Recently, an interesting clash of ideas set off a cultural and religious war in Manhattan. A truly tasteless (and thoughtless) billboard blared: "CHRISTMAS QUALITY, HANNUKAH PRICING!" What were they thinking, indeed?
As completely understandable, and expected, a number of people took offense. The Anti-Defamation League called it "crude and offrensvie," and said that it reinforced anti-Semitic stereotypes.
“Particularly with the long history of anti-Semitic stereotypes about Jews and money, with the age-old notion that Jews are cheap, to use the Jewish holiday in dealing with issues of money is clearly insensitive and inappropriate,” the Anti-Defamation League’s New York Director Ron Meier told CBS.
Here's the company's astounding response: “The inspiration for Hanukkah’s inclusion was anything but anti-Semitic – in fact, we’re likening ourselves to the Jewish holiday,” said Brian Gordon of Miami MG in a statement. “Simply put Hanukkah represents a better value because you get 8 nights for the price of 1 – much like Wodka, more for less.”
“Hopefully this response will help re-focus you on all of the serious places where anti-Semitism does exist – however it doesn’t exist anywhere in our marketing,” said Gordon.
The ad, for Wodka vodka, was down Tues. at 4 p.m., CBS reported.
Anyone, comments?
Deborah Hirsch
crazychikwriter.blogspot.com
b2bstoryteller.biz
Friday, December 2, 2011
What I Learned From Cancer
What I've Learned: There's a reason why it's called 'The Present'
Published 05:51 p.m., Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Editor's note: This is the second part of a two-part What I've Learned column. The first part ran last week.
Experts advise a lot of ways of trying to let go, a prime way of living in the moment. Focus on just what's in front of you. Spend time in nature. Smell a flower or work in the garden. And there's always meditation, if you don't mind sitting with your legs crossed on the floor till your back gives out.
Letting go is so hard because, so often, it means loss.
In my life I've had to let go of a lot of things that I'd rather not. I finally had my beautiful son, but not the way I wanted. It was with the help of an egg donor. I got to carry him. I gave birth to him. But I had to let go forever of the idea of having a child with my genes, since all my eggs were good for was miscarriages. He's a miraculous 10 now, and guess what? He's a writer, just like me. My mother kept saying at the hospital, "I just can't figure out who he looks like."
Today he's the spitting image of his father. But I can't count the number of people who say, "He has your nose." Of course, there are the ones asking now if he's my grandson! But somewhere along the way, I let go. I even let that go.
The person I learned the most about letting go from was my friend, Dana. She was 37 when she died, and I met her right after she was diagnosed with Stage 4 kidney cancer.
She lived for two years. At the end we were all there for her, our breast cancer support group, and she went around the hospital room and told each one of us how she would still be with us when she was gone. For me, she said every time I wrote, she would be there with me. I couldn't stop crying but when I looked at her face, I saw peace.
I saw the same peace on my mother's face several hours before she died this spring, even though she was in grave distress from congestive heart failure. As I was leaving her hospital room for what would be the last time, she called out, "I love you." Her greatest gift to me, but I think I knew as I left that something was happening. She was letting go. She died two hours later. She taught me not to fear dying, but to live every minute as if it were your last. She was right there in the moment, dying. She died living.
How many of us live dying? A chaplain at Hospice recently wrote, "A new patient I sat with, three days before her death, spoke to me as if I were a trusted friend. Though she could not open her eyes, she said these profound words, `As the cancer grows, the fear gets less, because my love grows. Love of everything: birds, water, children and light. Just take a walk outside, in the fall, you'll see. Life in the moment is sublime. This is the point we miss.'"
As the chaplain added, how soon will we accept this opportunity to be fully alive before we die?
Someone once said, the past's history. The future's a mystery. But the present is a gift, and that's why it's called "the present." I've tried to live my life that way, after cancer.
I worry sometimes that the cancer will come back -- especially when a doctor told me, "Well, your body knows how to make cancer."
But that's tomorrow and it's today and today I'm healthy and the sun is shining and I'm going home soon to my husband and son, who I never thought I'd have, and now can't imagine ever living without ... and life is good, right now.
May you find your present, too.
Read more: http://www.stamfordadvocate.com/news/article/What-I-ve-Learned-There-s-a-reason-why-it-s-2306808.php#ixzz1fPpE8zUG
Published 05:51 p.m., Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Editor's note: This is the second part of a two-part What I've Learned column. The first part ran last week.
Experts advise a lot of ways of trying to let go, a prime way of living in the moment. Focus on just what's in front of you. Spend time in nature. Smell a flower or work in the garden. And there's always meditation, if you don't mind sitting with your legs crossed on the floor till your back gives out.
Letting go is so hard because, so often, it means loss.
In my life I've had to let go of a lot of things that I'd rather not. I finally had my beautiful son, but not the way I wanted. It was with the help of an egg donor. I got to carry him. I gave birth to him. But I had to let go forever of the idea of having a child with my genes, since all my eggs were good for was miscarriages. He's a miraculous 10 now, and guess what? He's a writer, just like me. My mother kept saying at the hospital, "I just can't figure out who he looks like."
Today he's the spitting image of his father. But I can't count the number of people who say, "He has your nose." Of course, there are the ones asking now if he's my grandson! But somewhere along the way, I let go. I even let that go.
The person I learned the most about letting go from was my friend, Dana. She was 37 when she died, and I met her right after she was diagnosed with Stage 4 kidney cancer.
She lived for two years. At the end we were all there for her, our breast cancer support group, and she went around the hospital room and told each one of us how she would still be with us when she was gone. For me, she said every time I wrote, she would be there with me. I couldn't stop crying but when I looked at her face, I saw peace.
I saw the same peace on my mother's face several hours before she died this spring, even though she was in grave distress from congestive heart failure. As I was leaving her hospital room for what would be the last time, she called out, "I love you." Her greatest gift to me, but I think I knew as I left that something was happening. She was letting go. She died two hours later. She taught me not to fear dying, but to live every minute as if it were your last. She was right there in the moment, dying. She died living.
How many of us live dying? A chaplain at Hospice recently wrote, "A new patient I sat with, three days before her death, spoke to me as if I were a trusted friend. Though she could not open her eyes, she said these profound words, `As the cancer grows, the fear gets less, because my love grows. Love of everything: birds, water, children and light. Just take a walk outside, in the fall, you'll see. Life in the moment is sublime. This is the point we miss.'"
As the chaplain added, how soon will we accept this opportunity to be fully alive before we die?
Someone once said, the past's history. The future's a mystery. But the present is a gift, and that's why it's called "the present." I've tried to live my life that way, after cancer.
I worry sometimes that the cancer will come back -- especially when a doctor told me, "Well, your body knows how to make cancer."
But that's tomorrow and it's today and today I'm healthy and the sun is shining and I'm going home soon to my husband and son, who I never thought I'd have, and now can't imagine ever living without ... and life is good, right now.
May you find your present, too.
Read more: http://www.stamfordadvocate.com/news/article/What-I-ve-Learned-There-s-a-reason-why-it-s-2306808.php#ixzz1fPpE8zUG
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