Tisha B’Av and TV

by marjorieingall on August 9, 2019

Here are some things I wrote: A look at activism planned for the Jewish holiday/fast day of Tisha B’Av (here’s a hint: #JewsAgainstICE, #CloseTheCamps); a 30th anniversary tribute to Lois Lowry’s great Number the Stars for The Horn Book (not online, sorry); and a suggestion for how to pair two different picture books about gratitude from two different cultures.

Again, I feel dumb writing flippantly when terrible things are happening all around us, but here I go. The rest of my family was away for much of the last week, so here are the things I binged on TV!

  1. Always Be My Maybe (so freaking funny! and the lovely cinematography made me feel warm about San Francisco again, which is quite an accomplishment! and yay, Keanu!)
  2. The entire sixth season (so far) of Younger (as ever, a daffy skewed look at book publishing plus really fun clothes — there are at least three web sites and tumblrs devoted to the fashion — and as ever, Miriam Schor is a delight, BUT ALSO for the last two seasons Laura Benanti has been a delight!)
  3. The entire third season of Jessica Jones (so well-acted — brava especially to Rebecca de Mornay — and it’s a whole show about complex female relationships: between friends, and between mothers and daughters)
  4. The godawful but very shirtless Red Sea Diving Resort

Now that the fam is back, I need to finish Queer Eye with my older daughter; The Boys with my younger daughter (such a darkly funny, cynical look at the marketing of superheroes and patriotism!); and Good Omens, Pose, Better Things, Big Little Lies, and When They See Us with my husband.

Escapism: Essential right now. 

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only talking about positive things in this post!

by marjorieingall on July 22, 2019

SWEDEN, of all places, has become a huge source of Yiddish children’s media! Meshuggeh!

The woman who runs the chevra kadisha (Jewish burial society) in Santa Cruz offers beautiful advice about living, gleaned from 20 years of her work in death. 

Just finished watching Stranger Things 3. I’d gotten the impression the season was weaker than its predecessors. I didn’t think so. I loved all the ’80s pop culture references, and loved that one of the themes was growing up at a different rate from your friends. So much middle-grade fiction seems to address this, but not many movies or TV shows. It was also super-fun seeing the brand packaging and logos from that era again. Also, I had a shirt very much like the diagonally striped, elbow-length puff-sleeved number Nancy Wheeler wore. (Most of her outfits were actual ’80s dead stock, though that top was apparently made by the costume department.)

Also, I extremely belatedly saw Booksmart and thought it was hilarious. It’s just a remix of a trashy ’80s teen comedy, but centering female friendships, feelings and experiences. I do wish they’d left out the teacher-student sex (just because it’s a female teacher and male student doesn’t make it ok, even when the teacher is played by the wonderful Jessica Williams) and the deliberate dosing of someone else with hallucinogens played for laughs. Uncool.

Did I mention I am going to Burning Man? I am going to Burning Man. It’ll be my husband’s 21st burn, my first.

 

Also, this is a fashion challenge that I vow to rise to.

I invented a delicious salad: Spinach, arugula, lemon cucumbers from our garden, warm chicken grilled by my husband, sliced peaches and radishes in a sriracha carrot ginger miso dressing. Feta or nuts would have been good but feta with chicken isn’t kosher and if I eat nuts I die. Which would not make this a positive post. 

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a meditation on borscht and family

by marjorieingall on July 8, 2019

Ah, the potency of borscht as memory. Look, it’s no coincidence that no one is neutral about borscht: You love it, you hate it, or you have never tasted it. There is no neutral. Because for Ashkenazi Jews and Eastern Europeans, borscht is family history. People get fierce about how to make the proper borscht. There’s even a children’s book called The Princess of Borscht about how EVERY borscht-maker feels her borscht is the best borscht (I wish I could recommend it — the text is wonderful but I loathe the static, wispy art).

Also, while we’re pondering hot vs. cold, here is a quirky history of NYC’s public bathhouses and outdoor pools (unshockingly, both are products of Jewish visionaries in different decades). Happy summer. 

 

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9 bits of historical ephemera found while cleaning! 

by marjorieingall on June 15, 2019

In no particular order:
 
1. The first (photocopied) issue of Bust Magazine! I remember a fun rooftop launch party in 1993.
 
2. An ad for Sassy in Ad Age, starring me and a reader! I remember the Sassy staff being peeved & mortified at being made to do ads. (Not as peeved & mortified as we were by the Sassy Experience Game tho.) 
 
 
3. A long-lost zine by a girl who bailed on her Sassy internship after one day and wrote an EXPOZAAY in which she said I dressed like a suburban Cure fan. I have remembered this for 25 years. Found the zine a couple months ago at Anne Bernstein’s yard sale, SHRIEKED!

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Tootsie and Anne Frank (this is a bad post title)

by marjorieingall on June 9, 2019

Yay, hip is better. Two steroid shots, new NSAID, started physical therapy.

Also yay, I am ridiculously excited for the Tony Awards. I’ve seen way more of the nominated shows this year than usual, maybe because more shows this year than usual were feminist-ish, LGBT-ish, or media-related-ish.

Here is a Tablet piece I did on the Jewification of Tootsie: The Musical. The Broadway show is way more Jewy-feeling (and way better) than the movie; I rewatched the latter and it’s mostly cringe-inducing, sorry. The show is still problematic, but at least trying? However, I am IRKED that no one is talking about how Dustin Hoffman, credited as a producer on the musical, has been accused by several women of sexual assault and sexual harassment. So that’s nice. 

Hoffman responded to the first accusation with, “That’s not who I am.” And coincidentally (really!) I just wrote about the offensiveness of the phrase “This is not who I am” for SorryWatch! (So many celebrities have said it; I did not know until I googled yesterday that Hoffman was one of them.) But uh, the entire cast of Tootsie: The Musical is delightful and I will be happy if Santino Fontana wins a Tony and I will rewatch all of his Crazy Ex-Girlfriend videos in tribute. (But I want Hadestown to win for best musical, because it is no question the best musical.)

Here’s a piece I did for our indispensable neighborhood blog, EVGrieve, on a manga-obsessed (and charming!) librarian new to our local branch.

And here’s a piece on why people should stop writing children’s books about Anne Frank. They’re frequently saccharine, universalizing in a damaging-to-history way, trivializing even when they’re well-meaning…and given how badly Anne wanted to be a writer, can’t we do her the courtesy of reading her work? If you feel your child is too young to read The Diary of Anne Frank, maybe WAIT rather than giving them a picture book narrated by the tree outside her window or her roommate’s cat? Also, maybe there are some other stories — maybe even some non-Holocaust stories! — more suitable for picture books? Maybe the Holocaust, as I have noted in multiple pieces, has developed a dangerously outsized role in contemporary Jewish identity? 

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game of moans

by marjorieingall on May 12, 2019

Warning: Whine.

I have a brutal cold and ALSO sudden and terrible hip pain. Knew about the bursitis and tendinitis, but an x-ray showed BONUS arthritis and a bone spur, woot. I suspect this is all a result of the rod-implantation and removal surgery I had on a broken femur when I was 11. But who the hell knows. My family is at the Lizzo show at Brooklyn Steel, and I can’t stand up for that long, so I’m feeling sorry for myself.

Look at Lizzo at the Met Gala. 

WE PERSEVERE.

I was stuck on the couch, so I watched the Mr. Rogers documentary, and I swore I wasn’t gonna cry and then I cried. It’s beautifully crafted and the last few minutes are so moving. Here’s a quote (from a bit earlier in the film, not from when I was crying) about Mr. Rogers’s decision to come out of retirement to do a special on 9-11, despite not being sure he could help. He said, “I felt that I had to speak to the families of our country about grief — a plea not to leave the children isolated and at the mercy of their own fantasies of loss and destruction. Children have very deep feelings, just the way parents do, just the way everybody does, and our striving to understand those feelings and to better respond to them is what I feel is a most important task in the world.” 

I MEAN.  

Which is a good segue to this piece I did for the New York Times Book Review about three lovely short novels for young readers that tackle loss and grief. I also wrote about the first national study of Jewish grandparents for Tablet, and did a fun history piece about lessons modern-day women activists can learn from the Kosher Meat Boycott of 1902. It is so instructive reading the Times’s coverage of that event: It treats the Jewish women strikers like animals — uncivilized and instinctual and clueless about how the world works — and blithely excuses police brutality. I did like one description of the women protesters:  “Armed with sticks, vocabularies, and well sharpened nails.” We can do that!

 

 

 

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post-seder meditation

by marjorieingall on April 25, 2019

Excuse me while I kvell. (No, not “keel,” you freaking WASP autocorrect.) My teenage daughter made our Passover Haggadah, in the style of a zine, and the ’90s are totally back as I am sure you’ve heard.  [click to continue…]

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11 years of chalking

by marjorieingall on March 26, 2019

Just skip this whole post if you’re sick of hearing me talk about CHALK,  the wonderful art project created by multidisciplinary artist Ruth Sergel, [click to continue…]

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a ribbon of stories

by marjorieingall on March 25, 2019

Today is the 108th anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that this event has been central to my American-Jewish identity. I’m not particularly devout; my interests lie in Jewish culture and storytelling, NYC history, labor history, immigrant rights, feminism, the value of tikkun olam (healing the world). The fire ties together all these narratives. I’ve written about the event and its aftermath for the Jewish Forward, for Tablet, and on this blog. (Google, if you want.) Right now, when human rights in this country feel precarious, it’s good to remember that a hundred years ago, young women like Clara Lemlich — a tiny dynamo who didn’t even speak English! — fought, at great personal risk, to galvanize workers to strike and succeeded in creating safer workplaces and better lives for their fellow Americans. Sweatshops are still an issue all over the world, and I don’t mean to minimize that. But today NYC has laws against child labor and to protect workers, and codes to make buildings safer. Collective action and commitment can have a real impact.

Thanks to the efforts of the volunteer Remember the Triangle Fire Coalition, work has begun, at last, on a memorial at the site of the factory. (Which is now an NYU building, like everything else below 14th street.) Fittingly, the Coalition  turned building the memorial into a participatory act. Last week, I helped with the fabrication process at the Fashion Institute of Technology — architects, fashion professors, activists, survivors’ descendants, Jewish and Italian and Chinese women — the last group are leading the fight for NYC workplace rights today — gathered to create together. There were a handful of men. Not many. Also fitting. What we worked on together was lovely, inspiring. 
 
 

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on change and on parenting values

by marjorieingall on March 20, 2019

I’m ambivalent about the departure of my longtime East Village neighbors, the Hells Angels. I’ve been on the block for 18 years (chai!); they’ve been here for around 60 (the history is in the link). Here are two pics of my actual building — the Angels’ building is across the street — back in the day. It was abandoned sometime in the ’70s or ’80s and became a squat, then the roof started collapsing, then it was sold by the city to a 21-year-old baby proto-developer for a dollar, then the wee Master of the Universe-to-be gradually fixed it up (when we arrived, everything in the back of the building, including the chimney, was painted a hideous seafoam green, because he apparently got a deal on boat paint), and when we moved in it was an interesting mix of artists and creative people and now it is…less so.

I’m not sure when either of these pics are from. (Do you?) I do not own them, found ’em online, and will take ’em down if asked. 

 

Let’s see. In other news, I raged professionally, like everyone else, about Operation Varsity Blues. Not to brag or anything, but I am proud that cheating is not one of my many, many vices. And I did not raise cheaters. I truly believe everything I wrote in my book about raising kids to be independent, ethical, mensch-y people. THAT IS YOUR JOB AS A PARENT. And if you have a certain amount of privilege, as I do, part of good childrearing is opting out of the crazy-people competitive child-rearing race. My kids went to the diverse, progressive little public school down the block (and to bring this full circle, the original principal just told me on FB that at the beginning of the school’s life — it opened in 1991 — the Angels donated $50 for books every year!) and then to a diverse, non-fancy, progressive, non-testing-oriented middle and high school. These schools have served them really well. My kids aren’t assholes. And they are both curious and clueful about the world.

It feels apt, at this time when we’re pondering widespread system-gaming (of a system that’s already designed to privilege the privileged!), for me to quote social reformer and activist Caroline Pratt (1867-1954), upon whose philosophy my girls’ elementary school was based: 

I had dreamed of a child world in which railroads and city streets, farms and factories, the stuff of which the real world is made could be brought down to children’s scale so that they might grasp it. I had envisioned a community of children who could in their own way, through the child activity, which we misguidedly call play, reproduce this world and its functioning. Such a community of little individuals, equals in size and strength and understanding as adults are equals in their own adult communities would learn not only physical truths about the world, but social truths as well, the all-important truths of people with many individual differences who must live and work with each other.

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