Making a joyful noise unto The Lord

Happy Rosh Hashanah to the happiest man I know. His name is Yehuda Ferris, and he's the rabbi at Chabad House in Berkeley.
Like other Jews all over the world, he's busy cleaning his house and stocking up on sweets in anticipation of the holiday, which begins next Monday at sundown.
"No vinegar, green apples, pickles or herring," he says. "We'll only eat sweet things, to express our wish for a sweet year."
Rosh Hashanah is the start of the High Holy Days, which culminate 10 days later on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.
Jews believe that during this period God decides the fate of the world.
"He's taking inventory," says Ferris. "Running the world is a business, like any other. If there's a profit, he'll keep the world going for another year. If not, goodbye world."
But God doesn't measure profit by dollars and cents. He measures it by good deeds, called mitzvahs. There are 613 mitzvahs in all. (Remember that number. It'll pop up again.)
Some mitzvahs are about our relationship with each other, such as caring for widows and orphans. Others are about our relationship with God, such as observing the dietary laws.
"Our job is to do as many mitzvahs as we can in this 10-day period. But they must be performed with a joyous heart, not out of duty," says Ferris.
So what makes him so happy?
He belongs to a branch of Judaism called Hassidism, which was founded about 280 years ago by Rabbi Israel ben Eliezer, better known as the Ba'al Shem Tov (Master of the Good Name).
The Ba'al Shem Tov came along at a time when Judaism was in the doldrums, after suffering a series of brutal pogroms in Eastern Europe. Many Jews responded to the outside pressure by turning inward and devoting their lives to studying the Talmud. But the Ba'al Shem Tov went the other way.
Though an eminent Talmudic scholar himself, he said a personal relationship with God is more important than book learning, and even a simple, illiterate person can have one.
He called that relationship "cleaving to God;" and for his followers, it's an ecstatic experience.
"Even something as simple as tying your shoelaces or changing your baby's diaper can bring you closer to God, if it's done in the right spirit," says Ferris. "If you stop and think about all the blessings The Lord has given us, it's just overwhelming. All you can do is laugh and sing and dance with gratitude and joy."
To Ferris, all the wonders of the universe can be seen in a single flower petal. It's the same epiphany that the hippies were trying to achieve by taking LSD back in the '60s. But Ferris doesn't need any drugs, and the high doesn't wear off after a few hours.
Rosh Hashanah will kick off at exactly 6:13 p.m. Monday with a joyful - even raucous - celebration at the Bancroft Hotel. The festivities will include prayers, jokes, singing, dancing and symbolic foods such as pomegranates, which are sweet to the taste and contain exactly 613 seeds. The partying will go on until the wee small hours of the morning.
Not everyone thinks such enthusiasm is seemly. Even in his own lifetime, the Ba'al Shem Tov was criticized by the rabbinical establishment, who said carrying on like this is undignified, even crazy. This is what he replied:
"Once, in a house, there was a wedding festival. The musicians sat in a corner and played their instruments, the guests danced to the music and were merry, and the house was filled with joy.
"But a deaf man passed outside the house. He looked in the window and saw people whirling around the room, leaping and throwing their arms.
"'See how they fling themselves about!' he cried. 'It is a house filled with madmen!' For he could not hear the music to which they danced."

End of an era

Sunday was a bittersweet day on Solano Avenue.
It was sweet because the annual Solano Stroll was as great as ever.
But it was also sad because Walker's Pie Shop closed its doors on Sunday, after 44 years of providing Albany, Berkeley and El Cerrito residents with a welcome throwback to a kinder, gentler time.
Eating at Walker's was like going to Grandma's for dinner, with homemade popovers instead of bread, old-fashioned rib-sticking entrees, and those incredible pies made from the Walker family's secret flaky piecrust recipe.
Fresh-faced Albany High grads waited tables, Walker family pictures adorned the walls, and the waitresses threw surprise birthday parties for elderly customers who otherwise wouldn't have anyone to celebrate with.
The restaurant was founded by Doug Walker and his sister Dolly, who learned the food business from their dad, Scotty, proprietor of the old Heather & Thistle in Berkeley. The son of immigrants, Scotty taught his children the traditional immigrant values: work hard, give good value and treasure your family.
When Doug and Dolly were little, they would go to the restaurant after school and sit in the back, doing their homework. As they got older they began helping out, starting as dishwashers and working their way up.
After their father's death they founded Walker's Pie Shop in 1964. When they decided to retire in 1999, they had to decide whom to sell the restaurant to.
Many lucrative offers rolled in, but they turned them all down and sold to their chef, Jorge Sandoval, instead.
Jorge came to this country from his native Guatemala in 1982 and got an entry-level job at Walker's as a dishwasher. By 1989 he was running the kitchen. Ten years after that, he and his wife, Emma, owned the place.
Their daughter, Emmeli, now 11, came there every day after school and sat in back, doing her homework - just as Doug and Dolly used to do when they were her age.
When they sold the restaurant to Jorge, I asked Doug, "Why him?"
"Because," Doug replied, "he reminds me of my father."
For the last nine years, Jorge and Emma did their best to keep Walker's afloat. Jorge worked second and third jobs, and Emmeli even offered to contribute the money she's saving up for her college education. (Her parents turned her down.) But it was not to be.
On Sunday, many customers stopped by for the final goodbye. Everyone hugged, and everyone was crying.
We reminisced about the old days, when the staff would close the shutters after work, so nobody could see them from the street, and have huge pie fights with the day's leftover pies. (Tip: Use cream pies. The stains are easier to get out of your clothes than berry pies.)
And the 1995 wedding of Walker's waitress Melinda Potts and Fatapple's waiter Matt McCormick. Longtime customers of both eateries attended the ceremony, feasting on ham by Walker's and wedding cake by Fatapples.
We drank a toast to my favorite waitress, Gina Niemeier, who died in 2002 of mesothelioma. I will always remember the big smile she had for everyone who walked in the door and her infallible memory for which customers liked extra popovers and which ones liked extra ice cream on their pies.
And we remembered waiter Remo Reggi, the nicest young man you'd ever want to meet, who was murdered at age 20 on Sept. 11, 2005, by a gang of carjackers who have never been caught.
Walker's closing has affected Emmeli most of all. She was only three when her parents bought the place, and it's been her second home ever since.
But she's holding her head high. Last week she wrote this letter to her hero:
"Dear Barack Obama,
"Next time we will send you money. Right now we lost our jobs and we can't afford to give you any, we are all sorry. But to let you know we are going to vote for you always. By the way, this is an 11 year old talking to you I am in 6 grade.
"Thank you for understanding us.
"Always,
"Emmeli Sandoval
"California."

McCain's gamble

The pundits are fond of saying that the vice presidential candidates don't make much difference in presidential elections, but this time could be different.
To put it crassly, the odds of a president dying in office are getting shorter and shorter.
For almost 150 years, we had presidents dying every 20 years: Harrison in 1841, Taylor in 1850, Lincoln in 1865, Garfield in 1886, McKinley in 1901, Harding in 1923, Roosevelt in 1945 and Kennedy in 1963.
But it's been 45 years since the last time. And this year both presidential candidates are at risk: Obama because of the ever-present threat of assassination, and McCain because of his age. At 72, he would be the oldest president ever elected; and because of the torture he suffered during the Vietnam war he's probably older, medically speaking, than his chronological age.
So it behooves the electorate to take a closer look than usual at the vice presidential candidates this time because one of them very well could end up in the White House.
On one hand, you have Joe Biden, chairman of the Senate Foreign Affairs Committee and former chairman of the Judiciary Committee, which gives him great expertise in two of our most urgent problems: America's isolation in the world community and the politicization of the justice system. Whatever you think of him, he clearly has the gravitas to step into the top spot if, God forbid, it becomes necessary.
And Sarah Palin? Someone who has been in office for only two years? With zero experience in national or foreign affairs? Does anyone really think she'd be ready for that 3 a.m. phone call?
It's clearly a cynical attempt to appeal to disgruntled Hillary voters. But I think even Republican women will be offended by McCain's implicit assumption that any female candidate, no matter how lightweight, will do.

Two new arrivals at Fairyland

Children's Fairyland in Oakland is celebrating the arrival of two new four-footed residents: Twinkle the lamb and Dori the Shetland pony.
Twinkle, who is only five months old, was slated for the slaughterhouse until Fairyland offered her a home. And she's already fitting in like an old-timer.
"She's as sweet as can be," said Yvonne Backman, Fairyland's animal caregiver. "Her mother rejected her at birth, so she was bottle fed, which means she really connects with humans."
Twinkle is so people-friendly, Fairyland is featuring her as the "Animal of the Day" on weekends, taking her out of the corral to the grassy area in front of the duck pond, where children can come up and pet her, up close and personal.
"She's so good with them," said Backman. "For her, it's a chance to do two of her favorite things at the same time - munch grass and get petted."
Dori, who is 13, is also wonderful with the little tykes.
"That's no surprise because she was the children's pony at the Chabot Equestrian Center for the last three years," Backman said. "And before that, her job was giving rides to disabled kids."
Despite her gentleness with children, Dori has a mind of her own when it comes to other animals.
"We call her 'the diva' because she likes to have things her way," said Backman. "For instance, Juan the alpaca always used to have his special 'pacing zone,' where he could have a clear view of the goats, whom he loves.
"But Dori likes that spot, too, because that's the main thoroughfare where people walk by the corral, and she loves to get petted. Needless to say, Dori has won that disagreement."
The only downside for Dori is that she's been put on a diet.
"She has a huge appetite, which is typical of Shetland ponies. But the vet says she needs to lose 50 pounds," Backman said.
Meanwhile, Dori and Twinkle's predecessors, Coco the pony and her totally devoted friend, Bobo the sheep, who delighted Fairyland's pint-sized visitors for 20 and 11 years, respectively, are enjoying their retirement at Goats 'R' Us in Briones.
"They've been sleeping outdoors from the day they got there, and loving every minute of it," said Backman. "They're not on a schedule; they come and go as they please. I think they're as happy in their new home as Twinkle and Dori are in theirs."
The best news for Coco is that she's made friends with three young stallions in the neighboring pasture.
"They only have eyes for her, and vice versa," Backman. "She spends a lot of time at the fence flirting with them - swishing her tail, strutting back and forth and calling to them. It's a real May-December romance."
This is Coco's first chance to bond with other equines since 2006, when the Oakland Police Department eliminated its mounted patrol unit, whose stables were located next to Fairyland in Lakeside Park. For years, Coco's best friend was a huge - 17 hands - thoroughbred named Sanchez.
"Every morning before the park opened, I'd let her out of her paddock, and she'd run over to the chain link fence separating us from the OPD stable," said Backman. "She and Sanchez would just stand there for hours, nuzzling noses through the fence. I'm glad to know she's going to have that kind of friendship again."
And how's Bobo doing?
"He doesn't care where he is, as long as he's with Coco. "

I come in peace

These pictures were taken by National Geographic photographer Norbert Rosing, who encountered a wild polar bear coming upon tethered sled dogs in the wilds of Canada 's Hudson Bay . He was sure that he was going to see the end of his dogs when the bear wandered in. The polar bear returned every night that week to play with the dogs.

The political ad we'd all like to see

My friend, Tom Devine, proposes this TV commercial. Granted, it's sheer fantasy, and completely unrealistic, but wouldn't it be nice?

Obama: I’m Barack Obama

McCain: And I’m John McCain

Obama: We’re speaking to you together because we want to set the record straight about some lies that you may have heard.

McCain: For instance, some people have alleged that Senator Obama is a Muslim, or attended a Muslim school as a child, or is unpatriotic, or sympathetic to terrorists. None of that is true.

Obama: And some people have alleged that Senator McCain wants to dismantle Social Security, or that he fathered a black baby out of wedlock, or that his war service was something other than honorable and heroic. None of those charges is true.

Obama: These lies are stitched together by unscrupulous political operatives who want this campaign to be about race and fear, about old hatreds and prejudices. And whether they seem to reinforce the left or the right, they undermine our democracy. Neither John nor I wants to benefit from lies.

McCain: Both of us are honorable and patriotic Americans who want the best for our country and for our children’s future. We disagree on the best ways to achieve those goals, but we both love America, and we both are equally committed to the United States, its Constitution, and its people.

Obama: So we are asking you, the American people, to ignore these lies, and to focus instead on our policy proposals and differences - the REAL differences.

Both: THAT’S WHAT DEMOCRACY IS ABOUT.

Obama: I’m Barack Obama, and I approve this message.

McCain: I’m John McCain, and I approve this message.

A little love for The Snake - and Ray Guy, too

As I'm watching several great players, including Fred Dean, Darrell Green and Art Monk, being inducted into the pro football Hall of Fame this afternoon on ESPN, I can't help wondering: How come Ray Guy and Kenny Stabler aren't up there, too?
Granted, I'm prejudiced because I live in Oakland Raider territory, but these two are no-brainers.
Ray Guy was the best punter ever, period. He kicked 'em long, and he kicked 'em high - so high, in fact, that one time the other team took the ball to the sideline and had it tested for helium. (It was clean.)
At the 1976 Pro Bowl he became the first punter to hit the Louisiana Superdome video screen, forcing officials to raise the screen from 90 to 200 feet.
He not only had power, he had finesse. He was especially adept at landing the ball inside the 20, without it going into the end zone for a touchback. He did that 210 times, and that's not counting his first three seasons, before the NFL kept track of this statistic.
Perhaps his greatest punt went for only 27 yards. It was late in the first half of Super Bowl XVIII, when the Raiders stalled just outside of field goal range. Guy landed his punt on the Redskins' 12, pinning them deep in their territory for the rest of the half.
The bottom line: He punted 1,049 times, and not one was ever run back for a touchdown.
So why isn't he in the hall? Simple: No punter has ever been chosen. The selection committee has a prejudice against such "specialty" players.
But if field position is as important as coaches like Bill Parcells say it is, why shouldn't punters be in the hall? Field goal kickers are.
As Joe Horrigan, the historian of the Pro Football Hall of Fame said of Guy, "He's is the first punter you could look at and say, 'He won games.'"
That should earn him a ticket to Canton, in my book.
And the snub is just as outrageous for The Snake. He was Joe Montana before Joe Montana. Maybe his skills were at a slightly lower level, but only slightly.
He was the king of the last-minute comebacks. There was no other quarterback you wanted to have the ball in his hands with the game on the line and time running out.
He didn't have the strongest arm in the world, but he was deadly accurate. And, like Montana, he thrived under pressure. The bigger the game, the better he played.
I can see him now, standing almost motionless in the pocket, waiting, waiting, waiting for his receivers to get open and then, suddenly, Zap! Like a snake striking, he'd zip the ball to Cliff Branch, Dave Casper or Fred Biletnikoff for another last-second, game-winning TD.
And, like Montana, he had a knack for finding ways to win. Some of the most famous plays in football history are Stabler touchdowns.
Like the "Holy Roller" game at San Diego in 1978. Trailing by a touchdown with 10 seconds to go at the Chargers 24, he was about to be sacked. So he "fumbled" the ball forward, and it rolled and rolled until Casper finally fell on it in the end zone for the game winner.
Here's the call of the late, great Bill King: "There's nothing real in the world anymore! The Raiders have won the football game! Fifty-two thousand people, minus a few lonely Raider fans, are stunned! The Chargers are standing, looking at each other, looking at the sky. They don't believe it! Nobody believes it! I don't know if the Raiders believe it! It's not real! A man would be a fool to ever try and write a drama and make you believe it. And now, this one will be relived - forever! Bitterly here in San Diego, joyfully in Oakland. Final score: Oakland 21, San Diego 20!"
Then there was the "Ghost to the Post," a 42-yard beauty to Casper with less than a minute to go, setting up the game-tying field goal in the final seconds of a playoff game against the Colts in 1977, which the Raiders ultimately won in double overtime on another Stabler-to-Casper pass.
Before the play, everyone in the stadium was freaking out - including his own coach, John Madden, as the two of them were discussing which play to run. Stabler calmly looked at the frenzied crowd and drawled, "The fans are sure getting their money's worth today."
Or the "Sea of Hands" playoff game against Miami in 1974. With the seconds running out and Dolphin linebacker Vern Den Herder dragging him down by his legs, Stabler flipped the ball toward the left side of the front of the end zone, where running back Clarence Davis outfought a "sea of hands" of three Dolphin defenders to grab it for a 28-26 victory that knocked Miami out of the playoffs after they had won the last two Super Bowls.
Only The Snake would have dared such a pass. And only The Snake would have made it. He should have been in the hall long ago.