Shine On, Chanukah

No politics or economics or social activism this time, just joyous wishes for a Happy Chanukah on the first night.   It doesn’t matter if you’re not Jewish; good wishes and good will are not bound by religion or nationality. Or they shouldn’t be. In previous years, it’s been my tradition to post a song for each of the eight nights of Chanukah, but first, just a little about the holiday.

It’s ancient, dating back to the second century BC and Chanukah is one of the “They tried to kill us, but we survived” holidays. The very short version, the one that would curl your bible teacher’s hair, is that the Greeks were massacring the Jews and defiling the temple but the Jews triumphed, survived annihilation and rededicated the Temple. Oil was needed in the Temple for the candelabra, and while there was only enough for one day, it lasted for eight.

The holiday of Chanukah commemorates the miracle of lights, of the oil, which lasted for eight days, not victory in battle; Jews don’t glorify or celebrate war, or we’re not supposed to.  To commemorate this miracle, we light a candle each night for eight nights. If you want the longer version or to know more, or need to know the blessings when you light the menorah, you can go here.

I love being part of a tradition that stretches back over many centuries, love that sense of a direct link to a celebration of the human spirit. Also, I like gelt and latkes.

Chanukah celebrates a miracle; specifically a miracle of light which increases each night with an additional candle. It’s not, I think, a coincidence that cultures and religions around this hemisphere all have December celebrations that coincide with the days becoming longer in the third week of December, a fact that enhances, rather than diminishes the holiness of holidays during this time.

But I promised you a song. I’m a big fan of the outstanding a cappella group, The Maccabeats. Up until now, they’ve released songs for the Jewish holidays based on popular material, but for the first time they’ve written something original for Chanukah, Shine. If you enjoy it, please do share it.

Miracles don’t have to be big. You don’t have to part a body of water or provide food for a crowd. You can give to the charity of your choice, donate a day of your time to the service of your community, bring a bag of kibble to your local animal shelter, or a plate of hot food to an elderly neighbor. Even if these are small gestures, they’re still little miracles for someone.

Whatever your faith, shine bright this Chanukah.  Make your own miracles. For the next eight days. For each day, all year.

The dunes, a beach, global warming and a world of damage.

I’ve gone to some of the best beaches in the world. I’ve been to Rio de Janeiro and to the Gulf Coast. I’ve traveled up and down the Pacific edge of California and been to the rocky coast of Maine. I’ve even summered in the Hamptons, but I’ve never seen any stretch of ocean more beautiful than in Queens.

Yes, Queens. More specifically, the Rockaway Peninsula. Our favorite stretch of beach is somewhat remote. Pristine. No amenities. No boardwalk, lifeguards, concessions, and bathroom facilities are a 10-15 walk inland from the beach. There’s little in the way of parking and even less access without a car, so it’s not surprising that the beach at Fort Tilden is usually fairly empty.

Fort Tilden was built as a permanent army fortification in 1917, but has been the site of temporary military installations since the War of 1812. It was finally decommissioned in 1994 and one of my old neighbors in Battery Park City was the last brigadier general associated with it. Today, the National Parks Service administers the land, which encompasses 98 acres of wooded growth, abandoned barracks and gun batteries and several miles of ocean beach. In the summer, it’s a favorite spot for naked people and surfers and throughout the year it’s visited by birders, fishermen, photographers and us.

In addition to a few parking areas, mostly reserved for local Little League and soccer teams, there’s a narrow roadway paralleling the ocean, just wide enough for a Jeep or a couple of bicycles. Abandoned barracks are dotted along the landside, and massive dunes separate the roadway from the beach itself. 

The Rockaway Peninsula is one of the areas hardest hit by Sandy and we weren’t able to visit Fort Tilden for nearly a month. When we did, we drove past the massive, downed trees to the narrow roadway that parallels the ocean and immediately knew that something was wrong. Bob figured it out seconds before I did: the dunes were gone.

Those massive dunes were swept inland for over a quarter of a mile. Those massive dunes had protected the few active houses and buildings within the park and even the abandoned barracks, structurally iffy for years, were still standing. Dunes are what made the difference in Long Island beachfront communities like Lido Beach, mostly intact, and the duneless Long Beach, severely damaged. 

This is just the beginning of what we can expect; season after season, year after year, it’s likely to get worse. Here’s a thing. Water temperatures are rising for real because of something else that’s very real: Global Warming. Rising water temperatures mean more storms, and with or without dunes, the loss of lives and homes will be more severe year after year. Sure, there have been floods before our recent era. Galveston, Texas was literally decimated by a hurricane in 1900, and the Johnstown Flood occurred in 1889, but we’re seeing a sharp escalation in the severity and frequency of storms.

There’s a Hebrew blessing to be recited upon seeing an ocean, an acknowledgment of their immense power. Storm surges, which are what caused so much damage from Sandy, are temporary demonstrations of that power; the water levels return to normal, leaving uncovered the debris and devastation. Rising sea levels are for keeps and so is the damage. This is an app that shows coastal cities and what they would look like at various permanent sea level increases. Many cities would disappear.

Here’s a thing: cities are built on waterways, both coastal and inland, and not because of the pretty views. They develop where land is fertile, boats can dock, and waterways provide transportation both for people and goods. And it’s not just oceans that rise; I’ve been to Pittsburgh and have seen flood level markers on downtown buildings nearly over my head.

New York, Cleveland, Dallas, St. Louis, San Francisco, Pittsburgh, Chicago, Miami, and Louisville may have little in common, except that they are all built in proximity to bodies of water. Water that can rise, surge, and inundate the cities they support.

Now, no matter where you live, it’s always monsoon season.

If you think this is scary, want to do something and have a little extra money, this is a top-rated environmental NGO addressing global warming, among other issues. This is another one. And there's always The Sierra Club.

All photos © Eleanor Lang

All photos taken at Fort Tilden