Soup To Nuts

Hello World, Happy September! Also, may I take this opportunity to wish a very Happy Jewish New Year to the sons and daughters of Israel - or in fact, anyone who likes a good party, and who doesn't, I ask you that. It can be challenging to get the school year off to a strong start when confronted with not one, not two, but three separate movable feasts at the same time - Labor Day, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur - so that the schools have just about flung open their doors after a long hot summer, and here they are, closing up shop again. I suppose the school systems are used to it by now, after all, we're celebrating the year of 5776 this time around, which you figure would be plenty long enough to iron out all of the kinks that would need to be flattened by now. What I wasn't expecting was the unwelcome discovery that the City of Yonkers Building Department was also closed on Monday and Tuesday (which really punched a hole in some of our plans at the real estate office where I'm working now) and it seemed very peculiar to me that a municipal government, in a massive urban metropolis like Yonkers, would be closed for the Jewish holidays. On the other hand, it's a well-known fact that Yonkers is always quick to make a buck wherever they can, so we can't ignore the possibility that they charge extra to make property owners comply with regulations to ensure that their structures are certified Kosher, and meet all of the standards that designation entails. Frankly, it sounds pretty (gefilte) fishy to me, and as they used to say on "Seinfeld" in the old days, "No (matzo ball) soup for you!" Speaking of time is on my side (NOT) anyone on Facebook earlier in the week could not fail to notice a large, colorful, and blaring graphic, under the heading of "This Sucks" announcing to one and all that we need to turn our clocks ahead this Sunday, and wraps up with the admonition to "Please Share and Repost" in big letters at the bottom. Excuse me??? I don't know where in the vast expanding universe this applies, but I know for a fact that it certainly isn't here on this planet in this solar system, for at least a couple of very good reasons. First of all, clocks are set ahead in the spring when the inaptly named Daylight Saving Time begins (BOO!) and which has long since already happened on March 8th earlier in the year. And in the second place, the end of Daylight Saving Time is when we turn the clocks back, not ahead, and that won't happen until November 1st this year. So where this grand and jaunty graphic came from, insisting that we turn our clocks ahead on September 20, is a mystery to me, I'm sure. Honestly, between the Jewish New Year of 5776, Daylight Saving Time in September, and Pope Gregory revamping the Julian calendar in 1582, somewhere the Druids are having a great big laugh, I dare say. And speaking of the Pope, alert readers may have noticed that the Twitter-sphere was all abuzz with this story a couple of weeks ago: ======================= Vatican Backs Plan to Name Rome Square for Martin Luther ======================= I don't think so! Inasmuch as Martin Luther was excommunicated by the Catholic Church in 1521, and nearly single-handedly caused the Protestant Reformation in his wake, I sincerely doubt that the Vatican (famous for its long history of holding grudges, and even longer memories) is really prepared to jump aboard the Martin Luther bandwagon at this late date. But the story goes that soon "A hilltop square in Rome is due to be named Piazza Martin Lutero, in memory of Luther's achievements. The site chosen is the Oppian Hill, a park area that overlooks the Colosseum." I notice they're not calling it "Martin Luther Plaza," and I may be alone in this opinion, but I'm guessing that Martin Lutero is actually the name of a local baker where they get their morning pastries, and no wonder they want to name a piazza for him, and surreptitiously at that. Or as they used to say on "Seinfeld" in the old days, "No (Italian Wedding) soup for you!" In other ecclesiastical news, and this much closer to home, I can only admit that I have no one to blame for this but myself, try as I might to find another culprit, alas. There is a very famous passage in the Bible at Joshua 24:15, where Joshua basically says to the rest of the recalcitrant Israelites, "I don't give a flying fig what the heck all of you guys decide to do, I'm not taking responsibility for any of you, and you can just go right ahead and do as you please." He then wraps up with a very stirring message about staying true to his faith, which has thrilled generations upon generations since his classic words were first spoken. Not so fast! Last week at church, I had occasion to use that quote in a document, and was more surprised than anybody to find Joshua's heroic sentiments badly mangled to read: "But as for me and my horse, we will serve the Lord." (For the benefit of the godless Communists and KGB agents monitoring my email - whose name is legion, heaven knows - I can assure everyone that Joshua never actually mentions his horse at any point in the narrative.) What Joshua was really referring to was everyone in his household, and he used the literary device of synecdoche in the word "house," where a single word is pressed into service to represent the whole, and his rousing declaration about "me and my house" staying true to his religious roots instantly ignites our spirits, in a way that him and his horse, frankly, could never aspire to, believe me. So there was definitely room for improvement there, which I'm sure even the aggrieved Joshua - not to mention, generations upon generations of Scripture enthusiasts, going all the way back to those original recalcitrant Israelites - would agree with, and who could blame him. Faring no better was Bill, who left a very specific and important message in the Reminders on his phone, because it was obviously of critical necessity, and he couldn't afford to have it overlooked through careless neglect. Unfortunately, the note in his Reminders says very plainly, and in its entirety: "Find out what to do about" and thereupon abruptly leaves its anxious reader in the lurch, as it were, and no doubt clamoring for more, I shouldn't wonder. That tantalizing fragment continues to be a mystery to this day, and likely to remain so at this rate, I'm afraid, although not from lack of trying, I can tell you that. Meanwhile at work, we asked one of our esteemed contractors to do some drywall work for one of our tenants, which they did with proficiency and dispatch, as expected. They followed that up with an invoice, which described the work and job location, and identified us as the customer. But to make sure we remembered exactly what project this was for, they also provided the name and address of the tenant, or rather, what they referred to as the "Havilland Lexington sweet." Now, I'll have you know that I've actually met these tenants, and you can believe me when I say that they are very far from sweet in any way, in fact, the word "barracuda" springs immediately to mind unbidden, in spite of rigorous efforts to suppress it, and I ought to know. Far be it from me to cast aspersion on our contractor friends, but I wouldn't think it would be beyond the realm of possibilities that someone in the building trades would understand the difference between a "suite" and "sweet," after all. Or as they used to say on "Seinfeld" in the old days, "No (barracuda) soup for you!" Elle