Thoughts on Effects of Loneliness and My Talk Last Night

So last night I finally made it out of my house to attend services at my synagogue. It was our annual service for Trans Day of Remembrance, and I delivered a talk to open the service which I will include below. The services are televised, thus the photo I included above.

It is not easy getting out. First, I have steep stairs I must negotiate, using the rail and my strong-arm cane to stand up. Plus, I made a grave mistake hauling the notebook with my talk enclosed, my Siddur (Order of Service used by Jews with all the chants, songs etc), a thermos and a bottle of soda. I drank none of the soda, and when I got home, it took all my strength to negotiate those stairs. I honestly was afraid I would not make it.

I was warmly welcomed by my community, and it was good to see everybody. I needed this trip deeply. But (Isn’t there always a ‘but’), I realized how much living alone with just me and my wife and she is not a talker has affected me, in what I think is a negative way. After the service, people came up to talk to me. And I found myself embarrassingly unable to engage in the active conversation to which I was once accustomed. In another time, I would go up to complete strangers and engage them in conversation. Indeed, two people I’ve known for years mentioned that I was one of the first people to approach them and it helped them know this was the shul they wanted to attend. None of that old me seemed to be present last night, and that bothers me no end!

I’m presently engaged in an effort through my Caring Community to begin an initiative to tackle loneliness. Right now, I feel like I’m being put off, but I’m going to keep trying. Because I know with certainty that I am not the only one. There are a number of people like me who are elderly who face this matter which the Surgeon General describes as a genuine health risk akin to smoking 15 cigarettes a day. There are others who for a variety of reasons cannot go out and engage in public spaces. I’ve formulated a written plan and have no intention of letting this go. For I see how it has affected me and I can’t let it go.

Anyway, here’s what I shared last night as an introduction to Trans Day of Remembrance:

Introductory Remarks for Trans Day of Remembrance

One of the things I dearly love about our tradition is the way we mark passages of time, a commitment to celebrating those special moments in life’s journey. We celebrate birth days, baby naming’s, weddings, special moments in the passage of our lives. But we also remember the lives of those who have gone before us. It is our tradition to zachor, memory. This week, the world celebrates Trans Awareness Week. In March, we have Trans Visibility Day. These markings of time are important. Tonight, we honor our dead, those who were lost due to undeserved violence.

TDOR began in November of 1999, but its roots go back well before then. In the early nineties, the place online to meet was in AOL chatrooms. At first, they were banned as pornographic, but AOL finally relented. I frequented one room called the Gazebo. Before that, we didn’t know about the too often murders of trans souls. We knew we had to be careful on the streets, but not much beyond that. Our awakening began in ’95, with the death of Tyra Hunter. She had been in a bad car accident in D.C. EMS arrived and started to work on her. But when they opened her pants, they stopped and began laughing at her, not working to stop her bleeding but just standing there and laughing, exclaiming “She’s a dude!” After arriving at the hospital, there was no transfusion, and she was not referred to a surgeon. She died for lack of care because she was trans. In our room, led on Sunday nights by Gwen Smith, the founder of Day of Remembrance, we would share this story, then another with a quiet time for those who had died. When my partner, Skip died, they did a similar remembrance in his honor supporting me. In ’95, Chanelle Pickett was murdered and in ’98, Rita Hester, both from the same area in Massachusetts. In ’99, Trans Day of Remembrance was born.

So much has changed since then. We spoke of the gender spectrum, but too often related in the binary still. Trans people are coming out much earlier now and they have opened the early conversation to a much broader understanding of non-binary identities as well. My heart swells to see what’s happened, far from those early days when small groups of us came together in mutual support. I transitioned in Houston, Texas beginning in 1990. In our group there was one person in her early 20’s, but most of us were older. I’d been out as gay, acting out with drag, but well, that was performative, not the true me. Today, parents have approached me, asking how they can be better parents to their trans child. How beautiful is that? It was not always that way.

But… the violence against trans people has not stopped. Indeed, the numbers of homicides against us have grown as we’ve become the target of the political right or rather, wrong. So, we gather here tonight to honor our beautiful trans souls lost this past year to violence. We Jews are open containers, holding both our life passages and our grief. For me, I include in my prayers, too many trans people I have known who have also passed. My friend Monica Roberts who wrote a blog called Trans Griot in honor of and a memorial to black and brown Trans people, too many of whom are on these lists year after year. Or another friend who I will not name who lived in the wrong place and after constant attacks from others in the neighborhood, committed suicide. I’m thankful to live in Minnesota now, where while one still must be aware of their surroundings, is so much safer than where I came from. And I am thankful for this congregation who is so supportive and loving. Thanks each and every one of you. Let me end here with this verse, a part of a much longer spoken word piece I wrote years back and often quote on such occasions. It’s a bit of a mantra for me, and I suspect others feel similarly.

“I can only be me and you can only be you and we can be we or never.
But my truth will remain, agree, or complain, and from my truth you cannot sever,

For in truth to self I have found truth in others and the same for love it is clear,
To leave behind that which is me would leave me with nothing but fear.

My soul lives and will beyond death and it is a beautiful soul prepared to love, prepared to live, prepared to dance.
If you dance with me, then we dance together, but if you cannot, I shall dance alone.”

Shabbat Shalom.

A Difficult Month 11-12-23

A Difficult Month

11-12-2023

Oy what a month it’s been. I could have named this article “It Sucks Being Old”. First, we are approaching winter in Minnesota and the regular shifts in weather are predicted by the often-excruciating pain in my lower back and well, the rest of my body. Nothing new there, but it is trying. My beloved wife is in the other room with her own pain. She doesn’t deal with pain well, so I’m listening to a steady “ummm…ummm… and it hurts me when it’s hurting her like that. While mine is ongoing, her pain comes in daily attacks for 3-4 hours.

Then there is the aftermath of the war overseas. As I view the bias all around me in the press and officials, the anti-Jewish hate that is spreading all over the land, well, it hurts my soul. Online calls for the return of the ovens. Really? Hate on both the right and the left of the Jew. People I once called friends declaring one sided biased rhetoric with absolutely no concept of the sheer complexity of it all. The Red Cross refuses to even demand to see the hostages taken on October 7. It’s obvious how the Shoah happened.

Will I stop wearing a kippah? Um no. I’m a Jew and will be me just as I am. I now know better who I cannot trust to hide me if we descend into another Holocaust. Being trans and gay when it wasn’t cool has given me great antennae for danger. I wish it were not so, but it is what it is. And we as Jews will not sit quietly. Am Yisrael Chai.

In other news, next Monday is Trans Day of Remembrance. My Rabbi reached out to me to make some comments in honor of the day at Friday night’s services. It will be so good to be among my peeps again. I hardly go anymore, simply because negotiating the pain and steep stairs is just too much for me. I’m alone (well me and my wife but she doesn’t talk much) most of the time, so being there with the people I love will be a special treat, pain be damned.

Anyway, this was an update from a moment in time, the ramblings of an old woman. Pain is increasing so I’d better bring this to an end. Short and sweet.

Shavua Tov and Love y’all; Jessica aka Yiskah Rachel

Difficult Weeks as An Elderly Jew 10 20 23 5784

Complexity vs Free Palestine Binary Thinking

So, life is complicated for me these days. With required wheelchair living in an upstairs apartment, I don’t get out much, and rarely have a visitor save the caregiver who comes to visit 2 hours each week. My wife is not big on conversation while nothing I love more than the art of said conversation. I rely on social media for connection to the outside world.

But then October 7, a time culminating the High Holy Days with Simchat Torah, Hamas, an organization devoted to the death of Jews, invaded Israel, slaughtering innocent men, women, children, killing innocent babies, raping and murdering and taking hostages back into Gaza. 1400 Jews, most of them non-combatants were murdered on that fateful day.

The response by so many here in America has been… “Free Palestine.” Folks, Hamas does not represent the interests of the Palestinian people. They are akin to Isis. Most Americans have no concept of the complexity of the situation there, nor do they have any understanding of why a Jewish state was necessary, nor the history of efforts for a two-state solution that was turned down time and again by the Palestinians despite the best efforts of the world. They do not understand that with this Israeli government led by the right-wing Likud party has not been a friend of the Palestinians, but yet a significant portion of Jews and Israelis have worked for years to find common ground. Radical leaders on both sides have worked to the detriment of their own people. Not unlike here in the US I might add.

So when I try to go online, I’m met with accusations and massive simplistic responses to a complex issue. Yesterday, a woman chastised me for being brainwashed for supporting Israel after a terror attack against them. Let me explain a bit about me. My degree in college was Asian Studies, which included the Middle East with additional studies in International Politics. I’ve been engaged most of my life in a study of the region and the history of the Jewish people. Most people for instance do not know that when Jews were kicked out by the Romans, for most of the 1900 + years we mostly were not citizens in the lands where we lived, and in the cases where we were, it was a citizenship with conditions. Our people were attacked and slaughtered over and over throughout the years leading up to the Shoah. Here in America, antisemitism has been rising at alarming rates once again. I have family that was in Israel during the Yom Kippur War, 50 years exactly prior to the attack this year. Gaza was not under Israeli control. It was ruled by Hamas, and many of the folks slaughtered in the kibbutzim were ardent peace activists who would bring Gazans into Israel for medical care they could not get otherwise.

Lots of other facts come to mind. Like the land that was called Palestine by the Romans after they kicked us out never had self-rule. Some Jews remained in the land after many were kicked out. It has always been a mixed population. But consider this. The US was attacked in 2001 when radical Islamists with roots in Saudi Arabia crashed planes into the Twin Towers. We went to war with both Afghanistan which had connections with Isis and Iraq which did not. We took out the leadership of Isis over time, and innocent people as in all war were killed. Just over 2000 were killed. Israel lost 1400 innocents by a group who during the slaughter left behind Isis’ literature and gleefully filmed the slaughter of innocents. Any nation, and that includes Israel, have the right to protect their borders.

If you want to talk about statehood for Palestinians, I am all ears. At least when this all dies down. I support the rights of Palestinians and a two-state solution. One can be pro-Israel AND pro-Palestinian. Bibi’s government is one thing, but the people are another. Just like we are not all in the image of Trump, Baruch Hashem. But American obsession with their guy with a white hat/ guy with a black hat view of this part of the world are not serving us as well. I did not see this sort of uproar following the violation of basic human rights and the killing of innocents by Iran. Or by Saudi Arabia. Or countless other places around the world. Only Israel, and always in opposition to Jews. Being opposed to actions by the Israeli government is not antisemitic. But attacking not only Israel, but Jews around the world is.

Okay, I’ve spent years studying the region, and yet give no claim to being an expert. But people, why do you in a world filled with propaganda on all sides and without becoming an expert either in the region or Jewish history and the history of the land feel it is okay to attack Jews and people with connections to the land. Or do you say, well, I’m a liberal and liberals support free Palestine, so I don’t dare do anything but follow the status quo? And who said this was required anyway?

Anyway, in my lonely world atop an apartment in NE Mpls, a source of connection is endangered by the either/or folks of this world. It is impossible to fully discuss the intricacies of these issues via social media, or even in this little blog I do. I’m no stranger to hate, either as a Jew or as a Trans person, or as a Gay person. But it all pains the soul more than folks understand. Especially since some of it has come from the people I consider friends. Just do remember, typing words seems harmless enough, but can cause pain regardless.

Shalom b’ Ahava (Peace and Love)!

Aging in Perilous Times 10 03 2023

As a trans lesbian Jewish elder, I cannot ignore the ugliness that is today’s political reality. One of the two major parties has declared war on people like me, and so many others as well, all in the name of some imagined white Christian nationalism. Their tactics hearken back to a better name for their philosophy, that name being fascism. They are beholding to one supreme leader who despite his many crimes (91 indictments so far) can do no wrong. They demonize minorities because, well, that’s what fascists do. The Christo fascists among them call for putting us away in camps or alternately shooting us in the back of our heads. Wow, recollections of the SS Einsatzgruppen in WWII. Laws are being passed in several states criminalizing our existence in their war on woke. Attacks on our communities, enflamed by their rhetoric is at an all-time high.

But not just as a minority, they seek to cut critical portions of my income, specifically social security, and Medicare. Not to mention RSDI, SSI, food assistance, the list goes on. Just so a few billionaires can become even wealthier.

So attacks on our communities are nothing new, though not so widely publicized and encouraged by people who presume to be leaders. Once upon a time for instance, homosexual conduct was a felony. Goodness, once while wandering my Houston neighborhood years ago early in my transition, I found myself surrounded by thugs fully intent on beating the crap out of me. I’m not sure where it came from, but I began a full drag queen act, and they began to laugh. In that moment, I broke free and ran faster than I ever have the block and a half to a local police substation. No one was caught, but I lived to see another day. But we were NOT targeted by leaders, rather mostly the target of those who were afraid of us or had been taught we were somehow evil. We did not have Congressmen or Senators pointing the finger at us, and aside from certain fundamentalist preachers, we got little attention from them as well. But goodness, hate can be found at every turn these days. We are the target to distract the poorly educated who feel left out from the real source of their hard times, much as politicians have always done. For whom? The rich and entitled of course. It was said that Hitler once remarked that if there were not a Jewish people, he would have to made up one. Absolute power ascends often by creating a common enemy. Today, people like me are that enemy.

I’m so thankful to live in a progressive state that celebrates my existence. Oh, there are still haters here, but are not supported by the political leaders or the law. I could never return to the state I grew up in, because every trans person there walks around with a target on their backs. Texas has made it illegal for instance for me to use the bathroom. But... the haters want to bring this hate and division to our federal government as well.

So it is that I view the coming future with a certain apprehension. In my younger years, I could be out there working within movements to counter this rise of authoritarianism. If needed I could disappear for a time or run from danger if needs be. But today, I’m a 76-year-old disabled woman in a wheelchair, no longer able to drive, and with insufficient resources to pack up and move away. I view the coming future with hope, but growing trepidation that hope may not suffice. Will we as a people head off this growing fascist trend? If they do take control, what will the people do?

Now I know there are those who would seek to assure me. No this would never happen. You are blowing this up out of proportion. But see, I’m a student of history. Societies rise and fall. Germany in the early twenties was the most liberal nation in Europe and a gay mecca for many. Rome began as a Republic. MAGA is allied with and supported by Putin. We simply do not know how this will all play out.

So yes, I do have trepidations. And as one of many elders, there is a lot on the line. No, I won’t lie awake at night worrying, but it does bear mentioning, for the concerns are very real. Underpinning these times are a rise in racism, antisemitism, homophobia, transphobia, and distrust/fear of immigrants. Our nation and our democratic way of doing things is under attack. We are each called in our own way to ensure this does not happen!

High Holy Days 5784

A Jewish Elder Participating from Home

Now I confess, of all the Jewish holidays, far and away my favorite is Yom Kippur. The music and chanting from centuries of experience reaching deep within one’s soul. Kol Nidre vibrates my very soul within, sung three times, releasing us from on wanted or involuntary vows. The short and longer Vidui or confession, where we confess not as individuals, but as a community. I was looking forward to Kol Nidre this year. I had been asked to write a kavanah or intention leading into HaTefilah or Standing Prayer, in part recited out loud, but then the rest in silence. It precedes the Vidui.

Having just a few years ago conquered a lifetime of stage fright, I was excited to be able to get up there and do my thing. But then life played one of its little tricks. First, I came down with a pesky UTI, just days before the service was to begin. I reached out to my doctor explaining my situation, and while normally I would be asked to come in for labs, she bypassed it and sent in an antibiotic on an emergency basis. So, I figured I could still show for my talk. Well, not so fast. Because I then came down with a nasty upper respiratory infection.

Finally, Saturday, I reached out to Rabbi. I would not be able to be there. Fortunately, there was a volunteer who stepped up and delivered my words beautifully. The Rabbis also offered loving healing prayers which I deeply appreciated. Jazzy, if you happened to read this, thank you ever so much! You were a true lifesaver!

So these High Holy Days were spent at home. I encountered disappointments, but also found blessings along the way. Kind of life though isn’t it. I love my community and life for that matter also this respiratory thing is getting to be a real pain in the butt, truth be told. I’m enclosing the words I wrote below, and on this Yom Kippur, perhaps I should focus on the Malkhut, the Shechinah, that which is real within, where inner peace will lie and where love resides.

A Kavanah for Ha-T’filah

We have, until now been individually absorbed through Elul and Rosh Hashanah, looking within, and making right the wrongs of the past year. Here we come together on Kol Nidre, communally, seeking atonement. In our searches, we made right what could be made right, while knowing our efforts have been imperfect. Here we throw ourselves on Hashem’s mercy as a community, to make right what we could not. We ask for Kapparah, a cleansing of the slate.

Not long ago, I heard a drash by Rebecca Silver of IKAR that resonated deeply with me. She shared that in Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism, each of the Patriarchs were assigned energies, aspects of who they were. Abraham was Cosmic Love, Isaac was Cosmic Scripture, and Jacob was Compassion, where love meets healthy limits. But the Matriarchs? Each in their time, Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel, and Leah each possessed the energy of Malkhut, or the Shekinah – The Divine Presence. That which is most real, and present. The aspect of Hashem which is with us on this earth.

Speaking for myself, there are unreconciled wrongs, things which despite my efforts, made reconciliation impossible. I doubt I am the only one here for whom happened. Tonight, before Hashem, I ask forgiveness.

Together, we pray as community, not individually, for atonement for our wrongs. Praying for each other even if we did not do a specific wrong ourselves. I call on each of us to seek the energy of Malkhut, the energy of the Matriarchs, that which is most real within each of us, as we pray our Standing Prayer, Ha-T’filah. It is a time for each of us to ground ourselves in our reality, our truth as we prepare for Vidui, our confessions. Baruch Hashem.

House of Pain: The Music and the Humor 09.22.2023

How Old Folks Cope

One of the things I and my wife must navigate in our “Golden Years” are regular bouts of pain. How I wish I could take her pain, if only because her threshold for pain is much lower than mine. Plus, she is one of those who won’t go see a doctor.

On occasion, I’ll have a particularly bad day during her bout. I find it interesting that hers occurs daily between 10:00AM and 3:00 PM. What despite it all that I find amusing are the moments when she goes “ah ah” and I’ll begin “mmm mmm”. Eventually the sounds begin to alternate with a chorus of “mmm mmm” “ah ah” in perfect harmony. I begin a gentle chuckle, because often it’s better to laugh than cry. I suppose the next step is to add lyrics.

mmm mmm ah ah
Look at us we’ve come this far.
Turn our pain to a song.
Praying we don’t have to sing too long!

One of the great things about growing old is even in the more difficult moments, we can find ways to extract a smile. It’s been a difficult week for this old soul. Today is Friday and I’m scheduled to give a short talk Sunday night for Kol Nidre. So of course, Wednesday, I come down with a UTI. I reach out to my doctor and explain my situation. Normally they want to do a urinalysis, but considering the tight schedule, we took a chance on getting the right antibiotic. As recently as this morning, I was not sure if it would work, but now it is clear it is.

It will be good to see my friends. It is said that when one grows old, our world shrinks. Besides my wife who is not much on conversation, this social butterfly lives a very solitary existence. A caregiver comes for a two-hour time slot once a week, and we have wonderful conversations, but that’s about it. Though a friend from shul reached out to me last week about coming by for a visit and for that person I am so grateful. But regardless, I try to stay busy and productive. Neither of us drive anymore, so it does get lonely at time.

One thing I’ve noticed is the degree to which my day is planned. So, I’m a late sleeper. Always was, so no surprises there. I arise, do morning prayers, watch videos, and catch news while eating breakfast, then turn my attention to one of several possible tasks, including Talmud study, writing, reading archaeology magazines and journals, plus fulfill any duties connected with my participation as leader of the card team for our caring committee to request and track cards sent. Oh, and any housework needing completion. Then around 3:15 I fix supper. About 4:30 I check Facebook, Tik Tok, and Threads. At 6:15, there is evening prayers, then a replay of one of the Time Team shows. It’s a British series of archaeological digs. It lasted 20 seasons, then recently through Patreon have begun doing new digs in the UK. I’ve seen all the programs, but they are relaxing and each time I rewatch one, I pick up on facts I may have missed before. Then I go to bed at 8PM and watch silly videos until I get sleepy and doze off. Lol rinse and repeat!

If I were more mobile and still drove, I’d go back to my old photography hobby, and spend a lot of time at my synagogue doing volunteer work. But as mentioned before, my world has shrunk. I just realized I had talked about some of this in a previous post. Lol memory loss is a real thing don’tcha know. I think I’ll leave it as is because this description of my routine included more detail. L’shana Tova. May you be inscribed in the Book of Life.

Growing Old...Together 09-10-2023

Twenty-three years ago today, a week before our very public wedding as a same sex couple using a narrow technicality created by Texas courts, Robin and I quietly drove to San Antonio. Our attorney was concerned that the religious wrong as I prefer to call them might get one of their judges to issue an injunction. So, we went over and were married in a quiet ceremony to ensure that we would have a license in hand should such unwelcome news arrive. We, therefore, not uncommon in the lgbtqia+ world, celebrate not one, but three anniversaries. First, Thanksgiving Day, 1999, when she moved in. Then September 10th, the date of our very private marriage, and finally September 16, our public ceremony.

Here we are, 23 years later, still married and still very much in love. We have seen in our years together, good times and hard times. The good times are, well, good. But the hard times are weathered together. Let me share something about me right here. All my life, I’ve been given to song. Not that I can sing mind you. But I create my own songs in my head and sing them out loud, and they actually rhyme. Now why Robin did not leave me the moment she started hearing me sing baffles me to this day. But not only through thick and thin, but also my singing, she persevered. Now that means she really must love me!

So the other day, we were both dealing with a lot of pain. In one room she is going “ugh…ugh…ugh.” Meanwhile in the other room, I’m going “ohh…ohh…ohh.” There was a rhythm to it. And so it was that I did what I’m prone to do. Here’s approximately what came out of my mouth. Approximately, because old age memory is not what it once was:

Growing old… Together (singing)

We are… growing old together.
Whatever pain we may weather,
We weather together
Together forever…

Did I mention I’m doing this in her doorway? She looks at me, my painfilled face looking at her painfilled face and we smile, yes, together. I so wish I could take her pain away, and I know she wishes the same for me. But it is our reality. But I thank heavens every day for a love that has endured the test of time. So, for fun, here’s a poem I wrote sometime after our first date as a couple. Enjoy!

FIRST DATE

Her presence enters mine,
My heart opens in ecstatic shudder
For the prayer of your touch,
Your scent, your voice, you!
Wakening reality your eyes meet mine
Gaze broken by self-conscious flutter
Of lids...blinded by blest closeness and hopeless desire.
I long for the words to come, some words come forth.
Muttered in unconscious babble,
For my senses have fled.
Your eyes twinkle,
no doubt in delight of my discomfort.
Your aura absorbs my desire
And I bask in you!
Through my eyes, you have entered my soul,
Possessing me surely as Hecate might
possess one of her toys,
To be cast aside if she should tire.
And your hand takes mine, oh softer hand
Never known, yet powerful,
Leads me to your world
Sights, sounds, senses. Dazed and powerless
You lead me to such longing for your sweet touch.
As I am possessed, aching need
For my heart's captor grows with each moment.
My soul hushes, your breath touches my lips
Your lips seal the deed.
For if this is not love, who needs love?
You smile, no doubt in your new conquest.
And for that smile, my life is now complete.
In this flurry of sights and sounds
Time respects not our need
And you release me.. yet released I am not.
Instead the craving holds my soul ever captive
For soul has mingled with soul
And peace so desired, can only be known
With you... and I wait...

Jessica Wicks copyright June, 1999