IDF Modified Ruger 10/22

I've been considering buying a Ruger 10/22 for a little while now. While researching the model I came across an interesting article (click here) about a modified version that had been in IDF service. While generally known as a rifle for target practice or hunting small game, the IDF at one point adopted it for non-lethal riot control purposes. It has also been used by Israeli special forces to silence dogs and shoot out lights. (Along the way I also learned that there is a .22 Magnum round; click here.)

Over Shabbat Robi was trying to get me excited about the new slew of AR15-style .22 rifles. Although they look nice, I really don't see any possible way to justify the price differential. On the other hand, if the Magpul FMG9 (pocket-size sub-maching gun) would actually make it to market, this would be something to save up for (see video below).

(For more firearms posts, click here.)

Prof. Hans L. Trefousse (1921-2010)

Hans L. Trefousse

Distinguished Professor Emeritus of History

Brooklyn College and CUNY Graduate Center

In the second half of my sophomore year I registered for a history elective to break up a schedule packed with boring math and computer science classes. The course was American foreign policy and the professor was Hans L. Trefousse.

Prof. Trefousse was an old school professor. He expected excellence and perfection both in content and in form. I still recall the day he returned a paper to me with a grade of A minus. "I'm sorry Mr. Zion," he whispered in my ear--and he always referred to his students by their surnames in class--"it was an excellent paper but you split an infinitive and I couldn't in good conscience give you an A." Since then I have been careful never to split an infinitive in my writing. (Although the last time I looked into the matter I discovered that this is no longer considered an improper construction.)

Indeed, there was no such thing as grade inflation and he demanded nothing short of mastery of the material we covered. You didn't register for his classes for an easy A; you registered either to eradicate your ignorance of a particular subject or out of ignorance as to what you were getting yourself into. I didn't mind. I loved the subject matter and moreover I loved his presentation of it. He was a great lecturer as a well as an accomplished and recognized scholar. I decided to major in history--for better or worse is still a matter for hot debate--and I subsequently registered for every course he taught. When those options ran out I registered for an independent study with him.

As I mentioned previously, Prof. Trefousse was old school. He expected students to possess a working background in the literary classics, including the Bible. In his course on the Civil War and Reconstruction he taught us about an address delivered by Congressman Charles Sumner that became known as Naboth's Vineyard Speech. After discussing the address he asked the class if anyone knew the biblical account of Naboth's vineyard, but he was disappointed by the blank stares. He couldn't believe that no one had read the Bible and he asked every student one by one if they really didn't know what Naboth's vineyard was. Being the only kippah in the room I started sweating and inching my way under my desk. I sat at the far edge of the classroom and by the time he reached me I was half way under the desk. "Now Mr. Zion," he started. He then paused for a moment, leaned forward and continued with eyes piercing and lips curling into a wry smile, don't tell me you don't know the story of Naboth's vineyard?!"

May his family be comforted among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.

Click here and here for obits.

Tone Deaf Sephardi Ba'al Korei and My Grandfather

While at work today I came across a fascinating reference to Moses Levi Maduro Peixotto, who served as the hazzan* of New York's Congregation Shearith Israel (Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue) from 1816 until his death in 1828. He was much beloved by his flock, but alas no mortal is free of imperfection and Peixotto's shortcoming was his bad voice. As the congregation's historian records:

Indeed, so limited were his musical gifts that at points in the service where the congregation had to chant a hymn he would often stop and wait for some member of the congregation to give the key and the melody. On one occasion when a congregant raised a question about his confusingly unmusical chanting of the Torah, he replied, "Please remember that it says in the Torah that the Lord said to Moses or He spoke to Moses, never that He sung to him." The wide popularity of this reader of the services despite his musical limitations indicates wide compensatory qualities.**

The following scan reproduces the epitaph from his tombstone:***

Click on the image to enlarge and note that the epitaph chronogram from Psalms reads אשירה ליי בחיי! Do I need to point out the irony considering the less-than-favorable description above of his davening and leining capabilities?

Update: As I reread the post I was reminded that the chronogram I selected (also from Psalms) for my grandfather's tombstone is לדוד מזמור: חסד ומשפט אשירה, לך ה' אזמרה. His name was David and he had a beautiful voice and a finely-tuned ear. He returned to religious observance as a young man and taught himself to serve as a ba'al tefilah for every possible davening and how to lein every type of leining. He transmitted these skills to many local boys (including, if I remember correctly, this dayyan in a brown suit?), as well as myself and my cousins. This past week I leined בשלח in his memory. It was his bar mitzvah parshah, although he did not actually get to lein the haftarah for it when he became bar mitzvah (click here about this).

(Click to enlarge)
Warsaw, ca. 1914-5 (?)
Left: my grandfather, David (age 7)
Right: his sister, Chana (age 9)
Center: their mother, Helen

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* The duties of the Sephardi hazzan in this period included those generally ascribed today to the pulpit rabbi.

** David and Tamar de Sola Pool, An Old Faith in the New World: Portrait of Shearith Israel, 1654-1954 (New York: Columbia U. Press, 1955), p. 175.

***David de Sola Pool, Portraits Etched in Stone: Early Jewish Settlers, 1682-1831 (New York: Columbia U. Press, 1952), pp. 428-29.

Apple vs. Obama (And the Tuition Crisis)

Yesterday there two important public addresses, President Obama's state of the union address and Apple CEO Steve Job's presentation to unveil the iPad.

Which address did Americans consider more significant?

* * *

I love watching Steve Jobs and other Apple bigwigs strut around in casual street clothing. They have their priorities in the right place (at least as far as Apple is concerned) and they concentrate on thinking outside the box to make newer and better Apple products.

Perhaps Jobs would be willing to lend some of his advisors to us so they can help reform our educational infrastructure. Jewish education could also use some newer, cheaper and better products.

* * *

Update: Unbeknownst to me the iPad has become the butt of jokes that its marketers chose the wrong name for the product (see here; hattip Raizy and G6). That's ok, as I'm sure Apple will figure out how to turn this to its favor.

Related: read about my bastard child here.

GuMC

Jr is pretty good at identifying car makes (and some models too). He even used to be able to identify the engine size of select models. A lot of this education took place during our morning walks to school last year. (I miss those walks very much.)

This morning Jr missed the bus--strike one against the JFS option--and we walked to school. Along the way we passed a GMC pickup truck and I told Jr to stop. I had never taught him to recognize the GMC symbol, which is simply the letters "GMC."

"Do you know what type of a truck this is?" I asked him.

Before I could tell him, he said, "Gu, Mu, Cu . . . Gu, Mu, Cu . . . GuM, Cu . . . Gum, Cu . . . GuMC! Abba, it's a GuMC!"

Not quite, but his response made me happier than I would have been had he actually known the proper name of the truck.

For some more Jr posts, click here. (I would greatly appreciate it if someone can tell me why older posts don't appear.)

So Small

The smallness of everything related to Jr'ette just amazes me. Of course we had already been through all this with Jr, but I forgot how small everything is at this point. And of course measured now against Jr, what would normally be small seems even smaller.

The tush. Oh, so small. Don't forget to make the diaper tight, otherwise it will slide right down that almost non-existent tush.

And the diapers! My childhood G.I. Joe figures could wear a larger size.

And the crying? Compared to Jr's hours-long, thrashing, violently-loud tantrums, Jr'ette's soft and muffled cries sound like sweet music.

For some more Jr posts, click here. (I would greatly appreciate it if someone can tell me why older posts don't appear.)

My Bastard Child

Every guy has a bastard child. (In some families it's known as the other wife. In the worst cases, it becomes the first wife, and the first wife becomes the other wife.)

Take my friend Robi, for example, who bought a dog. He claimed the purchase was for "work-related purposes,"* but the dog fast became a ben bayit. He loves the dog and the dog loves him. Their love for one another is readily apparent after spending just a few minutes with the two of them, but Mrs. Robi has a completely different relationship with the dog. You can't quite blame her, considering that the dog poops and pees all over and causes other mischief. In any case the dog is not just any ben bayit, but the bastard child.

Then there is my friend S. He loves kids. His kids. My kids. Your kids. Anybody's kids. He just loves kids. He's the type of a guy who will cross the street to wipe the runny nose of a stranger's kid on his shirt sleeve. I can't even remember the last time I saw him with a clean white shirt tucked into his pants on Shabbat. Within twenty minutes after candle lighting his shirt is already untucked and covered in drool, snot, vomit and various food stains. None of it phases him and I learned a long time ago not to bother calling his attention to his filthy Shabbat shirts. He's a baby magnet and he relishes it. Last summer we went camping in Harriman. As we sat around the campfire his youngest child approached him and S actually pushed him away with one hand as he tapped away on the iPhone that he cuddled in the other hand. "S!" yelled his wife, "E wanted to come to you!"

"But he's wet," S. explained. "I don't want him to ruin my iPhone." Yes, bastard child syndrome.

As my own wife will testify complains, the iPhone has quickly become my own bastard child as well.

What's your bastard child?

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* He actually does use the dog in his pediatric dental practice to calm his anxious patients.

Heartwarming Orthodox Wedding in NYT

A lot of the Jblog posts this past week dealt with day school tuition and were quite depressing. I'll come back to that tomorrow, but in the meantime I wanted to point you to a different story that will make you cry, albeit tears of joy. Judy M. told me about a heartwarming wedding she attended last week. The New York Times even headlined it in its Sunday wedding section. Click here for the article and a slideshow.

JFS Solution to Tuition Crisis?

The Jewish Foundation School (JFS) of Staten Island is hosting an open house for interested parents this coming Monday. The following message was posted by Honestly Frum:

Jewish Foundation School invites Bergen County parents to a school tour and open house at 10 AM on 1/18/10. Come see what we're about and how your children can excel here. School will be in session so you'll have a first hand look at what the school can offer. For more information, contact 2010JFS@gmail.com or call us at 718-983-6042.

JFS has been a hot topic recently on the blogs that cover the tuition "crisis" because of its (relatively) low tuition rates and its campaign to open its doors to Bergen County tuition refugees. Everyone seems to have their reasons--some less valid and some more valid--for dismissing the JFS option. But for all the hours that people spend around shabbat tables, on blogs and in other venues* whining about tuition, surely these same people can spend a few hours--on what is likely a work holiday anyway--to investigate JFS. I personally don't live in Bergen County, but I am still going to try and visit the school this Monday to see what it offers.

The next time I hear anyone whining about their tuition payments, my first question will be, "did you at least check out JFS."

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* I have a friend in Woodmere who leaves the shabbat table after kiddush when he has guests over because he can't stand to remain for table conversation that inevitable turns to high costs, particularly in regards to tuition. Last week I went to a sheloshim siyyim for Summy's father and even there my conversation with him turned to tuition.

How to Eat for Free

The Mrs. showed me this great Youtube clip about a woman who feeds her family of six on four dollars a week.

I have to admit that I'm not a coupon cutter, but the clip gives pause to reconsider ignoring that tactic. (This won't work for families that eat fleishig or cholov yisroel, but there are still some lessons to learn.)