Lehigh Valley Columnists

Lehigh Valley Source Columns

Welcome to the Lehigh Valley Source Columns Page! More columns are in the works, and you'll find them all here...

Welcome to the Lehigh Valley Source Columns Page! More columns are in the works, and you'll find them all here...

For Pets’ Sake: Himalayan Kitten Entertains Day Spa Clients

By DALYNN BOYER

Special to Lehigh Valley Source

 

In my quest to learn more about cats, I have been doing a lot of research by reading books, attending seminars, and searching the Web. In addition to my fascination with cats, I am becoming more and more fascinated by the people--women and men--who love them. 

 

People are passionate about their cats, and I now understand why. Since bringing Penny--our Himalayan kitten--home, we have fallen deeply in love with her, and she entertains us daily. Penny goes to work with me every day to the business that I co-own, Spoil ’Em Rotten Pet Boutique and Grooming Spa in West Reading.

 

The boutique is located next to an upscale day spa, and each day someone from the day spa comes into the boutique to ask if Penny can have a play date at the spa. Penny is so popular that women visit the boutique with hair color in their hair, wearing the classic plastic capes around their necks. Or Penny’s fan club visits after their pedicures with tubes of cotton still zigzagged between their toes.

 

We also sell Persian kittens at the boutique, and the same number of men as women come in to see the kittens. I’m unsure of the reason. Maybe it’s because, although cats have been domesticated for thousands of years, they still retain some of their wild ways. They love to climb and pounce, and they remain independent thinkers. They are social animals, but only on their terms. To be graced by a cat curling up on your lap for some snuggle time is a true blessing.

 

Dalynn A. Boyer is co-owner of Spoil ’Em Rotten Pet Boutique, Grooming Spa, and Wellness Center, 402 Penn Ave., West Reading, Pa. She breeds and shows Yorkshire terriers and specializes in grooming small dogs and cats.

 

 

A Himalayan cat
Photo by arebella/MorgueFile

Greetings from Israel: Seasonal Crisis at the Temple Mount

By BARRY STEINBERG
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

The issue of the Temple Mount often reaches its annual climax at the period in which Jews celebrate the reception of the Law in Sinai [Feast of the Tabernacles]. Many devout Jews flock to the base of the Western Wall, which King Herod mended and constructed some 2,000 years ago. During this period, Israel's Palestinian Moslem neighbors have found a sure-fire issue to energize the masses by insisting that Israel has a plan for reconstructing the famed temple that was destroyed by the Romans on the premises of the Temple Mount, where the two seventh century mosques--The Dome of the Rock and al-Aqsa--are located.

Aside from the fiery rhetoric that galvanizes support for these allegations, there is an insistence that archaeological excavations that occur in the proximity of the Temple Mount are intended to weaken the foundations of the mosques, which we might believe will either come crashing down like the walls of Jericho or crumble in the event of a much anticipated earthquake. For much of the Islamic establishment, the Jewish propensity for digging has little to do with discovering a past, but only the Jewish past. Such a past, they divine, is intended to undermine literally and politically their contention that the establishment of the mosques on the Temple Mount (“The Noble Sanctuary” in translated Arabic) occurred without any reference to that Jewish past, but only as a probable site where the Prophet Mohammad ascended for a summit into the heavens. In fact, they frequently repeat their assertion that the Temple Mount is not the location of the Jew's destroyed Temple, but add no information for where in fact the Temple may be hidden.

Historically, it appears that when the Caliph Umar ibn al-Khattāb entered Jerusalem after the Byzantine defeat, he inquired where the Temple Mount was located and proceeded to construct a mosque on that site. There were a number of indications that the site was, indeed, that of the celebrated temple. Jews residing in Byzantine Jerusalem continued to pray at the site, which the local powers treated with such utter contempt that it was used as the municipal refuse heap. Now if it was not the location of the esteemed temple, why would Jews pray at a mound of rubbish, or why would so much attention be lavished by the municipality on the then-highest hill in Jerusalem if it was of such nugatory concern?

The Caliph Umar ordered that the site be cleansed and purified, and the tradition, perhaps shared by others, that the Dome of the Rock mosque encloses a large rock embedded in the ground that is regarded as the foundation stone of our planet's existence.

Having said all this, I still wondered, history and tradition aside, why many Palestinians are insistent that Israel feels a compulsion to reconstruct this temple on the site of their mosques. Although Israeli actions in the occupied territories enforces suspicions regarding her intentions about the future of those territories and especially that of Jerusalem,  most Israelis and the elected governments that represent them still believe that freedom of religion and Israel's guarantee that such freedoms prevail conform with  the state's democratic values while enhancing Israel's global interests. Despite the efforts of Israel's leadership referring to Jerusalem as her united and undivided capital or efforts to populate the Palestinian side of town with Jewish neighborhoods, which can either be undone or integrated, Israel has no interest or cannot expatiate supplanting the mosques for any symbol of Jewish sovereignty, including the Israeli flag shadowing the courtyard of the Temple Mount.

Moslems should know that the function of the temple in antiquity could never be restored. Reasons are numerous. The historic Judaism of the Second Jewish Commonwealth that was practiced in antiquity has been left for scholars to investigate. When Jerusalem was besieged by Rome, the temple--the national symbol from which the embracing religious life of ancient Israel revolved--also became the final sanctuary of Jewish sovereignty. A few prescient rabbis with enough foresight concluded that the faith would have to undergo extensive reform. These major transformations would replace the reliance on well-worn traditions that were rooted in the local agricultural calendar with the temple serving as its nexus. As such, Judaism became a portable religion, exempt in many ways from the lands which Jews would subsequently inhabit in their historic exile.

It is true that there is an ultra-nationalist minority of Jews that are eager to restore Jewish sovereignty on the Temple Mount, but Israeli society regards them as extremists. Their value as provocateurs is exploited by Palestinians as proof of Israel's insidious intentions, even as the police have prevented them from reaching the Temple Mount to pray and practice their incendiary politics.

So aggrieved were the Moslem dignitaries the other day that their faithful were summoned to defend the mosques from the "temple faithful," resulting in a hail of stones and a few sundry Molotov cocktails. The police reacted with rubber bullets and batons. In the end, it was reported in the Israeli media that French Christian tourists were the target of the mosques' stoutest defenders, while this information was simply omitted in Palestinian communiqués in Arabic without elaborating about who was assaulted and by whom.

There were other circumstances that belied the necessity for clashes. Hamas, it was suggested, was eager to embarrass the Palestinian Authority (PA), especially after the PA had helped in postponing discussions on the UN Goldstone report that investigated, rather unfavorably, Israel's war-time practices in Gaza. By "shaming" the PA into sponsoring general allegations against Israel at the Temple Mount, Ramallah could deflect the imputations of Hamas for its alleged collaborations with Israel.

Sheikh Ra'ad Salah, a prominent leader of Israel's northern Islamic Movement always hits his stride impugning Israel and her machinations regarding the future of the Temple Mount. A powerful speaker, his main goal appears to be to generally inflame his audience by inciting them with unsubstantiated information. Rumor has it that he must either have well-placed sources in government, perhaps while preparing coffee for the kitchen cabinet sessions or sharing a truncated Byzantine column head for coffee with a colleague at the Department of Antiquities. I tend to believe that the levels of incitement are such that the Sheikh believes his own calumnies. Further reflecting on it, I believe that he believes that if he were his own Jewish adversary, he, too, would be promoting the reconstruction of the temple on the Temple Mount.

For most Jews, these allegations are morbid and libelous fantasies. Most noted rabbinical scholars, such as the elder Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv--at 99, widely considered the most influential Torah sage of his generation--forbid Jews from even touring the Temple Mount because it is believed that they may tread and desecrate the spot where the Holy of Holies was located. (The Holy of Holies is the innermost sanctuary that housed the laws divinely given to Moses.) Since no one knows exactly where the sanctuary would have been located, it is best to prevent its violation.

Finally, it should be noted that the Islamic Endowment conducted its own renovations somewhere beneath the al-Aqsa Mosque. External monitoring apparently was forbidden, and many Israeli archaeologists voiced their concern that invaluable artifacts unearthed in the renovations were neither treated with dignity nor care and were simply discarded. For more information regarding the disposed rubble, Israeli archaeologists visited the locations where the rubble was dumped. There they pieced together whatever information they could, based on the imperfect and damaged items that were discarded.

Just as I believe that the Islamic authorities are suspicious that finds from Jewish antiquity might undermine the political validity of the mosques, in Israel there is a belief that the renovation work, apparently undertaken without any external monitoring, was also intended to remove or destroy any evidence of the Temple Mount's pre-Islamic Jewish past.

Born in the United States, Barry Steinberg relocated to Israel in 1969. He lives and works as a farmer in Eilon, a kibbutz in northern Israel. His parents and brothers live in Bethlehem, Pa. His wife, Debby, is from Plainfield, N.J.

M’s Eclectic Reviews (CD review): Actress-Turned-Singer Juliette Lewis Wows With 'Terra Incognita'

By M. DAVID SNYDER
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

“Terra Incognita” (2009)
Juliette Lewis
The End Records

Who knew that quirky character actress Juliette Lewis is also a talented
singer-songwriter? Her vocal styling is that of Courtney Love, Melissa Etheridge, Grace Slick, Janis Joplin, and Cher all rolled into one. Superb!

Some of the music--produced and played by The Mars Volta guitarist Omar Rodriguez Lopez and Lewis’ new band, The New Romantics--at times reminded me of bands such as Portishead, 1980s U2 and Kiss, Goldfrapp, The Dresden Dolls, and Hole. This new album is just amazing melodic trippy punk rock blues fun. Terra Incognita means “territory unknown,” and the disc is just one cool melting pot.

Here’s a rundown of each track:

Track One, “Intro”: Cheesy sounding home-made drivel that blasts hard into . . .

Track Two, “Noche Sin Fin”: Perhaps a nod to Lewis’ previous more punk-oriented band, The Licks, this track is mad rocking!

Track Three, “Terra Incognita”: The track that sold me on the purchase. This hard-rocking pop in the best Hole vein surprisingly reminds of a Kiss song from the 1980s glam period.

Track Four, “Hard Lovin’ Woman”: Lewis channels Janis Joplin on this blues track with sweet guitar work by Chris Watson.

Track Five, “Fantasy Bar”: Quick-paced punker track that rocks in all the right places.

Track Six, “Romeo”: This song starts with a trippy nod reminiscent of Portishead, then moves into a melodic pop-rock feel for the chorus, and then back to that trippy feel. A bit of spoken word is thrown in for good measure.

Track Seven, “Ghosts”: One of two experimental tracks on the disc, it’s downbeat and glum.

Track Eight, “All is for God”: Lewis channels Cher. The lyrics are heavy; essentially, Lewis turns her back on Christianity. Despite its negativity, the track is musically and vocally on the mark.

Track Nine, “Female Persecution”: This is the CD’s other experimental track. Without printed lyrics, the listener can only guess that this head-tripping rant is both feminist and anti-Muslim. The liner notes provide the following statement: “Refer to history both on the record and off and most conventional religious texts, all forms of male dominated governments.” Ugh, can’t wait for the next track.

Track 10, “Uh Huh”: A poppy-fun good time. I could see this as a single. The music is reminiscent of pop-influenced early U2 and Goldfrapp.

Track 11, “Junkyard Heart”: A simple, catchy three-chord track reminiscent of The Dresden Dolls, despite the fact that the band is primarily piano and drums. The song also has a Texas western film vibe.

Track 12, “Suicide Dive Bombers”: Raw, stripped-down, live sounding track. An interesting way to close one hell of an outstanding album for 2009.

M. David Snyder is a multimedia artist in Allentown.

M’s Eclectic Reviews (book review): Graphic Memoir is Harrowing Account of Survival

By M. DAVID SNYDER
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

We Are On Our Own: A Memoir (2006)
By Miriam Katin
Drawn & Quarterly

This graphic memoir is the survival story of a Jewish mother and daughter as they venture one step ahead of the Nazi soldiers from Budapest to Russia and back again during World War II. It’s not as stark and emotional as Art Spiegelman’s “Maus” or Marjane Sartrapi’s “Persepolis,” but it is a quick moving read.

The art is rough pencil style with occasional color thrown in for dramatic effect or to highlight the grown daughter’s present-day rosy reflection to the thorns of her past.

The 11 panels that open the book begin with an extreme close up of a Hebrew letter and end with an extreme close up of a swastika. Employing great foreshadowing for a harrowing account of survival, Katin writes: “And God said, 'Let there be light.' And there was light and it was Good.  . . . And God Divided the light from the darkness. In the beginning, God created the dark, then the light, then Mother and me and then the others. And it was good. And then one day, God replaced the light with Darkness.”

It is interesting to read a story from an innocent perspective. The daughter can’t seem to figure out why her mother cries during certain situations. For example, when a Nazi officer offers a box of chocolates to the daughter while having his way with her mother, the daughter appears to see this animal only as a “nice man.”

They travel around as “nobodies,” having burnt their possessions, disguising themselves as a gypsy servant with a bastard child. They tell their servant to lie for them if anyone asks. The lie is feigned suicide.

Heartbreaking moments in the story include the child’s interaction with a few canines and the attitudes of many of the people they encounter. The blurb on the book jacket refers to the author’s lifelong struggle with faith because of this experience. But atheism is only hinted at. It could have been more engaging if the topic been explored further in the color segments.

The book is recommended for anyone interested in World War II or the Jewish struggle.

M. David Snyder is a multimedia artist in Allentown.

Greetings from Israel: Remembering Punker, Author Jim Carroll as a Teen

By BARRY STEINBERG
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

I knew Jim Carroll during the period when he and I were teenagers who occasioned the St. Mark’s Poetry Project in 1967-1969. By the time he passed away, Carroll was somewhat of a celebrity. Excerpts of his Basketball Diary--later popularized in film--appeared in early editions of The World, the monthly poetry magazine that the Project published.

My best memory of Carroll was during a lengthy and exceptionally boring poetry reading that occurred inside the chapel of St. Marks Church in the Bowery. I was sitting in the pew with Carter Ratcliff, as Piero Heliczer continued to intone his verse, oblivious to the growing restlessness of his audience. Heliczer was associated with the coterie of writers, artists, and actors that orbited about Andy Warhol.

During his lengthy recitation, just as Ratcliff and I thought that his reading was winding down, he employed a smoke machine that further facilitated the obscurity of his works, if not our own view of the poet at the lectern. While all this was happening, Ratcliff and I were in titters, bowing our heads with the greatest reverence beneath the level of the pews, smothering our guffaws, so as not to call attention to ourselves. Each time we thought that the poet had signaled his denouement, he would restart with something else that would throw us into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

Then, without warning, as the chapel had already filled with bellowing smoke from Heliczer’s machine, the doors rattled and firemen suddenly burst into the nave, shouting to each other while dragging a long fire hose from the street in search of fire. As they proceeded down the aisle, it finally became clear to them that there was no fire, just an artsy gathering of people that sat redemptive and quiescent in a church full of artificial smoke, with an obfuscating figure rambling at the podium.

I don’t know who was more stunned, Heliczer’s captive audience, the befogged firefighters, or Heliczer ascending from oblivion. At first, Ratcliff and I thought that the crashing of the firefighters was part of the show, which would have been a cleverly conceived device for metaphorically relieving us of our crushing boredom and pent up energies, the firefighters as our redeemers or saviors within the ecclesiastical setting. Instead, we later learned that Jim Carroll, sensing the same profound ennui that we were experiencing, had inconspicuously retreated out onto the street and pulled the lever at a nearby fire alarm. Truly a memorable moment!

Born in the United States, Barry Steinberg relocated to Israel in 1969. He lives and works as a farmer in Eilon, a kibbutz in northern Israel. His parents and brothers live in Bethlehem, Pa. His wife, Debby, is from Plainfield, N.J.

Greetings from Israel: Happy New Year!

By Barry Steinberg
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

Happy New Year!

Remembering the manner in which we observed Rosh Hashanah as a kid growing up in Brooklyn, when my mother would fret about my more formal attire and the likelihood that I would come home, all dressed up, all in disarray.

The synagogue was just a five-minute walk from our house on Sutter Avenue. Outside, throngs of people pressed against the gates and the entrance to the synagogue, overwhelmed as it was, that they spilled out onto the street amidst the parked cars and nimbly evaded the passing vehicles. There they clustered capaciously as if the street was meant to handle such zealous crowds. Of course, it was standing room only, and the great religious service led by a sonorous cantor and his resounding interpretation of the liturgy elevated us all, even if I felt small amidst all those looming adults perched in their pews, and even my father, who entered the synagogue at untold intervals to recite the prayer of the bereaved for my grandmother.

It was just another five-minute lope to my favorite vacant lot, where we fantasized Wild West scenarios with Indians and outlaws in the Dakota badlands. At this time of the year,   a weed with a succulent looking fruit or pod of seeds had ripened. Squeezing or slicing the impregnated pod would emit a white, milklike resin ideal for young boys intent on hazarding their mothers’ ire during the holiday period.

After so much wonder at the unusual sight of the synagogue filled to capacity, the women equally intent as they considered their prayer books, peering  at the men below deeply invested in a profound but incomprehensible murmur, interrupted by the piercing lamentations of the cantor, interceding for the flock, as it were, before the ark and the sacred scroll. Boredom, after hours of such intense devotion, made the kids restless and peripatetic. Our only recourse was to explore the interior of the synagogue to its public depths, taking the more interesting aerial view amongst the women hidden away in the balcony, past what would soon be my Hebrew school classroom. An excellent reading from the daily prayer book would merit a gold star on a chart next to the young promising pupil’s name. The rabbi would tally the stars and, as extra incentive, perhaps provide a chocolate bar.

Aside from our peregrinations between the vacant lot, sullied as we were by the sticky white resin of the “milk weed,” the rest of the neighborhood was off-limits. We kept away from the shops attempting to do business without their usual Jewish customers. It was our time to be well-dressed, rather than the usual Sunday ambling of our Catholic friends down Hemlock Street to St. Fortunata. And there were no bells summoning the congregants, but a knell blown from a ram’s horn proclaiming yet another “Happy New Year!”

So our very best to all, whether a gaggle choking the inadequate entrance to a synagogue   or sitting down with family for a peaceful but festive meal!

Born in the United States, Barry Steinberg relocated to Israel in 1969. He lives and works as a farmer in Eilon, a kibbutz in northern Israel. His parents and brothers live in Bethlehem, Pa. His wife, Debby, is from Plainfield, N.J.

My old synagogue in Brooklyn is now a church that serves the African-American community.
Photo by Barry Steinberg

M’s Eclectic Reviews (book review): 'French Milk' Format Interesting, but Book Doesn’t Deliver

By M. DAVID SNYDER
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

French Milk (2007)
By Lucy Knisley
Simon & Schuster

Lucy and her mom go to France for six weeks.
Lucy loves French milk
Lucy loves to smoke.
Lucy loves to eat.
Lucy loves to visit art museums and cemeteries.
Lucy loves to include real photos of her trip interspersed with a drawn diary.

The latter is one of few original and interesting aspects about “French Milk.”

Depression comes through as an underlying theme, just as it does in the memoirs of most artists. Come to think of it, I have never met—let alone read about—a creative type that isn’t suffering to some extent.

Another highlight of the book is the author’s affection for the cartoonist Herge. Herge’s Tin Tin character was a huge influence on me when I read my brother’s comics collection in the mid 1970s. I agree with Knisley’s comment about the cartoonist: “Herge is, in my opinion, one of the all-time comics’ greats.”

Different than what most of us are accustomed to, the unusual format of this book keeps it from being boring. But there is no substance to the book, and it doesn’t deliver on its promise to provide a personal look at a mother-daughter relationship.

M. David Snyder is a multimedia artist in Allentown.

M’s Eclectic Reviews (book review): Parts of Kevin Smith's Diary Self-indulgent; Others Worth Reading

By M. DAVID SNYDER
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

“My Boring-Ass Life: The Uncomfortably Candid Diary of Kevin Smith” (2007)
By Kevin Smith
Titan Books
 
“My Boring-Ass Life: The Uncomfortably Candid Diary of Kevin Smith” is the print version of filmmaker Kevin Smith’s online diary. Parts of the book can be boring to read, such as mundane entries about his online gambling, taking his kid out to eat, waking up and using the bathroom, letting the dogs out to do their business, and constant use of his “I had to tug one out” euphemism for masturbation.
 
It truly makes one wish that someone had taken the editing pen to the diary before releasing it as a book. If the goal was to make the most of the title, the publisher succeeded. Much of the read is self-indulgent.
 
However, there are laugh-out-loud moments, such as Smith’s lousy experience serving jury duty, while dealing with one hell of a bout of hemorrhoids. Because hemorrhoids are common among heavy individuals and I’m a large man myself, I can relate to Smith’s hemorrhoidal suffering. But what happens during the trial is far from average.
 
The book offers intriguing peeks inside the film industry. In one instance, Smith retells his dealing with Chevy Chase about a “Fletch” sequel. He reveals that Chase, apparently an egomaniac, misconstrued the entire conversation as a load of crap. There are great behind-the-scenes entries regarding Smith’s solo acting debut--one can hardly call the Silent Bob character of his earlier films acting--in the Jennifer Garner film “Catch and Release.” (By the way, the latter is a great romantic dramedy worth renting.) It is also interesting to learn about the beginning process of making “Clerks II.”
 
By far the best entries are from the “Me and my Shadow” sections, which detail the downward spiral of Smith’s longtime friend Jason Mewes, who played Jay to his Silent Bob. Mewes’ battle with heroin addiction and road to recovery aren’t pleasant, and Smith discovers that perhaps the best way to avoid enabling is to cut ties completely and let his friend hit rock bottom alone. Powerful stuff for sure.
 
 M. David Snyder is a multimedia artist in Allentown.

M’s Eclectic Reviews (book review): 'GashlyCrumb Tinies' is Like Dr. Seuss Gone Goth

By M. DAVID SNYDER
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

“The GashlyCrumb Tinies: Or, After the Outing” (1963)
By Edward Gorey
Harcourt Brace & Co. 
 
Growing up in the 1980s, I was a huge fan of the opening animation for public   television’s “Mystery!”, which featured weeping woman animation designed by none other than the macabre yet satirical artist/author Edward Gorey (b. 1925).

I happened upon “The GashlyCrumb Tinies” by accident one holiday season, when a woman flew into a tirade about how such an evil book shouldn’t be in the children’s section of any book store. Ironically, it was featured, along with a few other art books and horror fiction, in a section of books chosen by the store’s staff as suggestions for gift giving.
 
“The GashlyCrumb Tinies” is a dark and demented way to learn the alphabet, and is definitely NOT recommended for children. It features a combination of starkly depressing anticipatory drawings with, at times, violent whims, written in a rhythmic style of its own kind. Take, for example, “M is for Maud who was swept out to sea” and “N is for Neville who died of ennui”.

Gorey is the definitive “Dr. Seuss for adults” who enjoy horror fiction. Gorey’s style is very fine pen-and-ink that is reminiscent of early 19th century wood carving art. “The GashlyCrumb Tinies” is an unusual yet classic book for the Goth kid in all of us. Look for it in the humorous section of your local book store. 
 
M. David Snyder is a multimedia artist in Allentown.

M's Eclectic Reviews (DVD review): Give Previously Withheld Film a Chance

By M. DAVID SNYDER
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

“White Dog” (1982)
Directed by Samuel Fuller
Criterion Collection
Rated PG

A little-known anti-racism film that has just been released on DVD, “White Dog” was withheld from theatrical release in America. The plot begins as a young actress (Kristy McNichol) takes in a stray—a large, white German shepherd.

When she is attacked by a white rapist, the dog attacks him. She decides to keep the dog, despite the advice of her boyfriend (Jameson Parker), who warns her that the dog is trained to attack. Eventually the dog attacks an African-American street cleaner and its new owner’s African-American actress friend on a movie set. An African-American man walking down the street eventually meets his demise in a church.

McNichol’s character takes the dog to an animal trainer (Burl Ives) and his African-American partner, Mr. Keys (Paul Winfield). Keys manages to train the dog to refrain from attacking African-Americans.

In the end, the dog’s original owner—a racist—wants the dog back. McNichol’s character tells him the dog has been cured by an African-American.
 
The ending is quite a shocker. Give it a chance and rent it.

M. David Snyder is a multimedia artist in Allentown.