The Buck and Mike Blog

Peace in the heart is the greatest of comforts
Yet peace dies where anger sears heart and soul
Sad is the heart that knows not forgiveness
No solace where anger chokes life out of love

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The other day I bought the Dr. Seuss book “Horton Hears a Who.” Why would a 48 year-old buy a Dr. Seuss book for himself?

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Last night, Buckley and I watched the movie “The Boy with Green Hair.” I’d been thinking about it for a long time — I remember seeing it a couple of times on Saturday morning TV when I was a little kid. The movie was made in 1948 and stars a young Dean Stockwell as the boy. I’m among the last of the Baby Boomers, born in 1957. Also, I’m Jewish, and most of my family perished in the Holocaust, in World War II. Several others lived through the horrors of the camps, and the rest escaped to America, often from the pograms of Russia in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. Of course, all of these things informed the way I understood this movie. » Read the rest of this entry »

Oh, the comfort –
the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person –
having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words,
but pouring them all right out, just as they are,
chaff and grain together;
certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them,
keep what is worth keeping,
and then with the breath of kindness
blow the rest away.

—Dinah Maria Mulock Craik, from her novel A Life for a Life, 1859

Tonight at sundown begins the eight-day observance of the Jewish holiday of Pesach, or Passover. The first night of Passover is observed by most Jews by gathering family near to join in a seder, a ritual meal that is accompanied by the retelling of the story of the Exodus, how the Jewish people, led by Moses, left enslavement in Egypt more than 3,000 years ago and struck out on their 40 year journey through the desert to Eretz Yisrael, the Land of Israel. This year, for the first time, I bought a seder plate, a matzah cover and a cup for the wine for Elijah. And this year, like the last two years, I will not prepare or attend a seder.

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This week I ran across a box of orange jelly sticks in, of all places, our local LDS bookstore near the Washington DC Temple. For the uninitiated, the best kind are dipped in the darkest chocolate available. They are packed neatly in tight parallel rows like good soldiers. Orange jelly sticks remind me of my mother. Growing up, I remember her opening a box every Easter and one at Christmas. Of all my siblings, I was the most taken with orange jelly sticks, so it was a guilty pleasure she and I shared.

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A couple of years ago I read a book by Jill Conner Browne, recommended by my best friend, Mike Milar. Although a bit bawdy and definitely not a children’s book, much of the book is very affecting and even transformative. The quote below is one example, and one I come back to often. Whenever I start to feel like things are merely okay in life, I step back for a minute and read this and ask myself, are things really okay, or am I being petted with a stick? » Read the rest of this entry »

This is why it works: Buckley and I have values that are very similar. We respect each other’s faith, and we both have a strong faith of our own and a strong devotion to our family. We both have extremely similar senses of humor. Our good friend Beth jokes that we’re really just one person living in two bodies, because Buckley and I are so much alike.

My family has been Jewish for as far back as we know. For Jews, you basically inherit your faith from your mother, and your tribe from your father. (If my mother had not been Jewish, then according to Jewish law I would not be Jewish.) My father’s father was a Levi (or Levite), and my father was a Levi and my sisters and I are Levis.

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If I had a dime for every time I have been asked lately why I want to remain a member of a Church that doesn’t want me, I could stop worrying about how I’ll fund my retirement.

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Here’s a copy of a letter my mother wrote several years ago, which was printed in the Ft. Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel newspaper.

The photo is Buckley and I at our wedding, with my mother and father beside us. Mom and Dad flew to Toronto with only a few days notice so that they could be witnesses to our wedding — they adore Buckley.

My parents are the best, and I have three sisters, too, who are all wonderful people — not only great sisters but great friends. And I’m an awfully lucky guy.