| | The view from here
I wonder what it’s like to be really rich. Really, really rich.
Wealthy. Having a home in Hawaii and Napa and San Francisco, the latter
of which has a view of the Bay and Marin and Alcatraz. To drive a
Mercedes, to collect art from around the world, to have a Deborah Butterfield sculpture placed in the courtyard garden behind your home courtesy of a construction crane.
I imagine I'm one of millions of non-rich people who wonder what it
would be like to have more money than ways to spend it. Therefore, do
rich people ever wonder what it’s like to not have all that money? To
not be always comfortable, and warm, and able to do anything they want
to do because they can throw greenbacks in the face of most of their
problems?
I ask because I spend Friday morning in the home of a
very, very rich couple (who fits the description in the first
paragraph). I went there to interview a woman who next month will be
presented with an award for volunteerism. I think it should actually be
called the "thanks for donating" award. So I walk into her home, and
saw this:
This is the view from her family room window. Alcatraz is the island in
the center, and behind that is Marin. Their house was actually quite
comfortable for being so grand, not at all like the house I went to
last month, which, um, was located across the street from Sen. Barbara
Boxer's house. That house was so showy and weird and traditional and I
was afraid to sneeze. It was massive.
I've never been poor. I've always had food, nice clothes, a warm bed,
the ability to buy stuff I think I need but don't really. Still, I've
never known what it's like to have a lifestyle saturated with money.
When I go into a home just bursting at the seams with wealth, I can't
help but be in awe.
The woman had an errand near my office, so she drove me back to work.
In a sporty Mercedes convertible. A bum sat on the corner where I was
dropped off. And that's San Francisco. The ultra rich and the dirt
poor, sharing space in this 7-by-7-square-mile city.
Sometimes I just want to spend an evening lost in my head, reading a
book, lounging around in my underwear in my bedroom. That's what I
wanted to do last night. Except I had to work. Finding time to be alone
other than when you're sleeping is perhaps the biggest challenge of
living in a vibrant city with 3 roommates who you enjoy being with.
I grudgingly got on the bus to go to Bruno's, to cover a panel
discussion and concert. My editors would expect a story, and the
event's planners knew I would be there, so flaking wasn't an option.
When I arrived, my friend Isaac was there, who I adore, and my bad
attitude evaporated.
Just in time, too, because the panel discussion was incredible. It was
about the intersection of art, culture, consciousness, music, hip hop
and Judaism. The most interesting panelist was a man named Y-Love,
who's black, from Baltimore, and at the age of 22 moved to Israel,
studied at Yeshiva, became ultra-orthodox, and then moved to Brooklyn.
In general, I think Jewish converts are fascinating, because they chose
what I was simply given, but this guy was exceptional. You look at him,
and you see the typical Hasidic Jew -- a black suit, white collared
shirt, scraggly beard, tsit-tsit hanging down from underneath his
shirt, peyos dangling from underneath his hat (in which probably a
kippah rested underneath). But he's black, and talks with black
vernacular, and knows how to rap. In fact, he told me afterward, he
fell in love with hip hop when he was at yeshiva in Israel. He and his
friend used freestyle and rap as a way to learn Torah and Talmud. He
also told me that his Judaism, blackness and hop hop are "the braided
challah in my life." Definitely using that quote.
So I stayed for his set. Odd, but fun. He raps in English, Hebrew and Yiddish.
I also gave some serious thought yesterday to whether or not I want to
date non-Jews. It's a long story how this thought invaded my brain
yesterday.... But it started when I went on Date No. 2 with a
craigslister (not Jewish). And I got to thinking. I'm almost 26. At
this point, anyone I date is a potential life-long partner. Is it worth
getting involved with someone who's not Jewish, if that is a
requirement for my future mate? Is it a deal-breaker? I used to think
it was narrow-minded to say that I'd only date or marry a Jew, but I'm
starting to have a change of heart... I mean, is it narrow-minded to
say that I want to be with someone who loves books as much as I do?
Someone who cares about the news, the world around us? No, it's simply
knowing myself, and knowing that I need to be with someone who can
engage me in a conversation of things that matter, to us both. And
Judaism matters to me. I'm realizing I do want to end up
with someone Jewish, who can share with me all the values and memories
derived from this faith and culture. It's hard for me to admit, since
it eliminates a huge number of people in the world. But maybe that's
just the way it is.
|
| | Posted 2/25/2007 9:41 AM - 18 Views - 0 eProps - 0 comments
- recommend
  - recs0
- share
- email
 - sent0
|
