sentiment for one afternoon. Back to my regularly scheduled cynicism.

There's nowhere else on earth that I would rather be

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 12:06:33 -0400

Wanna see my new site? I've been hard at work updating my personal portfolio site. Since everyone here at Open Salon loves my avatar, I figured I'd put it front and center - creating a connection between the two blogs. Open is for fun - D O R E L V I S is for work. They are both about stories.

But it was harder to do than I initially anticipated. First I had to design it, I also had to figure out how much of the old site I would keep. Then came the hard part - building it. I can code, but its not my favorite thing. After it was done came the hardest part yet - turns out my webhost was slow slow slow - not really configured for wordpress. Arg. I had to switch hosts too.

The great thing about this site is that I was able to use wordpress to create portfolio pages - so I don't really have to code anymore when I want to show new or different things. Its a home-grown cms (content management solution) for sure - but it works fairly well.

I literally copied over a bunch of my old pages though, so I really need to go through things and edit/rewrite etc. I'm also not happy with all of the css and text styles, so I will have to go in and update that too.

My old site was just that - old. I'm fairly sure I made it almost ten years ago, and it looked it. As a designer, I needed something more modern to reflect where I am now - so I'm happy.