On the road again...

I'm traveling again, for simchas , also to visit kids and grandchildren, laden with gifts etc. Melbourne airport is not bad but, as with every airport, the security lines are interminable. Now they have body scanners. Also random checks for explosive residue. A blessing: unlike the US, you don't have to take you shoes off. That slows things down even more as we fat westerners struggle to get them on and off. But they are really strict about carrying liquids. Anyway.
Every time I'm in these lines I reflect on why we have to do this. Who made it all necessary?
Why can we not carry on board as much as a pair of tweezers, let alone a Swiss Army knife or Leatherman, both of which I have had confiscated in the past? And for a while we all had plastic cutlery until someone came to their senses and realized that you could turn anything into a weapon. Well, of course that was after 9/11, where box cutters were put to lethal use.
Why are we not allowed to send luggage unaccompanied? Why is luggage X-rayed? Lockerbie. And why the shoes? Richard Reid, the shoe bomber. And the body scanner? Well, that's so we don't have to strip down to our undies because of the Nigerian underpants bomber who set himself on fire a few years back. And the liquids? Wasn't there a couple with a baby who were trying to assemble a bomb on board a flight using liquid disguised as baby formula? That just might be the sickest example of all. Lucky most of these people are idiots and got caught. Not so fortunate were those on Pan Am flight 103 in 1988, who were murdered by Libyan terrorists who were themselves not on the flight. Also not so fortunate was the airline itself which went belly-up soon after this atrocity.
And lest we forget the hijackings of the 70's which resulted in locked cockpits and the beginnings of all the security measures.
But what is the one thing these crimes all have in common? Think hard! Right, they were all perpetrated by Muslims. Mostly Arab Muslims. Yep, they weren't Buddhists or Jews or Catholics or Falun Gong or Zoroastrians. Or IRA or ETA or Tamil Tigers. They were of various ethnicities perhaps, and different birthplaces, and at least one was a convert. To Islam, the religion of peace, excuse me while I choke on that lie.
But when it comes to the Middle East reportage, why is it always the Jews who are the meanies and the poor Arab Muslims who are the victims?
Something to think about. Gotta board now.

Siman tov umazel tov

I'm at a wedding and I shouldn't be posting because I've had a few mojitos, but I wanted to share my delight in the fact that two young Jewish people have committed to each other under the chuppah in front of two witnesses in the presence of a young Chabad rabbi. (Sorry, had to stop to eat a delicious little vegetarian quiche). There was a ring from the chossen to the kallah and she walked around the chossen 7 times. It was, in short, a 100% kosher orthodox chuppah. The reception is 100% kosher too.
Who cares if the song played after the chuppah was 'I Feel Good' by James Brown. Who cares that the bride wasn't as modestly dressed as I would prefer. Who cares that the bridesmaids ditto. And that nobody knew the Sheva Brachot apart from the grandfather of the bride who said the second one. The Chazzan said the rest. And who cares that he didn't have much of a voice for a Chazzan. Who cares that the parents of the groom were dancing together under the chuppah while waiting for the bride to come out. And who cares that half the guests aren't (obviously) Jewish and some of the ladies are dressed like ladies of the night and some if the men wouldn't know what a yarmulke was if it bit them. Who cares. And I see a lesbian couple here too. But it's a Jewish wedding.
A Jewish wedding. A Jewish couple.
The bride - a grandchild of Holocaust survivors. Their first grandchild whose wedding they have - the only word for it - achieved. Thank G-d.
And thank G-d for Chabad rabbis who , while being sensitive to the vibe of their largely not-very-religious congregation and while cracking jokes with the groom under the chuppah, insist on 100% kosher observances of all the holy laws of marriage. For I have seen too many chuppahs where the rabbi seemed to be pandering to the silliness of some couples rather than giving them much-needed direction and instruction.
Please G-d that the next generation should have such a wedding. I'm not sure of the chances but we can always hope.
I'm going to dance now. It's a real simcha, thank G-d.

DEAR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC EDITOR:

I always look forward to receiving National Geographic magazine, to which I have been a subscriber for 30 years. It is one of the few magazines I allowed into the house when my children were small. But when NG starts up with anything related to the Middle East, you can be sure that Israel will be getting a bashing. There were several articles in the past year or two that had my blood boiling, one on the separation fence, which basically accused Israel of creating a prison camp in Gaza and the West Bank (how I hate that term, it's Yehuda-Shomron, or Judea and Samaria; it's the biblical Jewish heartland, not the West Bank of the Jordan river. Let's call Jordan the East Bank then.) The other even more heinous article was in The Water Issue, again, accusing the Israelis of shutting off water to the Palestinians while they frolic in their swimming pools. Truly appalling 'journalism'. With great photos of course.

Anyway, I had to say something about this piece on the Gaza smuggling tunnels, but I know this letter is far too long to get published, I mean, where would they even start to edit? But I had to say something. So I thought I would share what I wrote. Of course I could have gone on for pages, I had a chunk about the 'Peace Flotilla' which was also mentioned in the article, but I had to stop somewhere. I regret not having the techspertise to actually publish the original article. Maybe check out NG's website.

Editor:

In the December 2012 issue of NG, there was, nestled between an article on Redwoods and another on Birds of Paradise, a piece on the Gaza smuggling tunnels. It is not the first time that NG has written about issues relating to the Israel-Arab conflict, and I do concede, this one wasn’t was as blatantly anti-Israel as some have been in the past (Separation fence and Water issue for example). So I am grateful for small things.

No doubt the regular Gazans have a terrible time of it, but it isn’t because the bad old Israelis are so mean to them. It is largely because Hamas, for whom the Palestinians voted in a travesty of an election, demolished the feeble democratoid structure that voted them in and established a theocratic terrorist state. Its charter quotes Koranic Hadiths in support of its goal, which is the destruction of Israel; anyone who bothers can read this charter. When the Israelis withdrew from Gaza, leaving their successful greenhouses fully operational along with international money to train the Arabs on how to maintain and profit from them, the first thing that the Arabs did, after destroying synagogues, was to loot and destroy the greenhouses. The article makes mention of ’abandoned Israeli settlements…their greenhouses lying in tatters’, but it doesn’t say who trashed them.

Only a careful, almost forensic reading yields any information as to why the Gazans are closed off in their ‘prison camp’ and why Israel and Egypt blockade Gaza. Only a cursory mention is made of the thousands of rockets which are sent into southern Israel’s towns on an almost daily basis, staunched temporarily by IDF actions such as Cast Lead and recently, Pillar of Defence. In between these 2 actions, Iran managed to supply Hamas, a proxy, with longer range missiles to bombard Israeli population centres, including Ashkelon, Ashdod and even Tel Aviv. How are these missiles getting into Gaza? Through the porous Egyptian border. Now that the Muslim Brotherhood has hijacked the Egyptian  ‘Arab Spring’ and Morsi has grabbed autocratic power, it remains to be seen how Egypt and Gaza will relate to each other. When Morsi, ludicrously, was appointed as mediator between Hamas and Israel in the ceasefire after Pillar of Defence, he solemnly swore to seal the border to weaponry into Gaza; then he took power and who knows what will be. Nothing good for Israel, I’m sure.

Another thing not mentioned is the tons of humanitarian aid which Israel sends in, and the water, and the fuel, and the electricity wired in from Ashkelon; yes, the same Ashkelon upon which missiles from Gaza rained in the past conflicts.

So why the aid? Because Israel keeps saying that its war is with Hamas, not the Palestinian people, however they can tell them apart. So why the tunnels? Because the Hamas kleptocracy commandeers the supplies. And because Israel is leery of sending in supplies which can be used for non-peaceful purposes. But it is Israel who ‘makes it extremely difficult and expensive for the UNRWA…-the source of life and livelihood for thousands of the 1.6 million Gazans- to import basic materials for rebuilding…’ UNWRA, the only ‘refugee relief’ agency which has not ever tried to solve the Palestinian ‘refugee problem’ but fosters it from generation to generation and pours international money into the coffers of the kleptocrats of both Hamas and Fatah. Every Palestinian would be a millionaire if the money hadn’t been squirreled away into Swiss bank accounts by Arafat and his cronies, Abbas included.  But that’s Israel’s fault too.

And that ‘a handful [!] of rockets are launched by young militants hired by local merchants whose profits would decline if Israel’s closure were further relaxed’ is not just ‘hideous enough to be believable’, it is an example of the mindset of the Arabs who are only too happy to terrorize Israeli families in the Negev even for no profit. And then when Israel finally retaliates, it is told to practice restraint, and that air strikes are ‘disproportionate’, while Hamas exults in the killing of not only Jews, but Gaza’s own citizens who are used as human shields by Hamas. Higher Gazan body counts equals more world disapproval of Israel. A double bind for Israel. 

When NG tries to take the complicated situation of the Arabs and Israelis and turn it into a piece of photo-journalism with a few sad human interest stories and half a background, it does itself a disservice. Really, stick to the trees and the birds and the mammoths and the mummies. Those articles are truly educational and enjoyable.

FORM-FILLING AND OTHER CURSES

I recently agreed to be part of a study of patients who had undergone laparascopic gastric banding, ie Lap-banding, for the treatment of obesity. I had the band in 2006 and lost 30kg (read previous post) but had review surgery in August this year because I was having terrible trouble with reflux. So now the reflux is cured, praise the Lord, but I have yet to lose any more weight, so I am having serial adjustments until we hit the ‘sweet spot’ where there is the balance between hunger and satiety, between food slipping down too easily and some sort of restriction which acts as a behaviour-modifier. Interestingly, the experience is quite different the second time around, partly I guess because I know more what to expect. But an odd thing has happened to me; I have developed what looks (and sounds) like IBS. Sure, in the past I might have had a bit of a wind problem, but nothing painful, no bloating etc. Now, OMG, some days I can’t be in the same room with anybody. I now understand those women who have babies without knowing they are pregnant, because they think that the baby’s kicking is ‘wind’. Well, I have that sort of wind now. If I didn’t know I wasn’t pregnant, I would wonder.

It’s as if I have suddenly become intolerant of fructose or lactose or everything with an –ose at the end, or who knows.  Whonose. G-dnose. (But no reflux, so I can sleep at night even though we have to keep the windows open.) Plus all sorts of shenanigans with bowels which I won’t bore you with.

Apparently, according to the GP who looks after me in the Centre for Bariatric Surgery in Glen Iris, this is not rare and should settle. But nobody seems to understand why this happens. We agreed that I should keep a food diary and maybe we can pinpoint the cause. She suggested MyFitnessPal app. This just looks at calories really, so not quite what I need, but I downloaded the app and have rediscovered that I am crap at food diaries, no matter how they are presented. And it’s easier with pencil and paper. Duh.

But all food diaries, provided one fills them in honestly, and that is a BIG if, are pretty confronting.

Before I had the band I had a whole training diary which I got from my personal trainer, and I was so stringent with everything I ate, drank and exercised, and I thought I was pretty good. I looked at the pages recently and I was shocked at how much I was eating. I eat a fraction of that now. Really, no wonder I’m such a fatty, without the restriction of the band and the fact that it does take away your hunger, I could eat infinitely. So I am eating a lot less than I used to, but it’s far from ideal. FAR, FAR from ideal. I do tend to eat –not to put too fine a point on it- crap. And now the question is, am I really intolerant of FODMAPS, or is this just a transient phase and will I just wait it out? I’m flying out in a few days so that will sure be a testing time. Is there anything worse for everybody concerned, than excessive gas on an airplane?

Meanwhile, I received a questionnaire in the mail from a researcher in the Bariatric Centre and it went on for pages and pages of multiple choice questions about physical and mental well-being. And they actually did ask about excessive wind, so maybe this really is a common problem after surgery.

The mental stuff was interesting because it was like ‘I have felt sad for no reason- never, hardly ever, sometimes, all the time’ in the last 2 weeks/4 weeks whatever, or ‘I have felt panicky and anxious’ or ‘I have felt like killing myself’ etc and the way they phrased it all, I just ticked never/never/never etc until I could see at the end that I scored zero. Which, in my experience, usually means that the client filling these forms out is in denial. So I went over it and I really didn’t change anything. I must be the happiest person around, which surprises me. But then, they weren’t asking have you EVER been sad etc for no reason, they were asking about the last 2 weeks. So I am delighted to say that, at least for the last 2 weeks, I have indeed been the happiest person around.

Oh yes, the ‘for no reason’ bit. Well, I have been completely pissed off FOR VERY GOOD REASON, several times in the past 2 weeks. For example, I was in despair when Julia Gillard bowed to the Greens and lost all moral authority, allowing Australia’s abstention vote on Nov 29 on upgrading ‘Palestine’ to observer status in the UN. And I was enraged to the point of ignition when Bob Carr called the Israeli ambassador, Yuval Rotem, for a dressing-down concerning Israel’s decision to build more homes in the E1 ‘settlement’ area (12km square, I believe, adjacent to Ma’alei Adumim, and anyone who calls that a ‘settlement’ hasn’t seen it). I didn’t see Carr call in the Syrian ambassador to express concerns about Assad mobilizing chemical weaponry to be used, I’m only guessing here, against his own citizens. Nor did I see any mention of calling the Egyptian ambassador to ask hard questions about Morsi’s self–empowerment and complete destruction of any nascent democratic process in Egypt. And no sirree, Carr had no desire to quiz the Iranian ambassador about obvious lies to the world about nuclear aspirations, threatening genocide and Holocaust denial. But give a Jew a hammer and a fistful of nails, and World Peace is threatened.

So that all made me pretty unhappy. But apart from the feeling that Armageddon is getting closer, I am officially a happy person.

Maybe there are worse things than a rogue fart.

GRANDCHILDREN: A time to sook, a time to be strong.

Yesterday I picked up my eldest grandchild from her ballet class. She is 7 and she is about to be in her first concert with her class of 8 little girls. She wasn’t quite finished when I came and she invited me in to watch her rehearsal.

She is tall and lean and leggy, and she has been learning ballet for only a few months, but she really looks the part with the white leotard and pink slippers and little crossover cardy. I don’t think that I will spoil anything by telling you that her dance is to ‘I want to be where the people are’ from The Little Mermaid, and she isn’t Ariel. She was tippy-toeing and wafting her arms around in the chorus and doing little jumps and knee bends (we used to call them petits jetes and plies and porte-de-bras, but I guess they don’t anymore) and I did what I usually do every time I see little kids trying so hard to do things that the teacher wants; I cried. I am such a sook, and anyone who knows me will think I am making this all up. After all, my own kids used to call me Mr Spock, for my lack of emotional demonstrativeness and my tendency to intellectualize away everything. And the other thing I used to do, which I deeply regret, was to be critical. I always felt that it was dishonest to gush over every little thing and that it would be more instructive for the child to know that, say, the piano playing wasn’t that great and it wouldn’t be great unless more practice was going to happen. Or the toe wasn’t pointed properly and the arms were a bit stiff. Here, do it like this! (I did ballet and tap for 6 years, from age 6-12, even though I was a heifer. RAD training, exams and medals and everything. But then I really was too fat and embarrassed to continue. Yet your body never forgets.) What I should have done was realized that my kids, in fact, most kids, are unlikely to actually become ballerinas or concert pianists, and they should just enjoy what they were doing, and I should stop trying to live my thwarted dreams through them and just praise, praise, praise. But even back then, put me in the audience and put a bunch of little kids on stage and get me the Kleenex box.

So the ballet chorus comprised little girls of different heights and sizes and abilities, and they all looked like little pure angels, and they were enjoying themselves, and I was sniffling away trying not to look like an idiot- this whole thing took not more than 5 minutes- and I got a bit of a quizzical look from my granddaughter. But she took it all in her stride and we went home and that was that.

Today I accompanied my daughter with her new baby to have his 6-week-old immunizations. He is Baruch HaShem, a lovely plump baby with beautiful smooth olive skin and dark eyes, and he is just starting to smile and coo; he is, in short, adorable.  Sure, he kvetches a bit and burps and farts like a navvy, but that’s to be expected.

I preface the next comments with a statement of the fact that I am strongly pro-vaccination. I have engaged in many an argument about vaccination and all I know is that I won’t change the mind of anyone who is strongly on the other side of the fence; maybe I have encouraged a few of those mums who are sitting on said fence to have their children immunized. Most vaccines are so effective that we have forgotten why we use them, because we just don’t see tetanus, diphtheria and polio anymore. We don’t see much measles or mumps, either the misery of the diseases or, more important, the complications and post-infective syndromes, such as encephalitis or sterility. We hardly see epiglottitis due to Hemophilus anymore, and that was a shocker. We don’t see many rubella-affected newborns, and the disaster that this is. I don’t intend to list every vaccine-preventable disease here. Yes, some vaccines are better and some are worse. Better approaches to pertussis immunization of carers means fewer unimmunized newborns are dying of whooping cough. 

Anyway, I’m not on a crusade here, that’s not what I’m writing about. I’m writing about how I wanted to grab the baby and run. And how the sight of the needle sinking into the plump little thigh and the absolutely affronted protest from the baby- twice! 2 jabs!- made me want to leap the vaccine fence and head for the hills. But I didn’t. He cried for a few seconds, had a bit of a breastfeed and fell asleep. He is fine. He will be fine, please G-d. He has been through worse, when he had his Brit Milah, and I am NOT NOT NOT going to get into any fights about that with anyone, not today, not tomorrow and not again. He is a beautiful Jewish baby and he will not die of tetanus or diphtheria or polio or any of these nasties. This is a lesson in the way of the world; there is Chessed- love, kindness- and there is Gevurah- strength, boundaries, discipline. It’s a balance. Through the Gevurah of the needle, he has the Chessed of the blessing of good health. That’s how I see it. You can choose to disagree.

So I got teary at a ballet concert rehearsal and I had a subdued panic attack at the doctor. This grandparenting caper ain’t for sissies.

CHANUKAH, OH CHANUKAH- Revisited

A year ago I was kicked off a website called Kveller, for sounding off against Reform Judaism for muddying the issue of Jewish identity. It's a theme which I tend to go on about, I must confess. Kveller is a good website; it's about Jewish parenting and there are many contributing bloggers who write about diverse topics (I was Resident Bubbeh and people wrote in to ask me questions. When I wrote my rant, I was not in Bubbeh persona, I was just a commenter in a thread, but unfortunately I was not incognito so bye-bye Bubbeh. Anyway.) But there is this thing at Chanukah time on Kveller, now too,  (see for yourself <www.kveller.com>) about presents, presents and presents, for everybody, not just kids; for Mom and Dad and Bubbie and Zeidy and brother and sister and aunt and uncle and OMG it never ended, and I respectfully submitted the following article which didn't get published; and then I was ejected from the Kveller family. And then I became Doctor Booba who can say whatever she wants and doesn't need to tippy-toe quite as much as Bubbeh had to.
So this is the piece. I'm trying to say that Chanukah is NOT about presents, dammit! It's a celebration of Jewish identity and pride.

CHANUKAH, OH CHANUKAH

I love this time of year. I love Chanukah; I confess, I also like that I live in a secular, loosely constitutionally Christian country (Australia) where we are allowed to practice our customs in public, and happy festive non-Jews and Jews celebrate their customs without fear of punishment. It wasn't always like this, I am sure you know.

Chanukah seems to be about presents and parties, eating yummy fried foods, singing, playing dreidel and lighting the candles in the Chanukiah, the 8 + 1 branched menorah. What does it all mean?

How can you understand the meaning of anything without knowing some history? And boy, do we Jews have history. So here's a little bit; please bear with me!

Chanukah, like Purim, is a post-biblical holiday, unlike Pesach, Shavuot, Rosh haShana, Yom Kippur and Succot. These were all mentioned in the Torah, the 5 Books of Moses; but Purim took place in the era between the 2 Holy Temples, around 4th Century BCE, in Persia; and Chanukah in the 2nd century BCE. The Biblical, ie 'Heavy' sort of holydays, have a lot of do's and do-not's and can be pretty solemn at least some of the time. The other two are 'lighter', with fewer restrictions and prohibitions, and so they are often thought of as being less important. But in fact, these festivals 'speak' to us sometimes even more powerfully; not just because they are more fun! But because they celebrate and commemorate in a more immediate way, the same sort of trials which we face today.

In Purim, a Persian vizier, Haman, sought to annihilate the Jews, 'Man, woman, and child'. And today, a Persian leader, Ahmedinajad, wants to do the same thing; and in between, there have been plenty more 'Hamans'.

Chanukah is different; the bad guy Antiochus IV 'Epiphanes', a Seleucid (Syrian by geography, Greek by culture) sought to stamp out the practices of the Jews. He managed to kill a lot of people, including Chana and her 7 sons, but the idea was not to kill everyone, like Haman; it was to kill the Jewish identity. Jews could live, as long as they acted Greek- a spiritual death. So no holydays, no circumcision, no dietary laws, and no worship of the One G-d, HaShem; those who refused to 'Hellenize' were tortured and killed. Many did, in fact embrace Hellenism - worshipping strange gods, worshipping the body, adoring Reason, Intellect, Logic, Philosophy, Beauty; and following the practices du jour.

But Antiochus pushed too far when he insisted that a pig be sacrificed in the Temple. The Cohen Gadol, Matisyahu, refused; and when another Jew offered to do the deed himself, Matt killed him in fury and started the Maccabean revolt with the cry 'Mi LeHaShem, alai!' - whoever is for G-d, to me! (sounds better in Hebrew as a rallying cry.) His sons, the most famous being Yehuda, known as Maccabee, meaning 'the Hammer', led a small army which then defeated the large Seleucid/Greek army. A miracle! And then they sought to rededicate the Temple (Chanukah means Dedication), lighting the 7 branch Menorah with pure olive oil. A small sealed jug of oil was found- another miracle!- enough fuel for a day. But it burned for 8 days -yet another miracle!- which was enough time to make fresh, pure olive oil. And why the 25th of Kislev? Because that's when the fighting stopped; Chanu-Kah also means 'they rested on the 25th.'

SO. That's why:

1) 8 day festival starting on the 25th of Kislev.

2) Accent on lighting a candelabra commonly called a 'menorah', but really, the Menorah had 7 branches, and was in the Temple. What we light is 9 branched, a Chanukiah; 8 lights, one for each day, and the 9th for the Shamash, the candle that 'serves' by lighting the other candles or oil lamps, and by giving light which we can read by etc, unlike the other 8 lights which are not to be used for anything other than commemoration. THIS is the real heart of the festival, and there are rules and regulations about the blessings etc. We are celebrating the miracle of the oil, not the military victory. We sing special songs after lighting; I guess singing always makes things more special.

3) Fried foods! Latkes or doughnuts, the oil reminding us of the miracle of the oil.

What about the games? Different reasons are given, but one is that the Jewish kids would get together and learn Torah, but if a Greek soldier discovered them, they would pretend that they had just been playing with the Dreidel, a gambling game; that was OK. The dreidel is no holy artefact, but it is a tradition to play Dreidel for nuts or chocolate money; and by extension, many people have games nights with other board games; not so much real gambling with cards etc but I've heard of it. (Feh!)

And parties? Apparently after the initial Chanukah, there was an annual feast and party given by the High Priest/ leader.

And what about the presents?

The really traditional present is actually money, 'Chanukah gelt'. This originated from a Talmudic custom of going from door to door to ask for money to buy oil/candles for lighting as even the poorest Jew was supposed to light candles. So today we give money gifts to children for Chanukah. So if they are given chocolate money, they are not really getting anything of value; so we give them a gift that they will appreciate, a toy etc.

The whole lavish gift exchange thing is actually thought to be a result of Jews living among Christians and taking on the customs so that Jewish children wouldn't feel left out. This started as recently as the 1950's in the US. Christmas envy? I don't know. 

Chanukah celebrates and commemorates the spiritual deliverance of the Jews; Purim celebrates the physical deliverance of the Jews.

These are not at all trivial festivals, and it is only through lack of education that Jews can be a bit dismissive of them. They're not just for kids; there is a powerful message for us all today, about pride, about identity. Hellenism is alive and well today: the worship of strange gods- money and power: the worship of the body- 'nuff said; the adoration of Reason, Intellect, Logic, Philosophy, Beauty; and following the practices du jour. Not much difference, apart from the absence of a murderous tyrant (although Stalin would have fit that bill not so long ago). And the threat is as real; spiritual death for the Jew.

So many of us are like little lost children, unclear of our identities, ignorant of our customs and history. Education has to be the way to remedy this and give us a future as Jews. That, and having fun, too! 
'They tried to kill us, we won, let's eat!' Latkes, anyone?

NOT-SO-SUPERHEROES

Ever since the Golem of Prague, we hunger after a superhero who can vanquish our enemies with his super-human strength and then, when we don’t need him any more, go back into his box and not bother us until we call him. Superman in his Fortress of Solitude. Batman in his Batcave. All with the secret identities that can be shed instantly to save us. We love them, all the Avengers and the X-Men, the Marvel and DC pantheon, in comic books and in the movies, with their troubles and all, as long as they can save us when we need saving. Which is most of the time.

But the non-super hero, he goes way back further than that.

What is a hero?

"In mythology and legend, a man or woman, often of divine ancestry, who is endowed with great courage and strength, celebrated for his or her bold exploits, and favored by the gods." (mythweb.com). Every culture has a version.

In everyday use, more like a person who does something dangerous to help somebody else.

Enter the Anti-hero. The Anti-hero is not a villain. He is a literary device. He is a protagonist who lacks the usual heroic qualities of courage and idealism. So he can be vengeful or mercenary or a nutter but still do good things. Or maybe not do good things. Or mean to do good things, but it’s not so clear why. Batman. Don Quixote. Inigo Montoya (from The Princess Bride, for the 2 of you out there who don’t know.) Neo (but he’s more complicated because he’s not just a slacker-turned-hero, he’s The Chosen One. That taps into a whole other Messianic thing). Most modern heroes really have a bit of the anti-hero in them, because that’s the way we like it. Complex. Dark Side etc etc. Or he’s just a regular, imperfect dude thrust into a difficult situation, kicking the villain’s ass and saving the good folks. John McClane. Han Solo. Luke Skywalker, for that matter. Rooster Cogburn.

So what is James Bond? A drinker. A womanizer. An assassin. So why do we love him? 50 years of cinematic Bond, but the Bond of Ian Fleming’s novels well pre-date even that, and we loved them too. Bond has all the hallmarks of the Anti-hero; BUT he gets the job done, vanquishes the usually extravagantly villainous villain, risking life and limb, all for Queen and Country. So he has ideals, but he is essentially a low-life. It’s all rather confusing. Of course, I love Bond, and I think Daniel Craig is the last word in Bond. I don’t miss the slightly camp Roger Moore, although I liked the rather arch Pierce Brosnan. Timothy Dalton was a bit too angsty and George Lazenby was a shtick holtz. But Sean Connery…Oh, Sean, Sean, you sexy, hairy Scot, Sean was the greatest…until Daniel Craig, who looks like a cold-eyed blond British bastard, which fits the bill nicely. And of course, great supporting actors like Judi Dench and Ralph Fiennes don’t hurt either. And Javier Bardem; superb villain, one of the best ever.

Who else is out there? Jason Bourne. Well he was a screwed-up assassin with a military background (check: patriot) who only wanted to find out who he was (check: confused) and it turned out that the bad guys were home-grown, but he does a lot of ass-kicking and saves the girl/USA. So a hero. But a really really violent one. And now there’s a ‘Legacy’ so who knows how long that franchise will go on for? Jeremy Renner is great but the action is so extreme, he’ll wear out faster.

Ethan Hunt. Before Tom Cruise, who is a nutcase megalomaniac yet manages to be appealing and very watchable on screen, the IMF (Impossible Missions Force, not International Monetary Fund, though they both undertake impossible missions) comprised a team where everybody got a chance to do heroic things in their own way, but Tom turned it into more of a one-man-band with some appendages for humorous relief. But I won’t lie, I enjoyed all of the absurdity. Yet, Hunt could in no way challenge Bond, because he is Tom Cruise now. The role can’t transcend the actor in the same way.

And now Tom thinks that he can be Jack Reacher. Lee Child’s Reacher is a true fictional hero. He hates bullies and he will always fight for the underdog, just on principle, with no thought of himself. He owns nothing but a toothbrush and wears clothes for 3 days, then discards them and buys a new set, so no laundry, no (physical) baggage.  He pays cash. He hitches rides or takes buses randomly, though lately he has been trying to get to Virginia to visit a woman to whom he has only spoken on the phone, and that’s how he meets people and gets into action as needed, helping the innocent victim, kicking the villain’s ass etc. Then he leaves, hitching the next ride. There’s an element of superhero-ness about him and his uncanny sense of time and his ability to deduce anything from zero evidence, but that’s OK. And he’s an expert marksman, and that’s cool too. And he can explode into action when it’s needed. But he is always described as an enormous man, 6’5”, ex-military cop (and they are always big and imposing so as to break up fights and stuff just by showing up), ex-Special Investigations Unit, big hands, hulking figure, gorilla-like etc. So Tom, what are you thinking? With respect, dude, you are what, 5’7”? 130lbs maybe, in a wet overcoat? Sure, you have the moves, but…I’ll have to go see. He’ll probably just be Tom Cruise. I’ll probably like it anyway.

So we like our heroes to be heroic and we forgive them their imperfections. And then we close the book or leave the cinema or put the Golem back in the box and go on our way. Until the next outing.

Bond. James Bond. Long may he live to vanquish those who threaten Her Majesty and the Free World.