Less Artsy More Fartsy

Some notes from last night's trip to Ann Arbor for the art fairs:

-Even though she sleeps most of the time she's in her stroller, Emma is really a babe magnet. Next year I'll have to leave Mrs. Zwicker at home.

-In a state with an economy as bad as Michigan and competition for the almighty dollar consequently being so tough, nudist colonies should really get better looking spokespeople.

-By placing the booths for the Michigan Atheists and the National Organization for Circumcision Information Resources Center (they're against it) next to each other, the fair organizer did a big favor to the mohel who likes a theological debate but is pressed for time.

-When you run into a casual acquaintance in Ann Arbor of all places and tell him that you and the wife bought his and hers dog collars, it's best to specify that they are for your canines.

-At last year's fair, Mrs. Zwicker and I parked next to a car with a bumper sticker that read: "I'm Wiccan And I Vote." Since then I have wondered if there are any politicians who, before making any decision, says to his or her staff, "Hold on, what's the Wiccan voting bloc's position on this?"

Perspective

I just sent a contract to a prospective client. After weighing and sealing it, I found the correspondence weighed .8 ounce. I then realized that I forgot to include a return envelope in which the recipient could send a signed contract. After inserting the return envelope and sealing the outer envelope, I weighed it again to make sure that I would affix sufficient postage. I found that the return envelope increased the overall weight by one-fifth of an ounce.

This made me recognize once again what a miracle Emma's being with us is. Each day of Emma's first 28 days in this world, Mrs. Zwicker and I would eagerly anticipate the latest weight report. While a gain of half an ounce was a good sign and a full ounce could really make our day, a gain as little as one-fifth of an ounce was a positive.

In case you are wondering, according to the in-laws' kitchen scale, Emma weighed approximately seven pounds on July 4th. I am still considering O's Fan's suggestion of adding an Emma Weight Counter to the Zlog sidebar and see how old she is before she or Mrs. Zwicker make me remove it. For now, here's a picture of Emma with not-so-little Sammy a few weeks ago.

7/11

There are those voters who have that one issue that trumps all when deciding who gets their votes for president of this great country. For some, it's abortion. For others, it's gun rights. Some put the environment first while others' primary concern is their own financial well being. With the next presidential election almost sixteen months away, I have decided that, for the very first time, I too will be a single issue voter. What is my most paramount, burning issue that I hold dearest above all, you may ask. You may.

As of today, July 11, 2007, Slurpee Day, whichever candidate first pronounces his or her sincere appreciation for the importance of the most wonderful, effervescent beverage in the world gets my vote. I want, no I demand, a president who will give the Slurpee the honor it so richly deserves. Today, 7/11, should be a national holiday. Access to a Slurpee at any time should be a constitutional right, not just a privilege. It is also a great example of the great melting pot that is this country. For example, if you want to meet an Indian in Delaware, you merely have to go to the nearest 7-11. Just ask Joe Biden.

It's All In The Pursuit

Mrs. Zwicker and I, along with some friends, watched "The Pursuit of Happyness" the other night. It's based on the true story of Chris Gardner, a down-on-his-luck single father who struggles to make a living to support himself and his son. Gardner, whom Will Smith played quite well, doesn't give up no matter how bad things get, even when he and his son lose their apartment and sleep in a public bathroom those nights Gardner and his son are not fast enough to get to the homeless shelter. Through it all, Gardner maintains not only a positive attitude for himself but for his son as well. The ending is predictable-Gardner gets a job as a stock broker and goes on to make a very nice living for himself.

The movie is meant to be uplifting, showing an otherwise average guy who overcomes the odds to earn a good job so that he can take care of his son. While I usually enjoy those types of movies, assuming they are well done, this one left us all flat. The movie was just so depressing and exhausting until the last scene, which lasted all of two minutes. We would have like a little more showing of the reward for all of Gardner's efforts and perseverance.

As I thought about the movie over the next few days though, I came to appreciate a message that Gardner mentions at one point but remains otherwise unspoken. Gardner refuses to complain about his lot in life and instead maintains a positive attitude. Not only that, but he also acknowledges that society doesn't owe him anything. He correctly says that the Constitution does not guarantee life, liberty and happiness. It instead guarantees life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness (the spelling in the title is from the grafitti outside the son's daycare center). As Smith showed, it's up to each person to make the most of his pursuit. With July 4th coming, Chris Gardner reminds us all of what makes America so great.

C'est La Vie Say The Old Folks

Mrs. Zwicker and I have found ourselves in that wedding invitation no-man's land. You know what I'm talking about. Most of our friends are married, so we rarely attend weddings or Sheva Brachot for friends. When we get an invitation, it is often because we are on the parents' list rather than that or the bride or groom.

The other night, we went to such a Sheva Brachot. I would guess that the bride and groom are only a few years younger than us. The groom's parents, with whom we are friendly from shul, had invited us. We got there a little late to find most of the tables full and very few of our contemporaries there. We saw two empty seats next to our friends, Gil and Rebecca. We made a beeline to them since the few other tables at which our friends were sitting were full and the only other table was in the far corner with four people, three women and a man, all looking to be in their sixties, and not seeming to know anyone else. Alas, the seats next to Gil and Rebecca were already taken, so we headed to the corner thinking that we wouldn't be there very long.

Being friendly, we got to talking to our table-mates. The three women were the groom's mother's co-workers. The man was one of the women's husband. Frankly, he looked like the stereotypical high school shop teacher. After a few minutes of small talk, we learned that he was a career Navy Seal, now retired. During part of his employment, he was on President Richard Nixon's security detail.

We could have sat there all night talking with him, listening to his (non-classified) stories, like his first trip to Israel. He was serving in Vietnam in June of 1967 when he got an assignment to protect a Saudi oil sheik in East Jerusalem just as the Six Day War was about to start. His best line of the evening was regarding being caught in an Arab assault and having to defend himself. "We weren't invited to the party, but once we were there, we were going to dance." Of course, the line loses something when not hearing him say it in his Louisiana drawl. The man is now indeed a high school teacher, of ROTC. His stories about that were not nearly as dramatic but were equally uplifting and intriguing. It goes to show you never can tell.

Ernestine Bradley

On Monday night, I had the honor of meeting and hearing a speech by Ernestine Bradley. Mrs. Bradley is a non-Jew who was a child in Germany during the Holocaust. As she has done around the world, Mrs. Bradley spoke of her experience in confronting the atrocities that occurred in her homeland. Her speech was very compelling. I hope to read her autobiography soon.

Before the speech, a few of us on the committee that brought Mrs. Bradley to town had dinner with her. Among the many topics were her family. One person asked Mrs. Bradley how she met her husband, NBA Hall of Famer and former United States Senator Bill Bradley. Mrs. Bradley explained that she was working on an educational documentary in which various celebrities were speaking about some topic. One of the interviewees was Bill Bradley. Not being a sports fan at all, the future Mrs. Bradley didn't know much about him. They started talking and, as they say, the rest is history. Someone else asked Mrs. Bradley how her future husband performed in the video. She said that he did well, to which I added that I would have expected as much since he was the star of one my favorite commercials of all time. She had no idea what I was talking about, even after I described the commercial to her. I wonder if she went home and asked him about it or found it herself. Of course, if she is Googling herself and comes across this blog, she can find it right here:

My New Favorite Website

I know that NoahDaddy is going to love this.

40 Years Later

Courtesy of Macabee.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

The front page story this morning across the country is of the foiled plot of destruction at New York's JFK airport. Actually, not every paper has it on the front page. The New York Times, the Paper of Record, which in case you couldn't determine from its name, is a New York newpaper, relegated the news to page 37. Anyway, as I finished the article in this morning's Detroit Free Press, I was left wondering one thing that the Free Press didn't address-to which religion, if any, do these aspiring terrorists belong? Hmm, I wonder.

Mrs. Zwicker and I finally watched the season finale of 24 last night. It was a microcosm of the season as a whole. It started strong but then devolved to a mixture of some good scenes and some unnecessary personal stories that were more appropriate for a soap opera. The last twenty minutes were rather fluffy with all the tying up of loose ends although the last few minutes were great. While the show has previously addressed Jack's tortured soul, the last image of the season being a close-up of his face as he contemplated what his life had become was powerful. The silent clock was very appropos.

Mama I'm Coming Home

Great news! Emma's weight jumped 2.3 ounces to a whopping total of 3 pounds, 15.4 ounces. The doctor said that she can come home today. It looks like our counting down every night of the Omer worked in the end. Thank you to God for letting us bring home our beautiful baby, safe and sound. Thank you to all our friends and family who have been so supportive and helpful. Last but certainly not least, thank you to Mrs. Zwicker, for spending countless hours at the hospital, giving Emma just a small dose of the love and attention awaiting her at home. I love you both.

Emma Update

Sorry, especially to Dr. O's Fan, for the lack of postings the last week or so. With my whirlwind tour of Midwest hotspots like Lansing and Toledo, not to mention twice-daily visits to the hospital, I have not had much time to post. Yesterday, Mrs. Zwicker and I again walked the four-plus miles to the hospital to spend Shabbat afternoon with Emma. Don't worry, the nap streak is still alive. Just as important, Emma's weight as of this morning is 3 lbs., 11.2 oz., just 4.8 ounces short of coming home. At the rate at which she has been gaining weight, she should be home by the end of this week. As Cousin AJ pointed out the other day, we might want to slow Emma's weight gain. If she keeps going at this pace, she'll be 182 pounds by the time she's five years old.

Notes From The NICU

You probably cannot tell it from the pictures but Emma is growing less littler every day, thank God. As of last night she was at 3 lbs., 6.4 oz. She's been guzzling her milk like her daddy drank in law school, albeit a beverage of a different sort. The doctors hope to have her out of the isolette and taking all her feedings via bottle rather than a nose tube within a day or so.

The Cure

For the past two weeks, while visiting Emma in the hospital two or three times a day, it has bothered me that there are so many sick people in the world. I just wished that I could do something to help even one sick person. Early this morning, while driving to see Emma, I realized the answer when I heard Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear The Reaper." The cure had been right before my eyes all this time. More cowbell! Now i just have to find one that I can take to the hospital and play its soothing melodies as I walk through the halls. Soon enough, Sinai Grace Hospital will have no more patients. I can then go from hospital to hospital, not just in southeast Michigan but around the world, healing all who can hear the glorious cowbell.

Every Ounce Counts

Little Emma is getting slightly less little each day. As of this morning she weighed 3lbs., 2.6 oz., approximately three ounces above her birth weight. She lost a few ounces her first few days but has gained at least .4 ounce every day but one over the past eight or so days. We hope to have her home in two weeks or so, which was when she was supposed to be born. In case you're wondering, the tube you see going into Emma's nose is just for feeding. She has been drinking more and more from her bottle and less and less from the tube. The other wires are just monitors for her heartbeat and stuff like that.

Last night I changed her diaper for the first time. It wasn't the first time I had changed a diaper, just the first time since I babysat in high school. To give some perspective on how long ago that was, I specifically remembering changing the baby's diaper while watching Mike Scott pitch a no-hitter to clinch the Houston Astros a spot in the 1986 National League playoffs.

Emma Pictures

I was never a fan of people e-mailing dozens of unsolicited pictures of their children. On the other hand, some of you have asked to see more pictures of Emma. These are for you.

For those keeping score at home, Emma was 3 lbs., 1.4 oz. as of this morning. She's on her way, bli ayin hara.

Introducing Emma

This past Wednesday, also known as the day after NoahDaddy's birthday, started with a plan, an uneventful plan but a plan nonetheless. Before leaving the house that morning, I spent a few minutes starting a mix of some songs to play in Mrs. Zwicker's delivery room. After minyan, the rabbi and I scheduled a time for the following week at which we could discuss the halachot of going to the hospital vis a vis Shabbat and Yom Tov. After minyan, I went to the office so I could work for an hour or so before going with Mrs. Zwicker to the weekly doctor's visit. I assumed that I would be back in the office by 11:00 and then head to Ann Arbor to do some work at the courthouse there. Well, you know what they say about man planning and God laughing.

Because we had raised the question the previous week of how big the baby was, our doctor ordered an ultrasound for this week's visit. The doctor saw that the baby was undersized, only about three pounds, and was not getting the proper nutrients. Since we were already at 36 weeks, the doctor said it was best to just deliver the baby that day. I freely admit that I went into a panic, imagining all the worst case scenarios. Even more important than our doctor and the neonatal pediatrician assuring us that our baby would be fine in the long run, it was Mrs. Zwicker's calm that brought me back from the ledge. She's the greatest.

Before I knew it, Mrs. Zwicker went into pre-op while I went into another room to don my best surgical gear for the impending c-section. Once in the operating room, I sat with Mrs. Zwicker, holding her hand and telling her how wonderful she was. Soon enough, the doctor told me to stand and look over the curtain to see our baby enter this world. I know that billions of others have had the pleasure of witnessing such a sight, but I cannot imagine anything more amazing than seeing one's own child literally emerge from its mother. Seeing our baby's head, then shoulders, then torso and finally legs and feet, is something that I will never forget. With all the blood and the way it was facing, not to mention the tears of joy in my eyes, I could not tell until our doctor declared its gender that we had a daughter. Mrs. Zwicker said through the past nine months that our baby was a girl. Sure enough, she was correct once again, and she wasted no time in telling me right there, "I told you so."

After the staff took her to the side and cleaned her and did whatever else they do when a baby is first born, I then got to hold my daughter, right next to Mrs. Zwicker's head. As the doctor told us earlier that day, it was a very good sign that we got to stay with our daughter for a good ten minutes or so. At least I think that's how long it was. I'm usually pretty good at keeping track of time without a clock but I was totally lost in the glory of the moment. By the way, I learned later that the time of birth was 2:25.

While Mrs. Zwicker was recuperating, I went upstairs to the neo-natal intensive care unit (pronounced "nik-you" by those in the know) to see our baby girl. She was long and lean, sixteen inches and a tad under three pounds to be exact, but otherwise healthy. She also had a full head of blonde hair. Okay, I will now pause so you can make your "she already has more hair than you do" cracks.

Mrs. Zwicker and I originally planned, if we were to have a girl, on naming her at a siyyum that NoahDaddy and I would make on our impending conclusion of Tractate Moed Katan. Well, with our daughter being a few weeks from going home so she could gain weight first, not to mention NoahDaddy's chronic absences from learning, we decided to just name her the next morning. We still plan on having the siyyum, at which point I will expound on whether one can console someone during the month after the loss of a wife if the widower has already remarried.

The next morning at shul, I gave our little girl her Hebrew name, Chava Emunah. Chava was Mrs. Zwicker's grandmother while Emunah is a name we just liked because it embodied the faith we did our best to maintain while trying to have a child. That same morning we announced the English name, Emma Faye. Both names come from Mrs. Zwicker's grandmothers.

The last few days have been an emotional roller coaster. There is nothing as amazing as seeing and holding our beautiful little Emma. On Friday night, Mrs. Zwicker and I each placed our hands on Emma's head and, with tears in our eyes, blessed her, asking that she follow in our Jewish foremothers' footsteps. On Shabbat afternoon, notwithstanding my less than stellar voice, I soothed Emma by singing to her and then learning the weekly Torah portion next to her incubator. I made sure she heard the part about honoring one's mother and father. Despite all of those and other moments, it has been to tough to leave her in the NICU. We cannot wait until Emma comes home with us for good.

Here is a picture of Emma at one day old in my arms. I'll try to post more pictures soon.

Imus-Kennedy or Condit?

This past weekend, the only story on the news was the Don Imus imbroglio. Among the various discussions on op-ed pages and the Sunday morning talk shows, including on ESPN, was what does the future hold for the unemployed Imus. Is his career really done or does he just get a time-out for a year or two before getting a new gig on satellite radio, like Opie & Anthony? All of a sudden, with the tragedy at Virginia Tech yesterday, the Imus story is officially yesterday's news. The question, though, remains. History is not necessarily an indication, as the stories of Ted Kennedy and Gary Condit reveal, but it will be interesting to see whether, as cynical as it sounds, Don Imus can now get some breathing room.

On July 18, 1969, Ted Kennedy was in his first full term as a United States Senator. He was driving home from a party with Mary Jo Kopechne, a campaign worker, on Martha's Vineyard. For reasons known only to him, Kennedy's car drove into a pond. Kennedy was able to escape but Kopechne was not so fortunate. She drowned. Legitimate questions regarding Kennedy's culpability in Kopechne's death arose immediately. Just a few days later though, Neil Armstrong took his giant leap for mankind and Kennedy's connection to Kopechne became much less important. While the questions regarding Kopechne's death still abound today and likely have prevented Kennedy from ever mounting a serious presidential bid, there is no doubt that he has risen to great heights in American politics. Historians and commentators have long speculated whether Kennedy's career could have survived without the overshadowing the Kopechne incident received from the moon landing.

On April 30, 2001, United States Congressman Gary Condit was in his sixth term when congressional intern Chandra Levy disappeared. During the investigation into her absence, word that Levy and Condit were having an affair surfaced. He immediately became a suspect, if not in the eyes of the police, then at least in the media. While he never faced any charges, Condit's career was effectively done. The media feeding frenzy may have lasted longer than four months had the 9/11 attacks not occurred. On that fateful morning, Condit immediately became nothing more than a footnote in the history books.

This is not to suggest in any way that Don Imus was happy to see the Virginia Tech massacre occur. I am also in no way equating Kopechne or Levy's death with Imus' statements. I am also in no way equating the moon landing and/or 9/11 with the Virginia Tech massacre. It just raises the question of what effect, if any, it will have on Imus' career. Time will tell.

A Jew Walks Into A Bar

I am proud to announce that I passed the Florida bar examination. Getting the news wasn't as memorable as when I learned of passing Michigan over twelve years ago, when I found the important letter in the mailbox and literally opened and read it standing by the curb in the rain. The news also didn't come with as much anxiety since I would still have a job regardless of the results. Even so, it's great news.

The only drawback is that there is no other attorney in Florida who shares my first and last name, thereby preventing me from blaming my indiscretions on someone else.

Pot Meet Kettle, Part Two

If Al Sharpton is good at one thing, besides for his being a shameless huckster in the race business, it's creating sympathy for someone who doesn't otherwise deserve it. When Don Imus' "nappy headed hos" flap first erupted, I didn't really give it much thought. After all, I was never a fan of his. While living in New York, I was partial to Howard Stern. Since returning to Detroit, my morning talk show favorite has been Drew & Mike. Imus just never interested me. He always struck me as angry and mocking. The controversy that he created therefore didn't really concern me too much.

That was before Sharpton once again assumed the position of father confessor for all Americans of color. As I have previously written on the Zlog here, Sharpton repeatedly gets a pass on his own virulent racism. In fact, Sharpton's racist past is much more injurious to others than Imus' recent comment. Sharpton's actions have led to deaths and the irreversible trashing of good people's reputations. On the other hand, I doubt that there were many people who now think any worse of black women in general and Rutgers basketball players in particular than they did before Imus opened his big mouth.

Post-Passover Ramblings

-On the second night of Passover, Mrs. Zwicker and I started counting not just the Omer but also the countdown to the scheduled arrival of Baby Zwicker. While at the in-laws' place this past weekend, we started discussing the custom of expectant fathers opening the Aron Hakodesh in the last month of pregnancy. When Mother-in-law asked for the reason behind the custom and I explained that it's supposed to be an omen for a easy opening through which the baby can exit, her look and reaction-"that's quite the visual"-made us laugh. We quickly moved to a new topic.

(Spoiler alert for the next paragraph)

-While "24" dragged a little after a strong start to the season, the show has definitely gotten its mojo back. On the other hand, I will not be happy if the rest of the season revolves around saving Audrey. I think I speak for most "24" fans when I say that we all knew she was alive but wish otherwise. My theory is that the United States gave Audrey to the Chinese as security and bait for Jack's return once his mission was complete. Now that Jack has secured the remaining missiles, he has to risk returning to a Chinese prison if he wants to rescue Audrey.

-Mrs. Zwicker and I caught "Reign Over Me" over the recent holiday. We gave it all four thumbs up. As I have previously written, Adam Sandler can do drama, although his uncanny resemblance to mid-80's Bob Dylan was a little distracting. I wonder if it was intentional. Anyway, Sandler was great, as was Don Cheadle, which is no surprise.

-It is utterly ridiculous that the Toronto Blue Jays pulled the below ad starring Frank Thomas. Apparently, people thought it promoted child abuse. The ad is simply hilarious. Someone who beats a kid because of this commercial is like, according to Dennis Miller, the teenagers who supposedly committed suicide in the 1980's after listening to heavy metal music. If someone takes his life because of anything Ozzy Osbourne has to say, that person is probably so far over the edge already anyway.