In the book of Genesis there is a peculiar story.  God commands Abraham to go with his son Isaac to the mountain and make a sacrifice.  No big deal, people were making sacrifices – a goat, sheep or lamb – to God day in day out.  When Abraham and Isaac get there Abraham looks around for a ram, or any other appropriate beast.  Abraham reports the lack of such to God, who then tells Abraham that it is his son Isaac he has been sent to sacrifice.  Abraham obeys, binds Isaac, raises the knife and lo and behold! a ram shows up just in time.  They sacrifice the ram, Isacc is set loose and they go back home.  This verse was read from the pulpit of every synagogue in the world on September 10 and every Rosh Hashona.

Biblical scholars for centuries have had a tough time with this tale.  They seem to agree that God regarded this as a test to see how much Abraham feared God.  But it’s still peculiar.

Now the Genesis stories are not actual historic fact.  They were legends passed down from one generation to the next.  But somewhere some person had to have made this up.

So why can’t I make up another version of the story?  (There are Rabbis out there who will say such a proposal is heretic and blasphemous).

But here it is:

Starting with the part where Abraham and Isaac reach the mountain, this dialogue:

“God, I’m not seeing any sheep, lambs or goats on this mountaintop”

“Abraham, the sacrificial lamb is that boy relieving himself behind that tree”

“God, I don’t think I heard what you said”

“Abraham you will sacrifice your son, Isaac”

“God, I really can’t do that”

“Abraham, there is no option, you know you must obey me”

( A very, very long silence)

”  God, I refuse”

” Abraham you will suffer my wrath in the most horrible fashion, as will all your people if you disobey me’

“God, it is a terrible and immoral thing you ask of me”

Abraham throws his knife into the fire.  A terrible storm comes, Abraham and Isaac have no shelter and for two days brave the storm.

Then God speaks

“Abraham, this was a test of your courage and moral fiber.  If you can defy even me you have proven your integrity and strength. but Abraham, you must never tell any man or woman what happened here.  You and Isaac are commanded to tell that I directed you to sacrifice your son and that as you were about to do so a ram appeared.  No other man must dare to defy and contradict me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Herman Hupfeld was born in 1894 in Montclair, New Jersey.  In 1903 his parents sent him to Germany to learn the violin.  He returned in time for WWI, joined the army and scooted around entertaining the troops.  He returned home, never married, and lived in the family home in Montclair and died in 1951.

In the meantime, he wrote music for Broadway musicals.  If a producer needed  a song for a specific scene, and didn’t have Irving Berlin around, he’d call Herman. Until 1931 the most notable song from the pen of Herman Hupfeld was When Yuba. played the Rhumba on his Tuba.  In 1931 producer David Kelsey asked Herman to write a song for a play called Everyone Comes to Rick’s.  In 1942 Hal Wallis made a movie based on the play.

Herman Hupfeld led a humdrum life, but he could go to the cinema and hear Ingrid Bergman say to Dooley Wilson.  “Play it Sam, Play As Time Goes By”  and be comforted by the knowledge that he had written the words and music to one of the great songs.

It almost didn’t happen because of Ingrid Bergman’s haircut.

Max Steiner, who had written the music for Gone With the Wind” had been hired to write the music for Casablanca.   He wanted his own song instead of As Time Goes By.  But it was too late, Bergman had cut her hair short for her role as Maria in For Whom the Bell Tolls and they couldn’t reshoot the scene.

Sam, – Dooley Wilson – was a drummer, and couldn’t play the piano.  And as we all know Bergman never said “Play it again, Sam”

 

 

 

 

There is, in our apartment, a delightful woman named Stella Daniels  (Definitely, provably, absolutely no relation to Stormy).  She is 102, blessed with a sharp mind humming along on all cylinders, and a wit any of us would envy.

Three years ago I would see her walking about the city on her own,  not today  She has help – good help – but her body at this age is not fully cooperative.

Last week I saw her in the courtyard and walked over to say hello.  She said ” Good morning Norm, I can’t look up very well, but I recognized you by your feet”

Bless you, Stella Daniels

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On my walk, I love reading faces and consider it one of the joys of city living.  Many are about as interesting as pages in the phone book   (If you’re too young to know what that means, ask a parent or grandparent).   Others reveal characters that could have been created by Stephen King, Tom Clancey, or Danielle Steel.  Some are whoppingly fascinating.

Two problems with reading faces: First adjectives, I look at a face and a description will sizzle in my head – happy,  intense,  afraid.  But really faces and the personalities and characteristics inside are too complex for simple adjectives.  Second  – a face will remind me of someone I know, and immediately the person behind that face is just like my friend.  This passing woman, who compares herself to the Iron Lady, would be shocked to know I think she’s a wimp.

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I love the process of cooking and do most of it for the two of us.  Usually, I start with a recipe, then maybe improvise, which often leads to disaster.  I don’t consider myself as much of a cook but occasionally will stir up a munchable morsel.  When I do I’ll pass it on.   like now:

A few sea scallops (the big ones), pan-fried in butter, just above a simmer.  When brown cut each in approximately half.  Serve as an hors d”oeuvre, with a dipping sauce made from mayonnaise and a small dose of Thai Yellow Currey Sauce (Trader Joes, but heck, anywhere).  Toothpick advisory in effect.

 

I see him often as I walk up the San Francisco hills, up Powell from Market or up California from Montgomery.  He is always walking, carrying that blanket.  He could be 10 years younger than me, the same age (86) or ten years older.  His back is not straight.

Is he homeless?  I’ve never seen him in a doorway or lying on the street.  He just walks and walks.

Yesterday I was walking up Powell and he was walking down.  As we passed I said Hello, loudly and cheerily as I reasonably could.  I think he raised his head about ¼”, but it was probably my imagination.

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I met Dana and Gary Shapiro soon after we moved into our apartment.  After getting to know Gary a bit, I was impressed with his optimistic view of life.  To Gary the glass wasn’t just half full, it was close to the top.

Last summer the horrible Sonoma Fire demolished  Gary and Dana’s house.  I called Gary.  He said something like “Sure it’s bad, but we still have our health, each other and our lives….. and also the guest house, which the fire didn’t get”

A while back doctors found cancer in Gary’s stomach.  On Wednesday they took his stomach away in an operation that was supposed to take 2 hours but took 5.  So far I understand he’s doing well, considering everything.

I don’t know what effect no stomach will have on Gary’s lifestyle.  I do know that he will come out of it saying “Well, that’s not so great,  but I still have……………..”

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We relish TV shows about British detectives – Morse, Lewis, Endeavor, Vera – the whole bloody lot, and just found one on Amazon that’s 5 years old, but new to us, well done: The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher

 

Back in PD (pre-digital) times, I was on a run in New York through Central Park.  I paused watching a father and 2 kids looking at a statue, the dad saying ” Now if I had a camera I’d crouch down here and take a  picture of that from this angle.”  I thought, but didn’t say – You have a camera -your eyes, and your mind is the film.

My reaction – and perhaps yours – when I see an appealing object or scene is to shoot it, knowing that’s in my icloud for posterity.  If we’re traveling we can show all 327 photos to friends and family.  (Nan is certain they’re eager to see all 327 – I’m not so sure).  With our cell phones, the shots are well organized and easy to recover.  But what about stopping to soak in the impact of the object or scene,  not thinking about the right settings on the camera?  The impact is temporary but deep.

Yesterday walking up Powell Street, right next to the curb, a stuffed, somewhat the worse for wear, rabbit   –  OK it was a bunny. It’s button eyes looking up pathetically.  My automatic reaction, get out the iPhone and shoot the bunny.  I didn’t.  I started wondering how the bunny got there – I probably wouldn’t have done so if the photo was safely in my pocket.  Did a child say “I’ve grown up and don’t need this bunny any more”? Did a  frustrated parent say “enough with this rabbit obsession already”?  Or, more likely, as with me and Benjamin 24 years ago, did the bunny fall out of the cable care?

Yes I will take 2 cameras to Lisbon and Israel, but without shooting everything in sight

 

At a recent dinner with my brother Toby I talked about my bucket list.  He suggested I write a blog about it and other juicy subjects as they occur to me.

“Who would read that”, I asked, coyly batting my left eyelash

“I would,”  he said.

OK – I have an audience of one.  I’m writing a blog.

It’s called    B.L.O.G. – Bucket List – Optimistic Geezer

The rules:

1. No politics
2. Reading time 2 minutes max.
3. Not delivered your email, Twitter or Facebook.
4. If you want to read it go to normrosenblatt.com
5. Nostalgia, like garlic, used sparingly
6. On days when I have nothing to say, there’ll be a charming emoticon

9/13/18

My bucket list:

• Breakfast with Nan tomorrow morning at the little round table at the window looking out at  our courtyard, waving to  friends taking their dogs to the park
• Joyfully watching our 5 grown grandchildren building careers, and the two younger ones building bold personalities.
• Finish writing the song to the poem I’ve been working on “Some Kind of Crazy”

And certainly the journey we’re about to launch to Lisbon, Jerusalem, Tel Aviv and Haifa with our delightful friends Deepa and Thampy Thomas

Why yes, climbing Machu Picchu would be spectacular, a personal tour of Windsor Castle with Meaghan Markle (aka Duchess of Sussex) would be charming.  But my bucket list celebrates here and it reveres now.  And if I were to elaborate this blog would stretch way beyond my 2-minute limit.

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It’s rumored that Alexa and Siri are In a relationship

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Google now has a robot who provides suggested responses to your incoming emails.  This robot, however, totally lacks any sense of irony.

I suggest a few additions to the robot’s repertoire.

“Dude, Seriously?”

“I’d love to but Tuesday afternoon is when I take Frieda, my Chihuahua to her analyst”

“You still owe me $20 from t­he last time”

“ This is truly artificial intelligence”

“ Last time I took part in anything like this, I was in the 6^th grade”

“Has some potential, but it just doesn’t pair with broccoli”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have –  and I really mean you shouldn’t have”

Post your own non-robotic response and I’ll post it here – with or without attribution, up to you

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In about 1968 the Nob Hill Theater appeared as a men’s strip club on Bush between Powell and Mason.  Ever since we moved here I’ve been puzzled by the incongruity.   Well,  In early August there appeared an addition to the usual sign which read “TOUCH OUR JUNK”.  It announced the theater’s closing on August 19. Then the sign was changed as below.  It stretches the limits of one’s imagination to suppose what might have been included in the Memorabilia sale. I did not go.  Now the sign just reads, “TOUCH OUR JUNK’.  I assume any number of collectors of antiques and collectibles will knock.