Introspective musings from last night and my dvar

Last night I delivered a talk to my synagogue, what we call a dvar Torah for the annual Trans Day of Remembrance. It’s all rather new for me, as I spent a lifetime avoiding public speaking, a result of a childhood traumatic experience. I chuckle that now at 75, I’m finally confronting that fear head on.

So, the sanctuary was filled, and my moment came. I tied the remembrance of Avraham (Abraham) and Sara to our own remembrance of trans lives lost to murder, and the terrible toll it takes on the rest of us, ending with an excerpt of a spoken word piece I’d written several years ago after the murder of two trans women in Washington DC.

What followed was something I was totally unprepared for. Accolades from the members of my community, including the Zoom Makom Minyan. Am I ever so grateful for that moment. My emotions were all over the place, for this was foreign territory for me. I’m just not accustomed to praise, I guess. It was a moment that was satisfying, for continuing to overcome that lifelong fear, but also a community that demonstrated loving support in a spectacular way. After, I got to speak with Kochava for a few minutes, and then to the bubbe (Grandmother) of the Bat Mitzvah girl for this week. She was a poet and I wanted to talk more, but my transit driver arrived, and I had to leave. ::chuckling:: Anyone who knows me knows I like to schmooze. That was my one regret for the evening, having to leave so soon.

So in this moment of introspection, I am filled with gratitude. My Shir Tikvah congregation is teaching me in profound ways. At this old age, to be conquering a childhood trauma is spectacular. I am grateful to Rabbi Joey who asked me if I would deliver this Dvar, and his support as I put it all together. I’m grateful to Rabbi Arielle for her kind words and a voice like an angel. To Dan Nadel whose music I have appreciated for a long time and how wonderful to be seated by him as he worked his magic. Thank you Shir Tikvah who have shown chesed (loving kindness) in so many ways. I feel such love for you all!

Shavua tov!

Time to Choose: Democracy or Fascism

It saddens me to see what is happening in America today. Okay as a teenager, I helped a guy out on his farm once building fences. His son brought me to his bedroom, pulled out a box, showing all sorts of Nazi paraphernalia. A bit disgusting, but no great alarm. I as a progressive had no illusions of jack-booted marchers coming down the streets tearing up shops, burning synagogues, taking people to concentration camps. No, just one deluded soul enamored by a society that had brought so much mayhem.

Now though, there is ample cause for concern. For the record, I’m Jewish, transgender, lesbian. The embrace of fascism (or Christian Nationalism, Nazism was a Christian Nationalist state lest we forget) by a major political party is on display for all to see. Conspiracy theories abound, antisemitism confronts us at every turn, transphobia, homophobia, and misogyny are being written into law in state after state. There was the attack on our capitol on January 6. 4 years ago, we saw the worse antisemitic attack in American history at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburg. Antisemitism is increasing at every turn on the right, but tragically increasingly on the left as well. A few years ago, trans murders were in the low 20’s, but last year and this, they have doubled. Just last night someone broke into Nancy Pelosi’s house looking for her and attacking her husband. Democratic lawmakers increasingly are getting death threats.

I heard today that the Department of Justice has issued an alert fearing possible violence at the polls. How do I feel about all that’s going on?

I’M ANGRY AS HELL ABOUT IT. Around the world, democracies are in peril. I look at folks like Putin, and their embrace of fascism and the number of people in America, Republicans, who increasingly look to him as their ideal. Our former president who virtually salivated in the presence of the likes of a Putin or Kim Jong Un. These extremists in America have their own news sources, and with the new owner of Twitter, an outlet for their propaganda.

I know this. If you are a refugee, a black or brown person, a Jew, a Muslim, a member of the LGBTQ plus community, a woman (unless you are one of the good ones who is subservient and obedient), then fascists will use you as a scapegoat. That is how they get and hold power. The more power they get, the more they will attack.

I mentioned I’m Jewish. I’ve studied the history around the holocaust. More importantly, I’ve talked to people who survived, either by getting out in time, or enduring the horrors of those dark days. They tell me that it feels now, very similar to what it felt like in the months and years leading up to the Shoah. I believe them.

So, it is my prayer, that we do what we can. This election means EVERYTHING! I believe deeply our very democracy is at stake. I have already voted, and I hope every thinking man and woman does the same. I’ve spent seventy-five years living in a democracy. Please do not let it end now. We must not fear, but we must prevail. Jessica Wicks 10-29-22

Memories: A Gift to Heart

Memories. As I age, they become such an important piece of my life. A scent, a photo, a turn of a phrase can take me back in unexpected ways. Perhaps a smile, even a giggle, a tear, any, or all. The other day, my wife was mumbling to herself. Immediately I am sitting in the living room in the early 90’s and my partner Skip is having a conversation with himself. I ask him if he’s talking to himself and he shoots right back saying, “Only intelligent conversation I can too often have.” We both laugh out loud.

I love the mountains, always have. When I was younger, I would travel, sometimes with my daughter, often with cousins, or sometimes alone. We would hike on mountain trails, communing with nature, and from their peaks look out on the magnificent view down below. We might travel to the Rockies, perhaps the Ozark or Ouachita Mountains, always an amazing two weeks to recharge and interact with the natural world.

The photo above was a mountain stream near Petit Jean State Park in Arkansas. My daughter put on her bathing suit and let the cold mountain water wash over her. I love her and miss her so. Like much of my family, my transness was simply too much. But I will always love her… and… I have the memories. Even as I type this, a smile, and a tear.

So here I sit, old and disabled, but always the possibility of those journeys into the past, a smile and a tear. Outside the leaves have turned yellow and a brilliant red for Autumn is upon us. With that, memories as well. They are a true gift, filling my heart with what has past, lest the void in my present take full hold. There are no more mountains, no more strolls or rigorous climbs to experience the fullness of HaShem’s creation. I do what I can do, volunteer work, my writing (memories again), occasional D’var Torah with my synagogue. Brightened along the way with another moment in time engraved firmly within this heart. I do not wish for youth, but mobility, perhaps some. But I do have love, friends, and the blessing experience formed as memory. Jessica Wicks 10-28-2022

Disability and Steep Stairs

So, it’s been a while since my last posting here. December of 2000. Pain made it too difficult to write. Finally at long last, a purchase of a lap desk made all the difference. I’m writing again!

Since I last posted here, I realized I must surrender my license. Immobility made it unsafe for me to drive anymore. I deeply miss that ability to simply make my way down steep stairs, using one wheelchair to let the other down to the sidewalk, take apart the wheelchair so I can fit it in the trunk, using a strong-arm cane to keep my balance, then hopping into the car and going where I want to go. Hmmm… well maybe not so simply.

I had considered a move, but between current inflation and economic uncertainty, it seems to be a bit risky right now. I think in my heart this kind of thing is not uncommon among the elderly. I have no family nearby, and while I crave that human interaction that was such a part of my life for so long, I am relegated to hours, days, weeks of alone time. Oh, my wife and I talk some, but she is not a talker and where I despise alone time, she loves it! Don’t get me wrong! I deeply love her and honor her need for that alone time. But for me, it’s difficult. I do have a caretaker who comes in two hours a week. For the first hour she does chores. The second hour is relegated to conversation.

I may not be the only one who experiences loneliness. I suspect there are many more. There are many younger people I know. But they lead their busy lives, too busy to bother with a 75-year-old crone.

But… I will not simply sit here and cry in my iced tea. I try to stay busy. I’m active on my synagogue’s caring committee, making sure our volunteers send out cards for Shivas and health issues and such. I’m also doing training to lead Shivas on Zoom for those who desire it. I on occasion make the journey to my shul to deliver a Dvar Torah (a sermon). Mostly I attend now online. I’m presently writing a full Dvar for each week’s Torah Portion, posted in a different blog. I just wrote a Dvar for the Shabbat nearest Trans Day of Remembrance which I’m looking forward to delivering to my congregation on the 18th of November. I do my obligatory housework and spend time reading as well. Also, I am doing Daf Yomi, studying a page a day of Talmud. I’m presently in volume 18.

Loneliness is difficult, and it wears on you over time. But staying busy helps. May my remaining years be productive ones and may we all help to make our world a little bit better. I know this post was a bit of a downer, but they won’t always be that way. Truth involves both the ups and the downs.

One final thought. Imagine a world where we each, myself included, would reach out to somehow make another life a bit better. Radical no doubt, but it is how we begin to heal the world. Many blessings.

Jessica