Weekend in Austin (Witty Title Pending)

This last weekend, Katie and I ventured down to Austin because most of all I missed that city and also my friend Ezra and his band the Harpoons have been touring and came through Texas. They played in Dallas Thursday night and Austin on Saturday. So she left work early, we ran a few errands and drove to Austin for the weekend. For those interested I'll share the basic details and highlights of our shenanigans. (The word shenanigans popped into my head and I was going to dismiss it, but Katie is a descendant of the Irish, so I thought I'd use it).

Friday

Friday was probably the most entertaining day and probably why Katie has been egging me on all day to write this blog. After leaving early and running some errands together we went to go drop off her car at her folk's house. Meeting the parents didn't produce any memorable stories, but I do have to say they are very charming people. She paints a better picture of him than I am about to, but her dad has the very classic look and sound of southern good ol' boy. The politeness that comes with that stereotype definitely applies and I look forward to meeting them again.

After picking up some snacks we hit the road at about 5:30 in Dallas. If you haven't had the joy of driving on 75 and/or 35 in Dallas during Friday rush hour than you can hit your head many times in the head and than sit in a small uncomfortable chair without moving for about an hour and you'll have had the same experience. Luckily I had a funny co-pilot who is both nice to look at and talk to.

Finally we broke through the chains of Dallas traffic and sped down Interstate Highway 35. After a short stop in Hillsboro we continued our trip. Early on I warned Katie that because of a lot of miles, my car makes some weird noises at high speeds, but I've never had a problem. Shortly after leaving Waco these she kept asking me about some of these noises.

At first I brushed them off saying we'll take a look in Austin, but I'm sure they're just the typical noises. Nothing I would worry too much about. You might say I was doing the typical macho man routine, but I seriously thought there was nothing to worry about until the noises became much worse, loud and persistent than ever before.

A quick note about my car: I bought it used at a car auction. While being relatively newer, a 2000 Toyota Echo, it had a lot of miles and some bumper damage. Every time I've asked a mechanic if this was just cosmetic or something to worry about they answered it was cosmetic. Through the last two years I've made scraped my bumped against something as I'm sure most imperfect drivers do. A few friends have commented that it looks worse than before, they may have been right but I continued on driving. Last week it started falling off, but I was able to push it back and shrug the problem off. Keep reading to find out why this wasn't so good of an idea.

With the car sounding quite awful, I relented and agreed with Katie and pulled over ASAP at the next exit gas station. As we pulled in the noises got worse and as I pulled into a parking spot we heard louder, crunching, scraping noises. The only way to describe what happened was to say the bumper mostly fell off but was attached enough to stay on and be dragged near and under the tires. Needless to say, not a safe or efficient way to drive.

I can check fluids, change a tire and I generally know the basics about a car. If anyone asked me to help fix a car, I would take a look but I would probably be more helpful on a pro-football team. Ok, that's a little bit of an exaggeration, how about a college football team? One of those that never make it to the playoffs, but still play fairly well. I'd be about that helpful.

So together we tried to think of possible solutions while calling for help. We thought about purchasing rope to tie the bumper on until we got to Austin or finding a way to pull it off. After consulting Papa O'Rear we decided to remove the bumper. Again uncertain of how to go about this we too a closer look and used the tired jack equipped me and a knife a fellow car troubled man lent us to hack and pull at the bumper. Before we inflicted any real damage, we were saved by a really nice guy on his way from northern Iowa to south central Mexico to visit his family.

He asked if we needed help and quickly went to grab his tools. After about half an hour of teamwork (mostly keeping him company and constantly repeating our gratitude) the bumper was pulled off and some flap-like parts were tied up so not to harm my tires. Closer to Austin and hoping for the best we continued the trip.

I have to repeat my gratitude for Katie for being very helpful, positive and comforting during the whole experience. Needless to say I was sad, annoyed and worried that I had made a mess of our trip. FYI: It goes uphill from here.

In little more than an hour later we made it safely into Austin and had a bite to eat with our friend Hannah at Kerby Lane. Both exhausted we headed toward our lodging. We were staying with Austin and Lisa in far Northwest Austin. Before any of you ask yourself if you know Austin or Lisa either independently or through me, I'm going to say probably not. We met them through CouchSurfing.com a very cool website that allows people to create a profile about themselves and than look for or offer "couch" space. In our case we looked for an actual bedroom and among many apologetic negative responses was a welcoming invitation from Austin.

I was careful to make sure everyone knew that it goes uphill at this point. No need to worry, neither Austin, Lisa or their dog Artemis stole our kidneys or anything of that nature. Though we did get a little lost finding their house in the first place. With their neighborhood being further from the campus or downtown areas of the city, many of the streets were not labeled well or at all. For that fact and somewhat misleading Google Maps directions we turned down some wrong streets in attempt to find the right one.

During this fiasco, we came across a few yellow signs with a picture of deer on it. Jokingly, I think it was Katie who said it would just make our night complete to see a deer. Well while turn around in one of these wrong streets we spotted three deer in the grass! We were quite humored, but continued on and finally found the house, made our way to the bedroom and slept.

Saturday

Not quite as exciting as a blog so I'll keep it shorter.

After being lazy for a significant part of the morning, we finally introduced ourselves to our warm hosts and their cute dog. Not only where they friendly enough to let us stay there and not kill us, they also told us to feel welcome to exploit their kitchen. When asked Austin even allowed me to use his laptop to find a mechanic.

We stopped into the mechanic and after finding out I needed an entirely new bumper but was probably safe driving around, we put the car troubles behind us. (Truly, the car troubles were behind us as the bumper occupied the backseat of my car.)

We proceeded to go to Whole Foods, Zilker Park and Bookwomen. Three places I have had the intention to go to most of my time in Austin, but up until this weekend had never visited. All wonderful spots to visit and enjoy.

At night we went to the Ezra show. I have to stop and say how much this guy amazes me. On Thursday he began to play for an empty house filled with only one audience member there for his show: me. Even though the other three guys that did not work at the bar were there for another bad, Ezra played his heart out. Again on Saturday he repeated this, but now with an excited Austin crowd that appreciate his childlike speech patterns (childlike as a complement, he has this poetic innocence) and his eloquent lyrics.

After the show we headed back to bed. Party poopers, I know, but we were tired.

Sunday

Nothing too exciting here, we were lazy again, got up, bought some snacks and food at Wheatsville Co-op and headed back to Dallas.

When we were almost to Dallas we made a stop in Red Oak or as Katie affectionately calls it, "Dead Oak." Red Oak is a community just south of Dallas, just outside DeSoto and Lancaster. We drove past her first home and had a stroll down memory lane.

Just like the witty title is pending, the quirky conclusion is also missing. All I can say is I had the most incredible weekend ever with an amazing woman even with some of the typical craziness that seems to follow my life.

Past Blogs

So I wanted to be able to add the noteworthy posts from old blogs I've had to this one. I thought there was a way to put their date so that they'd fall in the right sequence, but I was mistaken. Instead I'll just post the links and either I'll go delete the blogs I'm not 100% happy with or you can chose ignore them.

From the end of senior year through most of my year at Collin County and the first part of my UT experiences: http://rememberthatjew.blogspot.com/

I particularly like the most recent two from that page.

For a period of the summer between Collin County and my first semester at UT I attempted to blog more frequently as part of this contest for a scholarship. The link is on the previous blog but I can recreate it here for ease: http://www.progressiveu.org/blog/human-dignity-activist

Tonight, I'm hoping to write another blog or two about some current happenings in my life. For now... send me an e-mail or something if we haven't spoken for awhile. With the summer ending it would be nice to reconnect (if that applies to any of you reading).

Gray

I’m tired of seeing gray. Ever since I’ve been small it has been gray. Never simple black and white, never the simple happy or unhappy or the simple optimism or pessimism. I suppose I should be glad that I have ability to search for and usually find the reason for hope in most situations. After all I am a human rights advocate and there is always source for despair, I am comforted by the few pockets of progress that are sources for joy.

After all I am also a survivor of a deceased father a reason for nearly any eleven year old child to see much dark shades of bleak gray and even the starkest blinding blacks that life has to offer. Such consuming dark hues that one begins to feel he may be stuck in tar and must crawl and fight to even have the hope to see the bright sunshine above.

And after all I am a product of middle class America with the gift of education and comfort of modernization. I have the ability, nay, the ability to even complain about color, its presence or absence.

One cannot forget that after all I am a descendent of a Holocaust survivor. While I weigh these feels of grayness, I must remember that my grandmother lived in a time that seems to be perfect for images of black and white. Perfect for black and white film. Not only perfect but less tangible, less scary in the absence of color, denoted at a distant then, not a recent now or not so far then, but a distant then. A time before color, a time where darkness denoted evil and lightness denoted good and the two were pitted in a battle for everything.

But I see the gray from that time, I even see the red. The red for the blood, pain, screaming, torture, senseless destruction and seemingly endless murder. The red of my distant relatives, the red of the Nazi flag, the red painting the map of Eastern Europe.

Red can also symbolize love and I’ve been told of this red too. The red blood flowing from the biggest hearts of their time, the warm red blood of individuals like the original White Rose who had big enough hearts to stand up against true evil. The warm red blood flowing in the veins and from the giant hearts of resistors risking their lives in save those with the mark of death: a yellow star.

But after all I started off talking about how I see gray, not red, yellow, black or white. Gray. I do perceive other colors, but I do not live them like I live gray. Since I was young I was consumed by books written about subjects that would not be a happy blue, a bright yellow or pure white. From the age of eleven while I was consumed by the dark tar-like black of the death of my father, I strived to see as much color and light as possible and as such I clawed my way out of this bog. Or so it would seem.

The darkness of all this continues to consume me. While I wear the green of the Save Darfur campaigns I feel gray. While I enjoy the yellow sun, brown chocolate, the tan skin of niece, the hazel eyes of a beautiful girl or many of the splendid colors of flowers, salads and the entire world, I feel grayness permeating my soul.

While I shift from poetry to prose, I still feel like I play the part of the poet. As the poet I have this impetus to shout my feelings and wear my heart on my sleeve. Yet how many of you taken the time to see the color my heart and really take note of its overcast tones and dreary appearance. Who among you will take the time to bring true color to my heart and more importantly true color to the world?

I am stuck in gray; I feel both the positive and the negative. I feel hope and despair. I try to enjoy life, but I am constantly reminded of death. Gray is not even a true color; it is a mix of both the absence of color and the mix of all colors. Gray is a mix of both everything and nothing all at once.

As a poet, I will let you onto a little secret of mine. I AM TIRED OF BEING GRAY. I do not want to enjoy colors as a passing hobby or as if they were part of a vacation. I do not want to live with the knowledge of black and the hope of white without the brilliance of color to embolden my hopes and make the promise of progress more vibrant. Most of all I do not want to be stuck in this tarry, gooey, cesspool of loneliness anymore.

I am a survivor of both a father and of Holocaust survivors, I am an activist of things most people do not even want to introduce into their nice white life and I am a poet. These things dance in the black, tucked away where many people do not allow themselves to go.

I am an uncle, brother, son and privileged member of the western world… all reasons to live in the white and perhaps the reasons the black is made gray. Yet WHY DO I FEEL CONSUMED BY DARK GRAY?

Why can I not color it? Why do these markers, crayons and panaceas do nothing? I use different techniques, patterns, combinations, but when I finish my Technicolor masterpieces… they all return to gray. Do I need ruby slippers to escape or does that only work when you can feel a particular variety of red? Show me the door, the paint brush, the way out!

Hold on… what’s this I see? What’s this I feel? Could that be color? Could it be vibrant greens, royal purples, soothing blues, loving reds and the gorgeous mix of hazel? Could you be here to rescue me from the gray and let me live among the colors? Or is this just a visitation? Is this just a dream? Will the bell ring and the warden shuffle me back to my dreary colorless cell? Will I wake up in my nightmare of world?

Please warden, let me sleep for a little while longer.