Saturday, November 15, 2014

Rush Limbaugh was the crazy uncle I never wanted but got anyways. He always made himself known at family gatherings: trips to the doctors office, family car rides, and always Shabbat dinners. Whenever his voice blasted out the car radio, no one else was allowed to speak.

In high school, as the youngest of four and the least politically trained, I  never really had much to contribute during these intense and frequent Shabbat conversations. With political jargon whizzing over my head at the table, I stuck to the kitchen making salad.

3 cups Spinach
"Did you hear what Rush said yesterday?"
1/2 cup red onion
"Obama was in London meeting with the Queen"
1 cup fresh sliced strawberries
"He got a gift, and you know what it was?"
Balsamic Vinaigrette
"An Ipod! Can you believe that?!? An Ipod!! Some president.."
A few nuts

After 3 semesters at a liberal arts college, with courses taught by strong opinionated professors, I've learned people's political stripes are coherently present in  terminology alone:

Americans without documentation : illegal aliens or undocumented?
The right to end the growth of an unborn fetus: pro-abortion or pro-choice?
Kurdish people fighting against ISIS: revolutionary militants or freedom fighters?

In Journalism as in Judaism, representation is always dependent on your point of reference.

On a Shiddush resume if shes overweight: a few pounds over or a house?
A guy who lives in the beis: serious about his avodat hashem or an unrealistic albino?
The strip of land wedged between fanatical extremists: The State of Israel or Eretz Yisroel (Spoken in the Mama Loshen)

As the youngest of four, all I can do is educate myself and observe until I can come to my own conclusions. But until then, I'll stick to making the salad.

Sincerely,
could use less nuts



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