September 2021

“Today 4 U Tomorrow For Me” – Angel, RENT

When I was in the Israel Defense Forces I was a Chayal Boded (a “Lonely Soldier”) – someone who is serving in the army with no family in the country. I developed my chosen family and my brothers and sisters in arms during my service. As a Chayal Boded, I was often invited to friends’ houses during holidays.

During Simchat Torah, when we rewind the Torah and start all over again I was invited to a friend’s house. His family is Moroccan. The hospitality and culture, warm, and funny. After being fed…just…so much food (“He must be shy…give him more food…”) I remember sitting down for coffee with my friend and his family.

The conversation eventually turned to me: who I was, why on Earth I had moved to Israel and joined the IDF, what I thought of the Israeli men. When my friend’s mother found out that I had a degree (I had explained that I finished my degree in Linguistics and thought that this was my next logical step), she shared something with me: she had relayed her sadness, that in her own family, and in some (many?) segments of society, there was a drive to earn as much money as possible after the army instead of going to college or vocational school first.

It’s not that there isn’t academic drive in Israel (there is, and some incredible scholarship) it was that it often takes a few more years for young adults to engage with academic or vocational programs, as many go to other countries to sell in the mall kiosks, or find other ways to earn cash, until they come to a reckoning of what it will take to get by, and eventually thrive.

My friends mom was worried that the concept of sacrificing now for reward later was becoming something less familiar as just an…understood…concept. This is from a society that has sacrificed so much: from the ashes that our country was founded on, to wars, and blockades, and more. The Kibbutz movement, that made the desert bloom. She was worried that there was a shift in understanding: that those younger than me didn’t understand that the hard now is the key that opens doors later.

I can’t say that, in that moment, I agreed with her: I honestly didn’t know enough of Israeli society to know. What I did know, was that her thoughts, feelings, and beliefs were genuine.

This memory was brought back to the forefront of my mind this week when reading reports on COVID-19; the lack of patience and lack of willingness to sacrifice now for later. The growing segment that doesn’t realize that the hard now is the key that opens our front doors, and lives open up later.The lack of willingness to understand that we can’t go back, and we can only go forward. To understand that it’s going to likely get a lot harder before it gets better. That some sacrifices (wearing a mask) aren’t as hard as others (distancing, not seeing friends). The denialism. The shocking reality that despite three vaccination shots I’ve received, because of my immunosuppressants, I may not be protected at all.

We are standing at the precipice of historic revolution (as in a change as seismic as the industrial revolution): a total change in how we relate to one another, our communities, and work, locally, nationally, internationally…and while this has been building throughout the pandemic (and, in fact, in the lead up to it) I fear, as did my friend’s mother, that the denialism, the lack of hard now for later, will cause segments of society to be in shock when we can no longer deny our current geopolitical state.

Back on the street
Where I met my sweet
Where he was moaning and groaning
On the cold concrete
The nurse took him home
For some Mercurochrome
And I dressed his wounds
And got him back on his feet
Sing it!
Today 4 you
Tomorrow 4 me
Today 4 you
Tomorrow 4 me
I said today 4 you
Tomorrow 4 me
Today 4 you
Tomorrow 4 me
- Angel, RENT

Sample Blog Post for My UB SW150 Students

Hello SW150 students! This is a sample of a full credit blog post for Blog #1. Please let me know if you have any questions. – Matt

Beacon

The art piece I’ve decided to talk about is one that’s incredibly important to me for a number of reasons, in fact I’ve carried a copy of it with me daily for many years.

The piece is “Beacon” by Frank Moore. The above digital replication does not do it justice. When I was first introduced to it as an undergraduate taking a drawing class, it was when we went on a field trip to the Albright-Knox Art Gallery in 2002-2003. We were given the go ahead to walk around on our own and I came upon it – it was a painting the size of a wall, and it made me feel so incredibly small. I had my headphones in (as I almost always do) and I was listening to the song “Rest in Peace” from the Buffy The Musical soundtrack.

You're scared
Ashamed of what you feel
And you can't tell the ones you love
You know they couldn't deal
Whisper in a dead man's ear
It doesn't make it real
Spike, Rest in Peace, Buffy The Vampire Slayer the Musical

Go ahead and take a moment to listen to the song while you take in the painting. I broke down in tears in the middle of the Albright-Knox when I saw it, and its meaning and impact hit me. The painting and the music coming together to move me to a display of emotion I rarely show the outside world.

The painting shows a man on a hospital bed, lonely, in a sea of torment, connected to IV tubes, and with a tentacle holding injections. The lighthouse is a beacon of hope for a cure, shooting out a light that shares with it DNA/Genetics (Source: I remember the placard I read at the museum).

Having lost friends to HIV/AIDS (and the resulting complications thereof) this piece of art motivated me to become a sex educator in the LGBTQIA+ community, and to pass out/distribute condoms, and encourage HIV testing. It took the ember of activism in my chest and turned it into a roaring fire, which I carry with me today as a Social Worker.

More broadly, this piece had me consider the larger movements of art within the LGBTQIA+ civil rights movement. As it connected me to other art, I found other activists and artists who thought like me. I also began to more broadly learn the history of the LGBTQIA+ civil rights movements, through art and music. This piece of art connected me to a history that was my own, but hidden from me. I think it made me a better activist. Certainly, carrying a copy for close to twenty years must mean something.