Jennifer Higdon (b. 1962), Pulitzer-Prizewinning composer of Violin Concerto dedicated to her former student Hilary Hahn, below.
Am listening to this superb music now as I type. Scott made me a nice breakfast and is snoring gently on my left as I admire his newly shaved bald pate.
Last Saturday in Cleveland, Donna and I went to brunch at Corky and Lenny's, a famous Jewish deli. I ordered a massively high hot tongue sandwich on rye. Scrumptious. Then I bought pastries for Mom and Ellen who love nothing better than fattening themselves up. Who can blame them? I think I've lost several pounds during sciaticagony.
Then we drove out to the new Maltz Museum of Jewish Heritage. Parking lot was so empty we thought it was closed for a pogrom. But, no, there were Rhoda and Sandy behind the counter.
Many excellent videos were shown in little theaters thruout, giving me a chance to rest my aching tush. The requisite Holocaust exhibits were well done. I still can't get enuf of that terrible period in mankind's history.
An interesting exhibit was Cleveland's role in the apparel business that clothed America. Old photos showed the German Jew Levi Strauss whose dry goods company in San Francisco helped outfit the miners in the Gold Rush. Cleveland itself had numerous apparel companies in the first half of the 20th century, second only to Manhattan.
It was in one of these apparel companies - Majestic Specialties, Inc., that my dad earned his living. My uncle Dave Klineman was one of three brothers who started the company, in the downtown Majestic Hotel.
I so wanted to reminisce about those days w/two of my dad's former associates - Mort Shaw, but I wrote down the wrong phone number for Morty, and Alan Schonberg, who I did see.
Alan left Majestic in 1965 and started his own management recruiting business - MRI - which at one point was pulling in $1 billion a year. My cousin Linda and I drove out to his Beechwood wooded home. In my day, Beechwood was nothing but woods.
Inside his spacious home, many windows gave onto the woods. Just lovely, with the fall colors outside the windows. Alan's second wife Carol was very gracious. We spent what I thought was a good hour there but it was more like 2.5.
Apparently Paige Sumpter, who was one of two blacks in management, died recently. These people are all in their 80s now. Dad would've been 89.
I told Donna I did not feel the presence of God at the Maltz Museum. Nor did she. But I certainly have mumbled some adenois to get thru my sciatica agony. Here, lemme go into a crunch and see if I feel the presence of God.
Not much, not much.
Rhoda wanted to make sure we saw the Judaica Room. It held artifacts from many temples near and far. I was utterly enthralled by Marc Chagal's Bible illustrations and photographed them. Chagal (1887-1985) was a Russian Jew who emigrated to France. His last name is a variant of Segal. (Thanks to Wiki for all unattributed info)
Chagal was influenced by his joyous ritualistic Hasidic upbringing. "When Matisse dies," said Picasso, "Chagal is the only one left who understands color."
My friend Nancy Wolen has a nice use of color.
Donna and I spent an hour in the gift shop of the Maltz Museum. I'd brought $500 to spend on the trip, excluding gas, and thought this was the perfect place to buy gifts, especially for little Gracie.
I bought her a Chai Maintenance bib and a silver-plated mezuzzah for her bedroom that says something like Bless this child as she enters the room and leaves the room. No Hebrew writing on it but lovely nonetheless.
I bought Sarah and Ethan a mezuzzah with Hebrew writing, a tiny inconspicuous one they can put in their doorway should they wish.
I think that covers the highlights of the Cleveland trip. 114 photos are still awaiting download and my fabulous new Maltz earrings - a steal for $12 - lie waiting to swing merrily as I walk...someday.
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