By Any Other Name

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…” –Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

One-hundred and fifty years ago, without even knowing it, Charles Dickens encapsulated what social networking has become. It does provide the best of times; finding old friends, keeping touch with family, seeing weekly picture updates as a grandchild grows up somewhere across the country.

And, it is the worst of times. People being fired for Facebook status updates, on-line social stalkers, identity theft.

But in what should be an age of wisdom with unfettered access to more information in .29 seconds than Voltaire, Socrates, Michelangelo, Da Vinci, and Einstein had access to ever in their combined lives, we continue to prove this the age of foolishness, at least, social foolishness.

Luckily (insert sarcasm HERE), technology providers are finding new and inventive ways to help us shoot our own eyes out. Microsoft has released the Outlook Social Connector for Microsoft Office Outlook. Basically, this connects all your Outlook contacts to their information on Facebook, LinkedIn, MySpace and more. You’ll see status updates, comments, messages and alerts from the social networking sites all in one place for your contacts. Cool for you, but also remember the flipside. Now your boss, co-worker, neighbor, stalker, vendor, customer, and crazy Aunt Sally can all follow your social doings in one place without even having to try.

For some (this guy included) this raises the question of privacy and Big Brother and how much is too much? How “connected” and transparent do you really want your life to be? For many like myself we try to keep two separate identities in the social space; one business appropriate, the other inner-circle friend appropriate and “never the twain shall meet.” (Rudyard Kipling, The Ballad of East and West) However, this is becoming more and more problematic as advances such as the Outlook Social Connector spider out and aggregate material on the fly.

Your best defense? Don’t be stupid. Sounds easy enough, yet a week doesn’t pass where you can’t find mention of someone getting fired or not getting a job because of what information lies in the social aether (yes, this is the correct traditional spelling used in this sense). Use the rule of thumb I was taught as a child. Don’t do anything you’d be embarrassed about if your grandma read it on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. So, don’t post without thinking. Mistakes can follow you forever, just ask Monica Lewinsky, Roger Clemens or Tiger Woods.

Also, use your knowledge to set up as good a firewall between your two personas as possible. Know what Facebook is publishing publicly and control it. If you don’t care, trust me, they sure as heck don’t.

Remember, this information never dies. Digital copy is around forever. Just because you delete it doesn’t mean it’s gone. It could be days, months or years before it shows back up, but it can and does.

I began with a famous beginning, let me end with a famous ending. Just know information, like plague bacillus, never disappears for good.

“He knew what those jubilant crowds did not know but could have learned from books: that the plague bacillus never dies or disappears for good; that it can lie dormant for years and years in furniture and linen-chests; that it bides its time in bedrooms, cellars, trunks, and bookshelves; and that perhaps the day would come when, for the bane and the enlightening of men, it would rouse up its rats again and send them forth to die in a happy city.” - Albert Camus, The Plague

Humanity lost, humanity gained

We’re on our way to the Sachsenhausen concentration camp and I’m not sure what to expect. I know what I’m supposed to think and feel, but that that translates into reality remains to be seen.

As we walked up to the entrance it was strange, and a bit disturbing, to see that houses have been built right across the road from the camp. Not across a highway, not across a four lane major street, no, right across the two lane, busted pavement road. Who would want such a house? It simply seemed wrong. As we continued the walk I froze as I looked into the camp and saw smoke billowing from a chimney that appeared just inside the walls. A moment of actual, palpable panic set in even as I realized it was simply a heating vent. Is it maybe we see what we want to see, or perhaps what we were expecting to see? I don’t know, but my heart did race and I did feel a moment of heightened alertness not expected while “on vacation.”

Hours after the camp and the group’s reactions seemed to range from completely indifferent to clearly moved and upset. I also notice a few people having, what appears to me, a delayed sense of distress. My reactions… well, I don’t know. I know, since when am I one to struggle for words? I simply didn’t feel the connection I thought I would. I think there’s two reasons for this. One, I have no personal family connection to this place as my family’s history lies in Lithuania. Secondly, no mass crematoriums. This was a true concentration camp and not a death camp. People were murdered and tortured and humiliated here, but not on the mass scale as a full death camp. The difference has never been as apparent to me as it is now.

I guess I also feel hopeful. Here we were, a group of Jews with varied backgrounds and different family stories, after a near total annihilation of European Jewry, standing at what was, for Judaism, death’s doorstep; living, praying, thriving. What’s more, we’re not here in secret, some clandestine action designed to smuggle Jews into forbidden territory so they are able to feel a sense of history up close. No, we were here, in part, at the request of the German government. We were here not to mourn the past nor as a token gesture of reconciliation, instead, we were here to engage modern Germans in cultural, theological and simply personal dialog. To learn together, to educate one another and to make the “other” take form of someone real, someone tangible, someone with a name and a face. Germans are no longer simply “them” or “they” to me, rather Germans are people with names like Nadine, Sascha, Esther and Johanna. I hope we have made a similar impact. After all, it was humanity that was lost in the Shoah, not just humans.

Berlin Day 3- Shabbos

Walking through the memorial of the murdered Jews of Europe was disappointing, if not upsetting. Let me first explain the structures. A large plot of land covered with 2,711 gray columns of various heights in a very symmetrical layout. The ground undulates up and down throughout the exhibit as you walk toward the center. The varying heights and slight directional confusion of the obelisks, due to the undulating ground, causes moments of disorientation. The sounds of the city go quieter and quieter as you move to the center until you feel almost alone, with nothing but the sight of cars and people in the distance keeping you centered in your reality. Below all this is a museum with much more detailed information and is very well setup in its own right.

The physical structure itself is a very well designed monument. You can agree or disagree with the minimalist nature on the outside, but you can’t argue that is it a work of art and one paying tribute appropriately. My issue comes with the upkeep and the demeanor of the visitors. Cigarette butts, gum and trash are strewn about the memorial. People are jumping from one column to the next and even playing hide-and-go-seek. Not children, but adults! They clearly don’t get it and it worries me that the message will be completely lost and the site itself will become a trivial byproduct of what some might view as collective guilt. The juxtaposition of these activities and attitudes from Germany to that of the United States amazes me. I thought we were the lazy, lax ones and Germany was the structured one. Goes to show you what assumptions do. I was fully expecting the type of cleanliness and reverence I see anytime I visit Washington, D.C. memorials. You don’t see people climbing up to jump off Lincoln’s lap or cigarette butts and trash lining the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Perhaps I need to adjust my expectations… then again, there are certain types of respect that don’t need translation.

Berlin Day 1

NOTE: Although the trip is over I want to continue posting my diary comments in order. The lack of sufficient internet access quite limited all of our ability to upload during the trip, but I will continue doing so over the next few days.

Ok, so I had my very first moment of being an uncomfortable Jew in Germany. After dinner me and two other guys, one local, one participant (Elliot), headed to a local neighborhood bar away from the touristy stuff. As we walked in I was keenly aware that we were definitely dressed differently and thus, weren’t the average locals. We walked up the steps and turned right and there, about 10 yards away was the bar with the most Aryan looking guy ever. Tall, dark facial hair, bald head and wearing a tight black t-shirt. I swear straight out of a movie. We walk in and past him and all I can think is, there’s got to be a punch line in there somewhere. “Three Jews walk into an Aryan bar in Berlin…” Thus the journey begins.

In the "Now"

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently, not that that is much different from normal. My mind is almost constantly running at several thousand RPMs. Back in the day they called it “not paying attention,” nowadays I believe they call it attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder. I like to call it “multi-tasking.”

I guess the difference the last few months is I’ve been really focusing on my upcoming trip, which just happens to start tomorrow. Here’s a brief overview of the trip. I was selected to be one of 15 “young Jewish leaders” (their words) from around North America to go to Germany as part of an AJC (American Jewish Committee) trip focusing on interreligious dialog, and in particular, the Oberammergau Passion play. (Press release) Now I’ll be posting plenty more on this as the trip wears on, providing WiFi access is as readily available as it seems from my reading, but here’s the rest of the itinerary.

After 10 days of the program I’ll head to Freising where I’ll work a few days at my company’s Germany office. After that, I’m off to play! First I’ll be heading to Prague, then Vienna, Bratislava and finally Budapest where I’ll eventually catch my plane home. Sounds like there’s a joke in there somewhere… “A Jewish Texan walks into a bar in Bratislava…” And before anyone freaks out about me posting I’ll be away from my house, as the good folks at http://pleaserobme.com/ have pointed out, I want to ease your mind. First off, I’ve got an alarm. Second, two separate neighbors don’t work and are home all the time, and know I’m out of town and are thus keeping an eye on things. Finally, honestly folks, I was thinking about it and I have nothing anyone would want to steal. An 11 year old big screen? Take it. A dining room table? Have at it if you can figure out how to get it out of the house without taking it apart. My extensive beer collection? Just make sure you close the fridge when you’re done. I was actually kind of sad when I really thought about it. My house would be the worst place for someone to rob! No jewelry, no cash, I’ll have my passport with me, no good financial stuff as every one of my accounts is password protected with a password that’s never been written down; I guess a single guy just doesn’t have that much good shit to steal. This really did kind of bother me. Oh well, I’m over it.

So, back the point (Yes, there will be one). With all my focus on the upcoming trip I realized something yesterday. I’ve been looking ahead so much I’m afraid I’ll forget to just be in the now when the trip gets here. Seriously, how much do we do that in this day and age? So I’m making a promise to myself to NOT look past a single day of the trip. There’s been lots of planning and there is a ton of excitement right now, but with a 3 ½ week trip looming I can’t constantly be looking ahead. I think I’ve simply gotten caught up in the hustle and bustle of running the rat race. My G-d, it’s already May, MAY for G-d’s sake! Where the fuck did 2010 go already? Wasn’t it just yesterday we were in 2005 and feeling like the date didn’t meet our expectations? I mean really, I still want my flying car. But that’s just it, we’re constantly looking to the next great thing. Yeah sure, “stop and smell the roses” is a clichéd saying, but there really is something to it. I think part of what caused this to hit me was reading my buddy Jared’s blog about his travels, http://theunload.blogspot.com/, and coming to the part about being in a small bar. I won’t retell the story, it’s there if you want to read it. Search for the part about “Mikos” if you want to cut right to the chase. Anyway, in my mindset from 3 days ago I never would have had that type of encounter because my head simply wasn’t in it. I’m challenging myself to stay in the moment during this trip, and then, to try to do the same when I get back.

Each day brings something new, but usually we’re simply too busy to see it. I’m committing to pull back the blinders and hope you can too. Don’t let it take a major trip, or a major life event to trigger your awareness. Search for the “now” now, not later.

… to continue in English, press two

I went to pay a ticket the other day and, although paying online is an option, when searching for my ticket number the database returned “no citation found.” So I called the police to see what the deal is. (Side note: found out that the ticket will post sometime in 30-45 days; however, you have to have paid your ticket or requested a court date within 21 days of receiving the citation, otherwise a bench warrant is issued. Your tax dollars at work.)

So I call this number (214-670-0109) as directed on the Dallas City Hall webpage (http://www.dallascityhall.com/courts/court_online_payments.html). As usual an automated message picks up and confirms, yes, I’ve called the Dallas Court Services line, just as expected. Next, it launched into the exact same speech in Spanish. Ok, this is a 50/50 proposition these days, but not a surprise when calling the DPD. What happened next made my jaw drop. In Spanish the message continued on passed the greeting and asked you to press one (1) if you wanted to continue in Spanish. Then, in English, it came back and asked you to press two (2) if you wanted to proceed in English. Yes, you read that right, one for Spanish, two for English. Call it for yourself; again, 214-670-0109.

Now I’m no foe to diversity and I believe in most tenants of the various equal rights organizations, and even support some of them monetarily and with my time. But isn’t this the United States of America? I know full well that the United States has no “official” language, but you can also note that, as of this writing, 28 states do, in fact, have English as their “official” language. And official or not, there is no disputing English is the language of commerce and law of this land.

Are my expectations so out of whack? If I were to move to another country I would full well expect to have to learn the native tongue. When I travel abroad the first thing I do when I know I’m going is look up key phrases and memorize them, then begin building myself a pocket cheat-sheet of other useful phrases in the local language. Why? Because when I’m in a country where another language is spoken I fully expect it is ME who needs to change, not them. When my great-great grandparents came to this new land that offered them an opportunity to prosper, they learned English, and without all the help that is now available such as English as a Second Language (ESL) classes.

Now is this really about having to wait an extra 5 seconds and then press 2 for English? No, it’s about the implication of this and other such actions we see happening. Diversity is a good thing, something to be celebrated, as long as diversity doesn’t mean complete division. Yes, we support new immigrants with ESL classes in public schools; yes, we provide help by making available multiple language forms at the DOT (DMV in some states) as well as hospitals and other public buildings, as we should. But I ask, where does it stop? I won’t be so bold as to say I know the answer, but I can say that pressing 1, not 2 for English would be a good place to start.

So why is it everyone sues to make sure they are “included,” yet in areas where they need to make an effort to be included all the sudden we have to make special arrangements? We are a land of immigrants and this past is part of what gives us strength as a nation; what binds those otherwise singular strengths together is our sense of community, one nation, together. Together in our own unique ways, but together for the common good.

"The strength of the United States is not the gold at Fort Knox or the weapons of mass destruction that we have, but the sum total of the education and the character of our people." United States Senator Claiborne Pell, for whom the Pell Grant is named.

The social degradation of any society begins with the language. Once communication skills are hampered, collapse of other social institutions is inevitable. We need to begin to expect more from our newly welcomed immigrants. Keep your traditions, keep the best parts of you and your heritage, but join us in becoming “one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”