As our Monday post indicated, it’s that time of year when we have new staff starting at the ISJL. During orientation we have time to get to know each other, sit around lunch tables discussing our former homes (Florida, Washington, New York, Wisconsin!) when it inevitably comes up—regional differences.
I started using this phrase during my first year as a fellow. I was making my summer visits and found that I was having the same conversations over and over again.
“So Rachel, where are you from?”
“Oh my goodness, it’s so cold there! How are you adjusting!”
“Um.. air conditioning?”
Soon I was having the “the temperature varies in different parts of the country” and “people are interested in different sports teams” conversations over and over again with new host families throughout the region. And so the “regional differences” title stuck.
Someone else must have known it was Orientation Week because this great article with regional dialect surveys was recently posted on the Business Weekly website. Joshua Katz, a Ph. D student in statistics at North Carolina State University, just published a group of awesome visualizations of a linguistic survey that looks at how Americans pronounce words.
It’s a perfect example of the typical regional differences dialogue. My particular favorite is the survey for “pecan.” Early in my ISJL tenure someone on a visit told me the way I pronounced it was not the ingredient featured in pecan pie but that a “pee-can” was something you take on a fishing trip. I always think of the anecdote before I utter the word aloud!
I had never even heard of crawfish, yet alone tried to eat them, before I moved to Mississippi, so I’m not sure my pronunciation would gave mattered. But after spending time in Louisiana, I know how delicious they are!
And of course y’all is always a heated topic of conversation in this office of transplants. I myself could never pick it up.
The diverse make up of our staff makes for a really interesting summer, as new interns and fellows join our team and spend time in the South. I’m going to make sure I figure out where everyone places themselves on these surveys. Where do you fit on the map?
I’m involved with a wonderful collection of people in Jackson who work hard to put on Figment, a participatory arts festival that we like to describe as an “art pot luck” party. Artists are asked to install pieces that encourage some kind of artistic participation.
My project was inspired during a meeting when the Figment team was trying to figure out a way to create a border around the festival, which was taking place on the streets of Jackson’s Midtown neighborhood. Earlier this year I had received information about a wonderful exhibit at the Yeshiva University Museum. It’s a Thin Line was an exhibit about the Manhattan eruv and included a fascinating short video about its history and significance. Inspired by this very public and creative Jewish tradition, I thought of adapting the practice for my Figment project.
My idea was to create a Figment Eruv that enforces the 11 principles of Figment within its borders. Really an inverse of the Jewish tradition, this eruv was intended to be a place in which people are reminded to keep the rules.
An eruv in Jackson, Mississippi? Certainly the first of its kind and I was ready for the challenge. I did a little research and figured out it would take about 3,000 feet of pink masonry twine, a 15 foot ladder and one handsome brave husband to climb said ladder. Over three days it took us about 5 hours to hang all of the string. I gained a new appreciation for ladder safety.
On the Tuesday afternoon before the festival, some guys who own the local garage along the route came out to see what we were doing. I worried they would be upset that we were stringing along the side of their building but the three men just looked up. Without questioning why we were doing it, they immediately began advising us on the best place to wind the string and how to avoid electrocuting ourselves on the transformer.
I’m glad they were amenable because it was important to me that this eruv not create barriers or borders with negative connotations within the neighborhood and its residents. I wanted it to create an inclusive temporary sacred space that separates the joyful Figment world from the ordinary and mundane.
During the weekend I had a great time watching visitors discover the eruv. They would bend down to read a short description of the project, then stand up, look to the sky and smile and they circled around to see how the string encompassed the area.
I was happy to have brought a secular interpretation of this often obscure religious practice to my neighborhood. Even my friends that have a pretty good Jewish education, probably because of being friends with me, had never heard of an eruv. It was a neat chance to talk with people about the tradition and why it works in this particular occasion.
Because one of the principles of Figment is “Leave No Trace”, on Sunday I pulled most of the string down. A few small pink knots were stuck up on the electric poles, tied around nails and staples. I decided not to worry about it. Much like a Jewish eruv represents the commandment to keep Shabbat, those tiny pink knots will represent the principles of Figment and be a reminder to sneak in just a little bit of that creative Figment spirit into ordinary mundane days.
Last week I had the pleasure of attending a museum education workshop put on by the American Association for State and Local History. The training session drew a wonderful and diverse group of participants from museums around the country, and it was facilitated by effective and enthusiastic teachers from the Creative Learning Factory. I left with some great ideas for future museum programs, and I highly recommend looking into their workshops!
As an added bonus, the workshop was held at the Jewish Museum of Maryland in Baltimore. Having met members of their staff at past Council for American Jewish Museum conferences, I had looked forward to visiting the museum, which shares a campus with two historic synagogue buildings.
Alas, I was too busy making new friends and learning new skills to thoroughly document my trip, and I only took one photo. It’s from the Voices of Lombard Street exhibit, and something about this man with the chickens just yearned to be shared.
My favorite part of the tour was a wonderful exhibit called the The Synagogue Speaks in the basement of the Lloyd Street Synagogue. The building, built in 1845, is one of the oldest standing synagogues in the United States. In recent years, renovation and preservation projects have led to new discoveries about the history of the structure, which has housed three different congregations over the centuries, including one that happened to be Catholic. The Jewish Museum of Maryland’s exhibit displays fascinating artifacts, videos and interactive stations that explain the process of uncovering the history. Our visit to the recently excavated temple mikveh prompted interesting discussion among the majority non-Jewish group.
While Maryland is not part of our territory, the museum tells a story that shares a number of topics and themes with the Southern Jewish history that we work on ourselves: immigration and acculturation, economics and business, congregational transitions, regional food and culture, and so on. It is always a treat to see the great work being done at Jewish museums around the country!
Do you have a favorite Jewish museum?