Yesterday, I was rushing to get to the first session I wanted to go to, Arthur Kurtzweil on Jewish Geneology. But I was running around in the rain, and I couldn't find the building, and I gave up.
(It is a little known fact that I am doing my family tree.. I regard it as a lifelong project, and the last couple of years I didn't do so much. Five years ago, I was visiting my Great Uncle Woolfie (may his name be for a blessing) in Tel Aviv, and he had some documents... my great grandparents ketuba (marriage certificate) that I wanted to copy. He wasn't letting them out of his appartment. Eventually, I left him my passport, and went down to the corner store to get a copy. I couldn't believe that I was holding hundred year old documents in my hands. The guy in the store looks at the document, and says "Vaslui, I'm from Vaslui." I was bowled over, so many questions. "What's it like?" I ask. His reply: "It's not big, and it's not small." But I digress.)
After supper, we went to the opening gala, and out of 1400 people, who am I sitting next to? Arthur. That's what my Mum would definitely call beshert. (Hi, Mum, consider this a postcard). We chatted - geneology, Jewish stuff, life in general - and I got up at 8am to get to his session on Adin Steinsaltz's Thirteen Petalled Rose.
Wow, I'm kinda mindblown and still processing it.
(And this bit is just a braindump of references I want to check later: Andy Warhol/The Kiss (movie), Abbie Hoffma/Soon to Be A Major Motion Picture, Steinsaltz/The Candle of G!d/Ben Zoma's who is rich definition/gam zu letova. Because as we all know, a blog is just as much my outboard brain as it is for you to read.)
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