Thursday, July 28, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Boycott Amazon
Time was that I loved a good boycott. But nowadays it's hard to find a corporation that doesn't do something that goes against my values; to punish every company for its various and sundry trangressions and violations would require me and my family to literally live off the land. And we all know the apocalypse that would bring about.
But Amazon is another story. With its refusal to collect sales tax from consumers, this company has managed to inflame state governments (who lose out on millions of dollars in state revenue) and businesses of all sizes (who often can't compete due to the location of their brick and mortar locations.) Sounds like an organization worthy of a boycott from both sides of the political aisle. And so I hereby affirm that I will not make any purchases through Amazon until it changes its evil ways.
Here's a recent article for some background, written by my new favorite blogger, Kevin Drum:
http://motherjones.com/kevin-drum/2011/07/amazons-scorched-earth-fight-against-everyone
But Amazon is another story. With its refusal to collect sales tax from consumers, this company has managed to inflame state governments (who lose out on millions of dollars in state revenue) and businesses of all sizes (who often can't compete due to the location of their brick and mortar locations.) Sounds like an organization worthy of a boycott from both sides of the political aisle. And so I hereby affirm that I will not make any purchases through Amazon until it changes its evil ways.
Here's a recent article for some background, written by my new favorite blogger, Kevin Drum:
http://motherjones.com/kevin-drum/2011/07/amazons-scorched-earth-fight-against-everyone
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Everything in Moderation
Before they started school, the boys went to a fabulous pre-school in Iowa. One of their favorite friends there was a little girl named Maia. Maia lived near us and her family was part of our synagogue, so the boys saw her often. She was very big and very, very strong. She liked to play hard and yell loud, and the boys adored her.
Around the time the boys were four, I read a book called The Blessing of a Skinned Knee. It’s an outstanding book about raising resilient children without hyperventilating over their (or my) every possible misstep and mistake. The author explained the Jewish philosophy of balancing celebration, moderation and sanctification to help parents recognize the need to back-off from their kids: to allow unstructured time; to expect them to be rebellious; to refrain from rewarding every small deed; to allow them to fail, to compete, to complain. At a time when I was swimming in self-doubt about my parenting ability, this book was more than a breath of fresh air; it was my liberation.
The fact that the author used a Jewish philosophy was all the ammunition I needed to draw my children in. It wasn’t that teaching them Jewish laws mattered to me so much, but rather it gave me an easy explanation for the behaviors I wanted to guide the boys toward. For example, when the boys asked why we say blessings over bread and wine on Friday nights, I explained that “as Jews, we take ordinary food and make it special one night each week.” When they asked why we sang songs under the stars on Saturday evening, I explained that it was a Jewish way to celebrate nature. And when they complained about not being able to indulge themselves with junk food, I explained that it was because “Jews do everything in moderation.”
I was amazed at how well the moderation argument worked, especially for Noah. Practicing moderation in and of itself would not have been an easy sell for him. But being Jewish has always mattered a lot to Noah, and to say that this was “how Jews do it” was enough to satisfy his 4-year-old sensibilities.
I went to pick up the boys from pre-school one day and as I walked down the hallway to the classroom, I could hear Noah screaming at the top of his lungs. I entered the room and saw him and several other children flinging toys and stuffed animals off the top level of the loft in the corner of the room.
I called over to Noah, telling him to stop screaming and throwing things. He of course took no heed, and so I walked over to the loft and told him that it was time to stop. He looked around, noticing that all the other kids in the room were still screaming and having the times of their lives and asked me why he had to stop. I told him that we are Jewish, and Jews do everything in moderation.
He looked over my shoulder. I turned my head to see Maia scaling a post in the center of the room. She managed to shimmy herself all the way to the top so that her head was nearly touching the ceiling. She held on to the post with one arm and waved the other in the air, screaming to the other kids to give her some toys so she could throw them from her perch.
“Mom,” he asked, “do all Jews have to practice moderation?” I told him yes. He looked over to the post and to the girl who had scaled it, and with a look of deep concern said to me “Someone should tell Maia.”
Around the time the boys were four, I read a book called The Blessing of a Skinned Knee. It’s an outstanding book about raising resilient children without hyperventilating over their (or my) every possible misstep and mistake. The author explained the Jewish philosophy of balancing celebration, moderation and sanctification to help parents recognize the need to back-off from their kids: to allow unstructured time; to expect them to be rebellious; to refrain from rewarding every small deed; to allow them to fail, to compete, to complain. At a time when I was swimming in self-doubt about my parenting ability, this book was more than a breath of fresh air; it was my liberation.
The fact that the author used a Jewish philosophy was all the ammunition I needed to draw my children in. It wasn’t that teaching them Jewish laws mattered to me so much, but rather it gave me an easy explanation for the behaviors I wanted to guide the boys toward. For example, when the boys asked why we say blessings over bread and wine on Friday nights, I explained that “as Jews, we take ordinary food and make it special one night each week.” When they asked why we sang songs under the stars on Saturday evening, I explained that it was a Jewish way to celebrate nature. And when they complained about not being able to indulge themselves with junk food, I explained that it was because “Jews do everything in moderation.”
I was amazed at how well the moderation argument worked, especially for Noah. Practicing moderation in and of itself would not have been an easy sell for him. But being Jewish has always mattered a lot to Noah, and to say that this was “how Jews do it” was enough to satisfy his 4-year-old sensibilities.
I went to pick up the boys from pre-school one day and as I walked down the hallway to the classroom, I could hear Noah screaming at the top of his lungs. I entered the room and saw him and several other children flinging toys and stuffed animals off the top level of the loft in the corner of the room.
I called over to Noah, telling him to stop screaming and throwing things. He of course took no heed, and so I walked over to the loft and told him that it was time to stop. He looked around, noticing that all the other kids in the room were still screaming and having the times of their lives and asked me why he had to stop. I told him that we are Jewish, and Jews do everything in moderation.
He looked over my shoulder. I turned my head to see Maia scaling a post in the center of the room. She managed to shimmy herself all the way to the top so that her head was nearly touching the ceiling. She held on to the post with one arm and waved the other in the air, screaming to the other kids to give her some toys so she could throw them from her perch.
“Mom,” he asked, “do all Jews have to practice moderation?” I told him yes. He looked over to the post and to the girl who had scaled it, and with a look of deep concern said to me “Someone should tell Maia.”
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