My World is a meme played by people all over the planet. For more information and to see other places and wonders, visit My World.
I took a trip down to the Native Plant Reserve in Highland Park last week. And when I say “down”, one does go down: Highland Park is on a little hill, and the Native Plant Reserve is down by the Raritan River. It looks bare now, but in the spring many new buds will open up.
In the spring I’ll come back and photograph the little signs and their accompanying plants.
This tree looks proud. The little sign below says it is a white oak.
More about the Native Plant Reserve.
I read a review on VosIzNeias and one on the Jerusalem Post (ht: Seraphic Secret) for a new film for women called “A Light for Greytowers”. It fascinated me: a girl is separated from her parents and sent to an orphanage where a cruel matron does not want her to keep her religion.
Just my luck (or was it hashgacha pratis, Divine Providence), I got to see the movie last night. It screened at a local synagogue, Congregation Ohav Emeth in Highland Park, to a full room of women and teenage girls. It turned out the movie was not just a Jane Eyre story re-created in Jewish form. It was also a musical, and a funny one at that! Some said it reminded them of Annie. I thought of Oliver Twist and “food, glorious, food.” Another friend said it evoked “The Little Princess”, Jewish style.
Here’s the plot as described on the Kol Neshama website:
This thrilling musical adventure follows Miriam Aronowitch from Czarist Russia to Victorian England where she and her mother, Anya, have taken refuge from the Cossack pogroms. When Anya becomes critically ill, however, twelve-year-old Miriam finds herself abandoned in an English orphanage — appropriately named Greytowers — and at the mercy of its cruel matron, Miss Agatha Grimshaw. Only the strength of her faith, imbued in her by her beloved mother, enables her to withstand the torments and bleakness of Greytowers and to rekindle the light of Judaism in the hearts of her young companions.
Some of my favorite scenes included one where the young orphan girls are being taught by a previous, kindlier matron on how to make brachos (blessings) on their food. Another, earlier in the film, depicts two silly sisters (who look like the aunts from James and the Giant Peach) singing to the girls about nutrition. The whole movie is a parody of many English stories, such as the scene where a captain’s wife comes to visit and sings of her loneliness. The woman who plays the cruel matron is a funny and fabulous actress.
And the movie has a happy ending, too!
I do have to say, however, that the emphasis on “gam zu letova”, this too is for the good, did get to me a bit. If one is using the film as a teaching tool, there really is no room for explaining the unhappy endings, which, unfortunately, do happen too often in life, especially in Jewish history.
A while back I wrote about a rally in Highland Park in front of the Ten Thousand Villages store.
One of my friends, Harry Glazer, was one of the organizers of that rally. He wrote the following letter to the Highland Park Mirror (a local newspaper), explaining the nature of the rally (and graciously agreed to my posting the letter on my blog):
As one of the organizers of the rally held in front of the Ten Thousand Villages store in September, I hope to clarify.
The Mennonite Central Committee has hosted [Iranian President Ahmadinejad] for dinner not once, not twice, but three times as of his September visit. His pronouncements and actions have only become more menacing in the years since he’s hobnobbed with the Mennonite Central Committee and other like-minded peace groups.
And if the purpose of dining with an enemy is not influence their views or acts, then how does a faith community justify showing respect to someone who espouses such blatant religious hatred?
Our protest was held in front of the Ten Thousand Villages store in recognition of the fact that the store sends a significant portion of their profits to their parent organization, the Mennonite Central Committee. So in a very real sense, a purchase at Ten Thousand Villages supports the Mennonite Central Committee’s legitimization of Ahmadinejad, as well as other activities by the group that demonstrate a complete lack of balance with regards to the Israeli/Palestinian conflict.
I have no problem with the fact that Ten Thousand Villages sells goods made in Palestinian areas or that the Mennonites send humanitarian aid to those areas. I do take issue with the attitude of the Mennonites that the conflict is mostly Israel’s fault.
I can say, as well, that it pains me to have to oppose Ten Thousand Villages, since I respect and value ideals of the store – to sell handcrafted goods that are manufactured by workers in underprivileged areas across the globe, thereby providing income to those struggling to support themselves and their famillies. This is a noble mission and, sadly, few other avenues exist to support these artisans in the same honorable fashion.
With sorrow, though, I recognize that I cannot shop at Ten Thousand Villages because some of the money spent there goes to defame a struggling democracy, Israel, which is regularly besieged by enemies with no regard for civilized rules of conflict. Worse yet, the funds spent at Ten Thousand Villages also contribute to efforts to honor a mortal enemy of my friends and relatives, an enemy currently seeking nuclear arms to make good on his word.
A cause may seem noble on the surface, but sometimes when you find out more on how the money is spent, one gets more cautious about giving.
As a continuation to the My World post on Raritan Avenue, this week I’m featuring a Sky Watch on Raritan Ave. Above is a glimpse up South Third Ave in the center of Highland Park.
A street scene between Fourth and Fifth Avenues, one can see a Bradford pear tree with its red fall foliage (now gone and bare).
Here’s an ambulance from Woodbridge zooming along past my favorite toy store, Over the Moon Toys. We are fortunate that two excellent hospitals, Robert Wood Johnson and St. Peter’s, are just over the bridge from us in New Brunswick.
While standing in front of the supermarket on Raritan Avenue a few days ago, my daughter and I were privileged to view this sunset.
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My World is a meme played by people all over the planet. For more information and to see other places and wonders, visit My World.
Raritan Avenue is the main street that runs through our little borough of Highland Park, New Jersey. It is a state highway, Route 27, so its name changes when it crosses the bridge over the Raritan River into the larger city of New Brunswick.
One of the nice features of Highland Park is that it is a walkable town. When my son was a toddler (he’s now 14), we used to walk to Raritan Avenue to see the trucks. The above photo was taken on Veteran’s Day; that’s why there are lots of American flags on display.
At one end of Raritan Avenue are some auto businesses. Some of the leaders in Highland Park would like to see these businesses go elsewhere (to Woodbridge Avenue), so that retail shops can be opened here. It is a subject of controversy.
Construction and fixing of something or another is a common sight.
There’s an Available sign in this now closed Corner Confectionery shop. Businesses come and go; too many of these For Lease signs.
See my favorite toy store on Raritan Avenue
View the Memorial Day Parade down Raritan Avenue
Excluding the first photo with the red and yellow trees and the hanging shoe, the five sunset shots were taken within minutes of each other. I decided to use the Word Press photo gallery to set up this post. Unfortunately, you have to click twice to get the larger image, and then you have to use the back button to get back to the main post. Maybe Word Press 2.7 will improve this tool?
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American flags were flying high today in honor of Veterans Day on Raritan Avenue, the main street (also known as Route 27) that runs through the center of Highland Park.
It’s been a beautiful autumn here in Central New Jersey. The color is everywhere; I think the weather has been cooler and damper than previous autumns, and the trees are loving it.
These top two photos were both taken on my block. The one with the window is directly across the street, and the other, with the reds to each side and yellow in center, is looking down the block.
These last two photos were taken outside my kids’ school, which is in Edison, New Jersey, just over the border from Highland Park.
How does it look where you live?
More links to beautiful autumn photos on Carmi’s Thematic Photographic: Autumn post
I really wanted to get a photo of Donaldson Park from up high. It is a big county park on the edge of Highland Park, and the Raritan River flows right next to the park. I couldn’t get the whole park, but I got a nice tip of it in this photo. It’s on the right of that white streak in the river.
In order to get this photo, however, I had to park my car on a side street near this busy highway, Route 1, which runs from Maine to Florida (I think). The bridge goes bump, bump, bump as all the cars go over it. I don’t think I’ll be venturing out like this again. I got too nervous from all the cars and bumps.
On my way back to my car, I photographed these pretty fall oak leaves.
More on Donaldson Park
This is part of a new meme called My World (brought to you by the Sky Watch Friday folks).
First, Esser Agaroth did a great Elections Edition Haveil Havalim.
Now for our featured attraction, a beautiful article written by a Highland Park teen:
Seven years ago my mother decided it was high time we children had a dacha, a summer cottage, just like she did in Ukraine…And so we found a private bungalow in the Catskill Mountains — just around the corner from the lake and crowded Russian colonies, giving us both a social life and some relative privacy. The rather spacious two-bedroom cottage, which we would return to every year, with a large kitchen and lovely deck to the side, at first seemed small, compared to the suburban proportions we were used to.
And it wasn’t just the bungalow that was strange; at first we felt like we were dropped onto an alien planet. We had seen these loud babushkas and their Gucci-parading daughters on trips to Brighton Beach, but never in such large doses. Mornings, we were awakened by the eccentric Russian sculptor’s rooster crowing from across the street. Evenings were spent gossiping over tea and sunflower seeds and listening to the latest imported pop from Moscow.
Read the whole thing, on her mom’s blog or in the Jewish Week.
