Bus Ride Reading (Ignorance is bliss - The Hebrew Version)

ב 2009 כשהורי ביקרו אותנו כאן בוונקובר, יצא לי להבין בהפתעה קלה משהו, שהטריד את יוחנן בתור אבא לילדים שגדלו בבית דובר עברית. באחד מטיולי הבוקר הוא ציין את תחושת היתרון שיש לנו בהשוואה אליו, שגדל אצל הורים דוברי שפות זרות. בשיתוף הזה מצידו, היה משהו מעורר מחשבה. זו אמירה שמכילה רבדים של תחושות כמו תסכול, קנאה והערכה. לפעמים אנחנו עיוורים למכלול המציאות בה אנחנו חלק, עד שמי שאיתנו חולק מה שאצלו. את יכולת ההבעה והכתיבה אני ממילא מנסה לשפר ולזקק בלי קשר. אבל היכולת הזו מיועדת גם לקהל, שבלעדיו אין לה הרבה תכלית.

אולי פרט אירוני במחשבות העולות תוך כתיבת הדברים שכאן, הוא שאף פעם לא הבחנתי אצל אבא במגבלה ביכולת ההבעה. אבל השיחה שבה הוא הצליח להביע את ההכרה שלו באותה מגבלה, ממשיכה להעסיק אותי במפגשים עם אנשים אחרים. אלה שאני מעריך את יכולת ההבעה שלהם כטובה משלי, מהם אני מנסה ללמוד. אלה שיכולת ההבעה שלהם אולי פחותה, איתם אני מנסה להקפיד, מצד אחד על סבלנות ומצד שני על תמיכה. סבלנות בהקשבה ותמיכה במאמץ לנסות.

לקראת יום השלושים לפטירת יוחנן שטרן, הייתי עסוק בכתיבת החיבור בהמשך תוך נסיעה בתחבורה ציבורית. הקשר לפתיחה שלמעלה אולי לא מיידי אם כי טבעי עבורי במכלול החוויות העוברות עלי.

קריאה בתחבורה ציבורית (בורות היא אושר)

במה אנחנו מחפשים תעסוקה? אני קורא ספר בשם 'קריאת רשות' ('קריאה בלתי נחוצה' בתרגום לאנגלית) שאת שם המחברת אולי יום אחד אצליח לזכור ולהגות. השאלה שלמעלה מעסיקה אותי בזמן הקריאה ואחריה. אני תוהה מה מוצא חן בעיני בשורות אותן אני קורא ומה גורם לי להירתע.

בהמשך אני קורא פיסות מידע על ויסלבה שימבורסקה. הבירור הזריז הזה מחזיר אותי ל'קאמפר' הראשונות שקניתי.

ברחובות מילנו 1999, עברתי ליד חלון ראווה שבו הוצג זוג נעלים שגרם לי לעצור. כאילו מצאתי משהו שכל החיים חיפשתי. הן היו יפות באופן לא מובחן כמעט. היופי שלהן הכיל שלוה, נינוחות, ביטחון עצמי. אפשר היה לעבור לידן מבלי להרגיש בכלל. ובכל זאת הן כאילו חיכו לי. כשמדדתי, הנוחות שלהן הפתיעה רק על רקע נסיון העבר, בו מה שנראה נוח מסתבר בדרך כלל כפחות אם בכלל.

הכתיבה של שימבורסקה, המתורגמת לאנגלית, מרגישה מוכרת, בכל זאת זרה, אולי בגלל התרגום, אולי בגלל התחביר. היא "נשמעת" קצת כמו עולה חדש מרוסיה שנמצא בישראל כבר הרבה שנים. השפה רהוטה וקולחת עם מהמורה קלה פה ושם בנגינה. כשאני מדבר אנגלית, מדי פעם חסרות לי מלים. אני ממציא ביטויים שמסבירים את מה שאני מתכוון בצירופים שחדשים לחברה מסביבי. מעמדת הקורא, אני מתרשם שהשפה של שימבורסקה מעוררת בי התרשמות דומה אולי לזו של השומעים אותי במקום בו אני נמצא. מהמקום בו אני נמצא, אני מתחבר חזרה לויסלבה.

כשחזרתי מאיטליה עם הקאמפר החדשות, הסתבר לי שזה מותג ספרדי חם בשוק האפנה האירופאי, כולל ישראל. תהיתי איך הייתי מתייחס לנעליים בחלון אם הייתי יודע על כך מראש. לא מפריע לי להסתובב עם מותג. מפריע לי לקנות אותו רק בגלל שהוא זה. עודד, שקרא לי בעברית חיבור אחד מתוך הספר, חסך ממני את הפרט הלא רלוונטי של פרס הנובל בו זכתה שימבורסקה. כשפניתי לקנות את הספר חשבתי לעצמי, האם אני קונה אותו בגלל שאני מושפע מהמפגש עם עודד או כיוון שמשהו בטקסט היה באמת חזק מספיק עבורי.

אחת השאלות ששאלו את ויסלבה, משוררת פולנית ידועה, שנפטרה בת 89 ב 2012, היתה למה לא פרסמה יותר שירים. התשובה שלה מחזירה אותי לקרוא את החיבורים שלה, "הבלתי נחוצים": "יש כבר סל מיחזור אצלי בחדר".

Bus Ride Reading (Ignorance is bliss)

In 2009, my parents visited us here in Vancouver. Somewhat unexpectedly I realized an issue that had bothered Yohanan, my dad, for years. In one of our morning walks he mentioned the advantage we’d had over him. Being Israeli born to immigrant parents, he always felt that his exposure to language was compromised. He expressed awareness to the fact that we, his children, grew up in a Hebrew speaking household. That confession provoked layers of thought in me. I could sense the frustration in him, the envy as well as appreciation and respect. We are sometimes blind to the complex reality we live in until the person with us shares their own. My drive to improve and distil my own process of expression and writing is already established. However, my skills are deemed futile without an audience.

As I am writing these words, the irony in my dad’s state of mind has not escaped me. I have never considered his level of expression as missing much. But our chat in which he managed to express his awareness to that perceived fault, keeps me alert in my encounters with other people. From those I appreciate the level of expression as superior to mine I try to learn. With the ones whose level might be lower I try to be careful, on the one hand with patience and on the other - support; being patient in listening and supportive of the effort to try.

This memory came back to me as the thirty days from my dad's passing away (on 21 November 2015) approached. I was just about to complete a piece of commentary following a few days of commuting on bus to work. The link between the opening above and my commentary seems natural to me if not immediately obvious.

Bus Ride Reading (Ignorance is bliss)

What do we occupy ourselves with? I am reading a book, named ‘Non-required Reading’ (initially introduced to me in Hebrew as ‘Optional Reading’). One day I might remember its author’s name and manage to pronounce it. The question above rolls in my head as I am reading and beyond. I wonder what it is that attracts me to it and what turns me off.

Later I read snippets of information about Wislawa Szymborska. This quick exploration throws me back to the first ‘Campers’ I have purchased.

In the streets of Milan, 1999, I passed by a window where a pair of shoes made me stop. It was as if I found something I had been looking for my whole life. They were beautiful in an almost unnoticeable way. And yet they were waiting for me. When I tried them on, their comfort was only surprising in light of past experiences, where what looks comfortable turns out to be less so or even not at all.

Szymborska’s writing, translated into English, feels familiar yet still foreign. Maybe because of the translation, maybe due to its syntax. She “sounds” a bit like a new comer from Russia who’s already been away from homeland for many years. The language is fluent and flawless with a screech here and there in its music. When I speak English, occasionally my vocabulary fails me. I invent expressions that explain my ideas in combinations that are new to my listeners. From the reader’s point of view, my impression of Szymborska’s language is probably similar to that of my audience, in the place where I am. From where I am, I re-connect with Wislawa.

When I returned from Italy to Israel with my new Campers, I realized that they had been a hot Spanish brand in the European fashion world including that of Israel. I was wondering how I would have treated the shoes had I known about that in advance. Not that I am worried about being dressed in a brand name. I am simply averse to buying a brand name just because of it. Oded, my friend who introduced ‘optional reading’ to me, read one of the book’s pieces in Hebrew. He had spared me the irrelevant knowledge of Scymborska’s being a Nobel prize for literature winner. Still, when I considered buying the book I asked myself whether I was buying it just because of my meeting with Oded or thanks truly to the strength of the book’s text.

Wislawa, who died at 89 in 2012, was a well known Polish poet. She was asked once how come she hadn’t published more poems. Her response draws me back to her “non-required” essays: “My room already has a recycling bin.”

Just Watching

Since my previous post, Marylee and I have shared a few interesting experiences. At the Burnaby Public Library I saw her talk about "Life from the Land". Then came Balcony Tales by Helle Windeløv-Lidzélius. Marylee saw it in DOXA. Anat and I watched it at home. Birders: The Central Park Effect by Jeffrey Kimball made me take the DVD from the library and have a home screening for the lot of us, Marylee, Anat, Inbal and I.

Our day in North Vancouver. Monday, May 18th 2015

Monday, May 18th was a bright, partly cloudy day. Inbal was handed a spare pair of binoculars and we headed towards a small pond where the ducks were doing their job caring for a bunch of ducklings that were past the chick stage. It is truly magical to watch the view magnified several times through the binoculars. It's not a bad idea to remind a ten year old about some safety issues such as removing the binoculars from the eye while walking and such.

Heron waiting patiently for its catch.

Between the four locations marked on the map there was much walking and watching. We didn't return home as fanatic birders but the fun of watching birds and hearing stories about them will stay with us. One of the highlights was the reminder that birds are everywhere in the city. Marylee wanted to show us a hanging nest she's seen the other day on 5th. When we got there she realized that the tree must be a block or two away. But then Inbal noticed another hanging nest on a tree beside us. We got there just as the parents were feeding their chicks, which were probably just a little more excited to be fed than us observing the excitement.

Robin pecking the grounds at Harbourside.

Still, the presence of humans in the environment and their influence on it always raise the awareness of the challenges wildlife face in their survival. Our own passive form of watching movies about nature and wildlife is just one step in caring for a balance in ecosystems. Some of the Central Park birders of New York express an awareness to how bizarre they might look to "outsiders". I think we should keep in mind that there would always be someone watching us and considering to join. This is the audience that should interest me. The engagement with uninterested people can come in other ways.

Pigeon Gillemot on its way from one side of the pier to the other.

Urban wildlife flock to the city because of the opportunities to feed, breed and have shelter. Our ways of building and maintaining the city are not geared towards the well being of wildlife. And yet there are many who find the benefits of our systems. Observation, one of humans' core skills responsible for the achievements of our society allows us to notice the effect of our environment on the one we grew out of.

Bushtit rushing away to find more food.

It always intrigues me to find connections. From the walks with Marylee I am reconnected to the discussion of wildlife in urban settings. Our discussion waves through endless other topics that allow me to weave another set of thoughts into the quilt of a larger story. And it doesn't end there. What remains is a fleeting moment of beauty.

Time for walking, time for talking

Marylee and I were discussing a jog one day. In her interest to show me some of the lovely birds you can notice anywhere you go in the city it was just a matter of finding the right day. At about 8 am it takes a while until I manage to board the Skytrain. Then another fifteen minutes pass and I am at the Lonsdale Quay where we get together on a sunny April morning.

Apart from birds, Marylee takes photos and videos of urban action of interest. She is a storyteller, who is busy living her life to the fullest. I have recently helped her set up a blog dedicated to documenting those jogs she takes. Gradually we are going through the various tools in WordPress that allow you to share your stuff out in the world.

A wide variety of landscapes can be experienced when you let yourself wander without constraints of time.

Using the path making tool in Google Maps is not perfect in terms of interface but it works. The first walk we had together turned out to be about 5.5 KM long. Strangely there is a bridge spanning the Mosquito Creek's flow into the bay that is inaccessible to the general public. The Squamish Nation Reserve has private property signs along its roads. As pedestrians we take the liberty to use them instead of the noisy streets surrounding the reserve. We later walk beside the heavy traffic on our way back to the Quay.

If you have patience, you might get a shot of the heron shooting at a stray fish. Not much luck this time for me.

Many ducks can be seen in and out of the water. In the sky you can notice seagulls, crows and ravens. Within the Vancouver Shipyards territory, an eagles' nest can be seen high up atop one of the massive cranes. How well the birds are faring is hard for me to know. Some of the challenges for urban wildlife are documented by organizations such as the Vancouver Avian Research Centre.

At least when this guy moved, the spread of its wings was magnificent.

Our walk continues on the Spirit Trail that has steadily evolved since the first decade of the millennium. The lovely pedestrian bridge over the train tracks takes us to 1st street west, where we head back east. We take one of the patterned crosswalks to get to the north side walk. The traffic is pretty heavy now. We grab a coffee and a tea to chat a bit about Galapagos and Darwin. Marylee is working on the third edition of her book. I am in the middle of reading a biography of Darwin written by Janet Browne.

We called this a Jalk. Marylee is the one of us jogging. For me the pace is quick walking. The point is having a good balance of exercise and companionship. Along the way we enjoy the scenery that is changing as we move in space. Our memories and projections notice the changes that the scenery is going through in time as well.

I got to know of the Spirit Trail through one of my submissions for public art in North Vancouver. The patterned crosswalks are another feature of this city's care for the public realm.

How are we doing, you may ask.

Fine tuning a message is like mixing colors to reach the perfect hue. The industry would always market the latest offering as the best ever. Then next year a new variant will show up, again, as the ultimate solution.

Strength Based Learning (SBL) is a fine title for an educational concept.

For me, an underlying tension exists between our intentions and the resulting messages we try to promote. My interaction with my daughter involves many expressions of behavior. Some of them are more pleasant than others. As she acquires the communication tools through exposure and practice, our interaction becomes more complex, challenging and rewarding. What is it in what we do that helps her in life and what might it be that undermines her progress? These questions are hard pressed to provide answers when dealing with other adults.

Many times I brought home exams marked at 97 points out of 100. My grandmother used to ask me “Why not a hundred?” She always did it with a smile that showed her content. But the message stayed: anything but perfect is not good enough. This search for balance between aspirations and reality is a life long endeavour. Everyone has a version of it that is made of infinite bits of beliefs and behaviours that make any of us what we are. Social interaction is a journey full of collaborations and confrontations. Throughout life I absorb ideas as well as reject others. In raising my kid I hope to expose her to experiences that lead her to socially healthy independence.

What is the state of social health in our world, our city, our neighbourhood? My daughter is an avid reader, so it seams we’ve done well so far. In the context of SBL we are commended as well as encouraged to go for more. But more might not necessarily mean more of the same. In the meeting with Faye Brownlie I found myself saying that our kids don’t need us that much. When adults try to discuss methods of promoting success of their kids I tend to cringe a bit. The intentions are all positive and worthy.

Children grow into their family and almost simultaneously out of it. We have a varying degree of control over their lives. My hope is to see my daughter confidently take control over her own life. She might share her perception of our efforts in the future. At the moment her ability and interest in doing so are limited.

Until we get her feedback if at all, we are busy mixing the colors in search of the perfect hue.

Strength Based Learning

In January this year Norquay School Principal Tricia Rooney shared with parents at the PAC meeting the concept of Strength Based Learning. On Tuesday, March 12, Faye Brownlie, a literacy and learning expert shared insights with a few parents and teachers at the school library. Teachers and Staff of Norquay Elementary in Vancouver have been introduced to Faye and the principles of Strength Based Learning by Tricia some time before. Faye Brownlie’s talk provided an intriguing window of thought into issues relating to the education of our children.

The focus of Strength Based Learning is in promoting the natural ability of anyone to succeed. For better or lesser reasons, our interest in promoting our kids’ success is always challenged. In society we then face a reality that not all of us are performing to the extent of our ability.

A child’s entry into adult world hinges on their ability to communicate in support of the society we all rely on. Play, learning and practice expose us as kids to a process that eventually becomes who and how strong we are. As adults we continue to play, learn and practice. As parents we hope to pass the better parts of our strength to our children.

Reading and writing are the core tools that enable us to connect in society. How to promote literacy in the early stages of life is where Strength Based Learning has a lot of insights to offer. Faye’s work around BC and elsewhere is an ongoing effort of keeping us connected to the simple truth that any of us is successful.

Norquay PAC shared the costs of inviting Faye to talk on this occasion. In appreciation to this and Tricia’s enthusiasm as an educator, I will continue to contemplate more at the topic and post new thoughts as they surface.

bed time stories

Despite the inefficiency of reading in bed, I somehow managed to go through some intriguing books lately. When I come across a book that interests me, it feels like a conversation. Sometimes I wish I could write as well as the person talking to me from the pages. Sometimes I disagree with the ideas expressed. Every reading turns into a point of reference.
To Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point I got after hearing him interviewed on CBC Radio. He sounded like such a nice guy from nowhere as far as I could tell. Ah! I only turned on the radio after the interview had started. So he's a pretty well known New Yorker Magazine writer. Well, I liked the way he spoke. He says things in a pretty much similar way to what I think. Then I saw him lecturing through poptech. No, I once fantasized having hair like his. I had started balding when I was 19. I've been shaving my head almost ever since then. We're definitely not the same person.
The scope of information available in today's communications is also part of the intrigue. A quick research into your subject of interest makes it feel like you own it. Malcolm is a household friend. Jared (Diamond) is patiently waiting for me to read him after Anat hands him over to me when she's finished. Guns, Germs and Steel is a bit thicker than The World Without Us by Alan Weisman. It always wakes Anat for a few more lines of reading as she struggles through the paragraphs that gently fall on her nose as she drifts to sleep. One of the print industry's most useful accessories comes in handy on such occasions.
Only after browsing with Netscape for a few years did I realize where the expression Bookmark had come from. Having worked many years with Explorer now, the habit of reading books is still one of my Favourites.

visit to israel

Aya died (30^th of March 2009). From the stories of her diabetes, the infection in her leg, her hospitalization, it seemed to me that her days were numbered. Maybe it was easy for me to feel that way because I am away, in Canada, while they are back in Israel. When Aya died there was wonder as to what had killed her. 65 is not considered old age these days. A day or two before her death she was diagnosed with cancer.

Death is a straightforward reminder of the insignificance of our existence. 'How we die' by Sherwin Nuland describes the six most common processes that bring our bodies to the moment of death. A fascinating book that shows how boring and predictable death is. The author's intention in writing this book came from the realization that lack of information is at the base of the emotions surrounding death. My grandfather, who I have never met, died at 56. Before my father turned 56 he seemed to have been counting the days.

When I was riding my motorcycle a few years earlier, at 29, I was hit by a car. This near death experience was more frightening to everyone around than to me. For the first week, although regarded conscious, I was completely disoriented. I have virtually no memory of that time. If anything stays with me from that time it's the fear of injury and not the fear of death. So what makes so many of us cling to life so badly?

Before we die we want to leave a mark, to create meaning. In death our value can be calculated. Initially that value is described in terms of loss. Eventually memory is gathered to become a legacy. Aya's legacy is hard to describe in elaborate words. It's one that is less of her own life yet belongs to her life.

She really liked us, her nephews. We made her happy and she wanted us to be happy.

In her death, I remember her fondly.