I’m heading off to my birthday celebration, tired in the head. Be back on Friday afternoon, too much to do to be away longer. Plan on getting a tattoo, staying at our favorite Vermont Inn, taking walks, reading, loving each other. On birthdays I think about what I want the rest of my life to be and how I can achieve it. I’ll report back on that.
I’ve decided we don’t need a house or pet sitter, I’ll just leave Red in charge with instructions for watering the animals, letting the other dogs out and feeding them. I don’t think that will be a problem, the only thing I can’t figure out is how can use the phone if there’s an emergency. Maybe he can bark into a smartphone. See you tomorrow and thanks for being a part of this quite remarkable and often insane enterprise.
Maria is an artist through and through, in the way she thinks, walks, talks, dresses. I suppose it’s obvious that I love just about everything about Maria, perhaps not her laundering skills so much, and one of the things I love is that she is always the same, no matter where she is or what she is doing, she is always an artist. She wore one of her funky red dresses to our wedding, and often wears it out to the pasture to do barn chores and shovel manure.
The only things she changes – and one really learns to do this in a pasture – is to put rubber boots on when go out to do the chores. This morning we were doing our daily manure shoveling together. I rake onto the shovel, she carries the shovel load out to the field. Three donkeys do a lot of dumping each night. I love the sight of her in her new dress – she got it for $13 last week at a thrift shop – digging into the manure pile, hauling it out into the pasture.
It is a good thing one of us has some style, I am walking pile of rumple. I think this is part of being authentic, really, figuring out why you are and standing comfortably in that identity.
When I woke up this morning, Maria gave me my first birthday present, a replica of a necklace believed to have been worn by Jewish Pirates seeking revenge on Spain for the Inquisition and looking to raise money to help poor Jews escape from yet another country butchering and torturing them. It’s an odd thing for me to be wearing, there is humor in it but also lots of meaning. Maria and I have always understood what symbols mean to one another, we have always seen their importance. This is the sort of gift I might get her – like Wendy Davis’s pink filibuster sneakers – because it is funny, yet more than that.
I consider myself a feminist, I have watched for years as women have struggled with issues of empowerment, domination and equality, and they struggle with those issues still, and perhaps forever. Men do not have such a movement, it never got off the ground, they do not organize, write and talk to one another much about the empowerment issues they face, and we forget sometimes that there are so many voiceless, oppressed and dominated men in our culture, they are invisible victims in our society, perhaps because so many men are violent, brutal, controlling and destructive.
I do not believe in struggle stories, but the truth is I was for the beginning of my life one of those men, I was as set upon, frightened, voiceless, betrayed and dis-empowered as you can get and survive. Perhaps this is why I relate to women so much. Writing was my way out, the way to my voice, to control over my life, to escape and, in a way, to power. Photography has also become my voice, my empowerment, my need to see and understand the truth and beauty in the world.
I am not a powerful person, I don’t aspire to that, but when I learned there were Jewish pirates, educated and intelligent men who refused to accept mistreatment and betrayal and did not abandon their poor brethren – as we have in America – I laughed and joked about it, and there is something funny about the idea, that is the irony of being Jewish in the world I felt the pirates were about voice and empowerment too.
The little boy I was grew up in a fragmented and terrified immigrant culture, ruled by fierce and anxious women whose identity of identity was enough education to have a secure income and a comfortable family and safety, things Jews in that culture had not had for thousands of years. I would have been thrilled to know about the Jewish Pirates who roamed the Caribbean hunting for the Spanish Galleons filled with looted and stolen treasure.
The funny part is that I am thrilled still. In addition to my necklace, I’m getting a tattoo this morning, sort of a Jewish Pirate theme for my birthday, my daughter will roll her eyes, groan and hopefully smile. But the best and most important birthday present I will ever have is a partner in life who understands these sometimes complex and unfathomable symbols and paradoxes. I love my necklace and am wearing it. It is a symbol to me of faith, redemption and courage. And yes, empowerment, one of those overused words that are overused because they are important. I will never take empowerment for granted, not in me, not in women.
The best birthday present I could ever have is opening my eyes in the morning and finding myself next to Maria.
