Recently in Personal Category
Today, July 2nd would have been my father's 98th birthday and not a day goes by that I don't miss him. Every day, something flashes through my mind, across the computer screen or on TV that makes me, just for an instant, think I should call dad. But I can't. He's been gone a little over a year and a half and it doesn't yet seem real. How can someone so huge in life, so forceful, so robust, so devoted to the betterment of the world no longer be around, fighting the good fight? It's not fair. The world is a poorer place.
That said, his progeny and grand progeny are carrying on his legacy as best we can. We're not a large family by most standards but what there is of us is pretty special in that there are really no "black sheep" in the family, politically speaking. You hear about apples falling far from the tree but we're all clustered around the trunk.
Dad was an amazing man by almost any measure. He stuck to his principles even when doing so cost him his place at the law firm he had built for 40 odd years. He was a defense attorney who specialized in civil rights, labor and international law and counted Dr. Benjamin Spock, Dashiell Hammett (dad referred to him as "Dash"), Jimmy Hoffa as clients and friends and was a frequent chess partner of Che Guevara. He represented the government of Cuba, Papandreou's Greece, Angola and the Nicaraguan mission to the United States under Ortega, among others. He defended countless nameless teachers, union workers and anti-war demonstrators though the McCathy 50's, the 60's and the anti-Vietnam War 70's with courage and conviction, although many were pro bono and none brought him fame or fortune. He was truly an inspiration.
He and mom dragged me around the world as a kid and as such, gave me my wanderlust but I think he was happiest digging in the garden of our house in East Hampton. Summer, winter, hot or cold, you could find dad in East Hampton every weekend and most holidays. If it was too hot or too cold to work in the garden he just sat on the couch and read or on the deck and watched the squirrels try and get at the bird feeders. I think he would be very happy that I've moved out here. I don't have my feeders up yet, but I will. There will be seed in the summer and suet in the winter and if I can help it, the neighbor's cat won't get any of my birds or rabbits. Dad protected his birds, too.
Happy birthday, dad. I miss you.
Wow. I just looked at my blog and realized that it's been more than six weeks since I posted an entry! I have sort of an excuse seeing that I was homeless for a few week, looking for a place to live and then a major move to East Hampton, but still, six weeks? LAME! So here I go. Rabbi Report 3.0 starts....NOW.
I seriously don't know what the next 11+ months is going to bring for me, but suffice to say, this isn't just the rebirth of the blog. Over the past 4-5 years I've lost both parents (insert Importance of Being Earnest ref. here) lived in LA, New York and now East Hampton, worked in a variety of positions, including film festivals, freelance writing, blogging for an award-winning ad campaign and I've been a character in an ARG. And now....country squire? We'll see. For now, I am busy planting a vegetable garden, buying bird feeders and keeping the neighbor's cat away from my birds and bunnies. That and whipping the house into shape with, I am relieved to say, a little help from my friends! God knows what it would look like if I was left to my own devices.
At any rate, I'm back. There's likely to be a lot more about food and cooking, here from now on. I won't be skimping on other things, but my nine week trip through the south this Spring inspired me as a cook, as a writer and as someone who is concerned with what we're eating and drinking as a nation. I was introduced to the work of some outstanding chefs and food luminaries in my travels, including "eater/writer/educator" John T. Edge and chef John Currence in Oxford, MS; chefs Donald Link and Stephen Stryjewski in New Orleans; chef Frank Stitt in Birmingham, AL and chefs Sean Brock & Mike Lata in South Carolina. All of whom you'll be reading about, along with many more in the coming days and weeks, complete with mouth-watering pics from their establishments and maybe even some examples of my own experiments with Southern-infused Long Island cooking. Stay tuned!
Until next time, here are a few pix of my new (rented) house (after the jump) in East Hampton and a couple of yummy goodness!
Yours from Northwest Woods,
Mark
NB: The pix are not loading well. I hope to fix them soon!
-M
Today, March 30th would have been my mother's 79th birthday, had she not passed away on January 9th, 2005 so I thought maybe I'd post a few pix and say Happy Birthday, mom! This first one is from her trip to India in the early 1960s. One of my regrets regarding my parents is he lack of conversations I had with them about their lives. At least with dad I have his book to read and re-read (will be doing so later on this trip, actually) but with mom, all I have are fragments of her memoirs, which she was working on before she died. I would have loved to talk to her more about India and the Movement, but I can't. So I make due with her writings and stories from her friends and pictures.
In 1960 mom was working for the National Guardian and it was for this newspaper that she would cover the Civil Rights movement. While packing up the apartment, I came across her official press ID card, signed by the notable and much revered journalist, James Aronson, for whom the James Aronson Award for Social Justice is named.
In 1957 mom traveled to "Red" China, in violation of a US State Department ban. (Not the first or last time she'd do something "against the rules,' BTW!) She was already at a world youth conference in Moscow, so what the hell, right? She went with 40 others, some of whom would become lifelong family friends, including my godmother Faye Goodman, the reverend Warren McKenna and his wife Elizabeth and the late Sally Belfrage, one of the finest people I ever knew. Below is a picture of mom (2nd left), Warren and Faye. Not sure who the young Chinese woman is. I suspect a translator.
Below is the New York Times article from August 15th, 1957 about the trip to China:
After my preamble trip to Hagerstown I had just enough energy to check my email when I arrived. It had been a rough day, considering I'd moved out of the family home I'd had for 30+ years, so when I pulled into the hotel just past 11, I didn't even care that I'd missed the cut-off time for beer at the hotel mini mart by only 5 minutes. I didn't even pitch a fit when the guy at the front desk told me that they were out of foam pillows. My allergies made me pay for that one.
At any rate, I was up at 8am and ready to go.... and after the mother of all time sucks, a visit to a local mall for some needed road supplies, I was on the road to Louisville and 534 miles awaited me. Were I driving with another person, 500+ miles wouldn't be a big deal but alone? It's drowsy time. Seriously, after about 375 miles or so I find myself chanting things like "badda badda bang ging gong bung ding badda ding big gong dang..." like some half-baked Bhangra singer with tertiary stage syphilis.
Drive alone, for hundreds of miles and you might find yourself talking to yourself. Or maybe even your video camera:
If you needed proof that the Mason-Dixon Line really does start at the Maryland border:
As some of you know, I have embarked on what might accurately be called an adventure. 2 days ago on Friday, March 6th, I left what had been been my family home for more than 30 years for the last time. With both my parents having passed away (and having sold the apartment) it was time for me to move on. That said, I'm not entirely sure where I am moving on to. To that end, I have embarked on a 6 week, 16 state road trip around the Southern United States. To wit:
Why? Well, I'm going to South by Southwest and thought it would be fun to drive there. Then I realized that the Sarasota Film Festival starts shortly after SXSW ends, so I figured I'd drive there. Then I realized that since I'd be in the neighborhood, maybe I should visit New Orleans and some places in Alabama and Georgia that figured prominently in the Civil Rights Movement. Pretty much all of my family was involved in that monumental struggle and I feel like I should pay my respects, especially in light of our new president.
After that, it's on to Sarasota, other parts of Florida, South and North Carolina, Virginia...and well, we'll see! Along the way I'll be shooting video, eating and drinking some local specialties and just generally commenting on my trip. Should be fun!
Day one was uneventful...besides leaving my home. After I closed the door for the final time, I noticed this on the door and peeled it off. It's getting framed:
Then I got in my car and left Manhattan.....
I'm going to take a moment here and post a rare personal piece on this blog. I don't do it very often, so bear with me, ok?
Four years ago today my mother, Joanne Grant Rabinowitz died suddenly of heart failure. The family was not expecting this and to say it turned things on their heads would be an understatement, as anyone who's experienced a similar situation can understand. Mom and I had what might be called a rocky relationship and as is often the case, it is only in death that our relationship "improved," as I find myself forgetting and letting go of the bad memories and feelings and missing the good, regretting not having the chance to improve our relationship.
At her memorial service a few months after she died, countless family friends payed their respect in addition to people I didn't know, all telling me how wonderful my mother was. The thing is, they didn't live with her, so it was like there were two people being remembered: Joanne Grant (her maiden/professional name) award-winning filmmaker, journalist, author and civil rights figure and Joanne Rabinowitz, my mother who drank too much and with whom I fought on a daily if not hourly basis for as far back as I can remember.
She was an amazing woman by many measures and it is only now, removed from our relationship as mother and son that I can begin to really appreciate her and mourn her loss and mine. All the rancor and anger fades with time, leaving the good memories and the sadness that comes with unfinished projects, again hers and mine. We never got to repair our relationship and I never got to read her memoirs or see the films and books she was working on.
I do have her existing books to read, film to watch, friends to talk to and memories to recall. In the end that's all I can ask for, I guess.
One year ago today, November 16th, 2007 my father Victor Rabinowitz passed away at the age of 96. I was in Denver, where I am again heading in a few days. My friends there helped me through a rough night and the following morning and I'm looking forward to seeing many of them again and raising a glass to my dad.
He would have been proud and amazed at what this past year has brought. One of the most amazing political campaigns in history culminating in the election of the first black president and likely, the first time in world history that a majority has elected a minority to lead a country. Truly remarkable.
He spent his his entire life working towards justice for the oppressed, including spending quite a lot of time in the South during the Civil Rights Movement. He was a hero of a magnitude rarely seen these days and had he witnessed the election of Barack Obama it would have warmed his heart to no end.
Here's what I wrote at the time. It's been a very fast year and I miss him every day.
It's been some time since Barack Obama was declared the presumptive nominee of the Democratic Party and I meant to write something then, but well, you know. I got busy and stuff. I meant to write about how proud I was, as a mixed-race, politically active man in a heretofore white political world. I wanted to write about what a party my mother Joanne Grant would have thrown at our house and how, as a fiercely proud mixed-race woman she would have whooped and hollered. (I think she would have supported John Edwards in the beginning because he ran to the left of Obama, but when it got down to it, she would have been ecstatic.)
I meant to write about how I sat there, watching Obama's speech early in the morning on June 4th, weeping and missing my parents. They were so politically and socially active and they would have been so happy to have lived to see that day, a day that even as recently as this past spring many thought couldn't happen. Until very recently, even for the most enlightened and progressive among us, the idea of a black presidential nominee, a serious presidential nominee was a quixotic tale, at best.
To presume that Obama was probably followed around by store detectives in the Honolulu, LA and New York malls he probably frequented when he lived there would not be a stretch. Hell, I bet he got that treatment when he was a lawyer, state legislator and US senator. Of course that was only until someone recognized him. Then it was all nervous "please don't sue us" apologies. The equivalent of the store saying "Oh! We didn't realize you were the good kind of nigger!" There are thousands of tales of driving while..., shopping while..., jogging while... and walking while Black.
Sorry I've been so sporadic of late, but I've been concentrating on my new gig, working for a new short documentary publishing company called Cinelan. We launched it at the Berlin International Film Festival earlier this month and it's a pretty cool new initiative. Check us out!
You are invited to join me, my family and friends as we celebrate and remember the life of my "unrepentant leftist" father, Victor Rabinowitz (July 2, 1911 - November 16, 2007) on Saturday, January 12th, 4pm at the NYU Law School, Tischman Auditorium, 40 Washington Square South, between Macdougal and Sullivan Streets.
Every year, when I was a child, my mother would throw lavish New Year's Day parties at our house in East Hampton. They had pretty much stopped by the time I was old enough to really enjoy them, but for a few years it was a tradition and all of our friends would come over for caviar, homemade blinis, champagne, martinis and I assume, a fair amount of Bloody Marys.
Well, my mother passed away on January 9th, 2005 and my father died this past November 16th and I miss them both very much. I will be selling the apartment they (and I) lived in for much of the past 30 years and in part to honor them and in part because I consider New Year's Day a much more interesting holiday than New Year's Eve, I am preparing to host my first ever New Year's Day party.
In typical fashion, I have let my ambition and natural hosting tendencies take control over the part of the brain that controls reason (the neocortex, I believe...erm...Wikipedia believes....) So, as a result, I am attempting to serve the following during the day...I'll let you know, with pix and hopefully testemony, on what I succeeded in preparing:
Morning:
Bagels and lox, coffee and juice.
Lunch/dinner:
Bonac Clam Pie
Smoked Sausage and Black Eyed Peas
Maine Shrimp Boil
Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Pie
Saucisson sec w/cornicons and truffle butter
Assorted cheeses, blue, stinky and others!
Sage beer cheese bread
Oysters Rattray (A family recipe from old family friends from East Hampton. Alas, sorrel was nowhere to be found, so I will have to make due with baby spinach and lemon juice to approximate the taste of the sorrel.)
Half a freshly smoked and glazed ham
And, if we have the energy tomorrow, cookies.
Here's a few shots of the prelims:
"Before" shots of my living room, kitchen and fridge:
The first chocolate bourbon pecan pie (the stuff around the edges is the sugary, chocolaty, pecany overflow. It's the stuff of gods):
On Friday night, November 16th my father, Victor Rabinowitz, passed away quietly at home. He was 96 and to say he had lived a full life would be a vast understatement. He was a truly great man of integrity who taught me appreciation for many things including politics, baseball, gardening, photography, chess, Shakespeare and classical music, among others. It was also because of him and my mother that I was able to travel at an early age and develop a love for other countries and cultures.
Despite my early (and continued) support for the dominant New York Yankees and Dallas Cowboys, I was taught that in most situations, the underdog was to be supported and that those less fortunate deserved respect and wherever possible, a leg up. Among those items in the above list, "politics" is probably his lasting legacy to me, because it was through leftist politics that I learned an appreciation for all those things in which any good progressive believes.
Social programs designed to help the poor and infirm; the need for universal healthcare; the right of citizens in a so-called free society to speak out against the government when necessary (and even when not...it's one of those rights that works both ways); that people should be paid a fair living wage for a day's work and anything less than this is exploitation, regardless of the country in which it occurs; that the US is not the boss of the world and it is not our business to poke our nose in where it's not wanted simply to make a few rich, white Americans even richer (they can't get any whiter, trust me).
We spent endless hours discussing the miracle that is baseball. We both had an unending curiosity and appreciation for the sport and could watch it and talk about it for hours. His was such a long life that he once saw Ty Cobb steal home at Fenway Park and went to the 1928 World Series. I can only imagine what it must have been like. He also drove a Model-T Ford at summer camp (it was actually an old car at the time) and rode a trolley past dairy farms in Brooklyn to visit his grandfather in the early 1900's. I can't really imagine any of that, either. When he was born there were no commercial airplane flights and a short 58 years later (and 3 days after my birth) a man walked on the Moon. He saw both the rise and fall of the Soviet Union but missed the last Cubs World Series win by only 3 years. During his life there have been 17 presidents, from Taft to "W" and I dare say dad made some trouble for a few of them and they deserved it, too.
During the past few years of his life, his eyesight and hearing were in pretty bad shape, so much so that he could follow almost nothing on TV. As a result he was limited to C-Span, CNN and baseball games. Victor was such a principled and caring man and it's a real shame that aside from the midterm elections of 2006, recent years held little succor for a man of his politics and temperament. Despite huge gains in said election, the senate continues to be soft and tame under the flaccid "leadership" of Harry Reid and the lunatic, often racist ramblings of Lou Dobbs on CNN drove him batty. Even the Mets failed him this year, performing the worst collapse in baseball history.
He was ready to go, I think. None of us were ready for him to leave, of course, but you never are, really. I never got to show my dad my "chops," professionally, at least not in full. He was many things, but a man of the Information Age was not one of them. 11 years ago he published his memoirs and wrote them out longhand, on a yellow legal pad. This was not a man to whom it was easy to explain blogs or even indieWIRE, really. He was concerned about my ability to take care of myself financially, of course but I think he was most concerned and eventually pleased and proud, that I, along with my brother and sister, had grown up as a "good person." I like to think I have a good moral compass, positive personal values and goals and a healthy and appropriately concerned outlook on the world. It's to his and my mother's credit that they really never gave me anything to rebel against and as a result, the apple couldn't have fallen closer to the tree.
He was and remains, my hero. I miss him, greatly.
Here are a few obituaries that have been running over the past few days:
New York Times
International Herald Tribune
East Hampton Star
Time Magazine
Marjorie Cohn: The Huffington Post
Photo, L to R: Victor Rabinowitz, Dr. Benjamin Spock and Leonard Boudin © The Associated Press
My good pals Tom Hall and Matt Dentler each tagged me for this meme and while like Tom, I rarely post personal things on my blog, I agree with him that sometimes a little "meet the blogger" action is called for and so, to wit:
Rules:
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged write their own blog post about their eight things and include these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged and that they should read your blog.
So, here we go:
1. When I was a tiny tot, maybe even pre-natally, I was dragged around the world by my parents and as a result I have developed incurable wanderlust. To date I have been to about 20 countries on four continents and am constantly looking for the next place to go. I've visited Communist Prague in 1974 (it's changed a bit) and Havana in 1983 and 1999, swam with penguins and fur seals in the Galapagos and Portuguese Men of War in Portugal (duh). I've driven across the US four times and this is a magnificently beautiful country. Where to, next?
Ok, so I have finally gotten around to switching from Buzznet (they are so '05) to Flickr and am in the process of posting pix, some with witty bon mots, even! So far, it starts at the indieWIRE anniversary party in late November 2006 up to Berlin, 2007. Keep checking back, as by the end of next week I hope to have a few years worth of pix loaded, most of which have never been in this blog before and many of which include you. Yes, you!
So come on by and check them out and comment, comment, comment!
Even better, join Flickr, put your own pix up and be my friend!
Thanks.
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