It's been a wild ride here at Rancho Beth these last few weeks.
I've got hand issues that are making playing instruments painful. Doc suspects either osteoarthritis or carpal tunnel. X-rays revealed nothing out of the ordinary, so my next step is very likely cortisone shots in each hand, with the hop that only one round will solve the problem.
I HATE cortisone shots. They hurt like hell.
I've been formally diagnosed with ADHD, which I've likely had all my life and only recently guessed at. No one knew what ADHD was when I was a kid, and only recently have scientists figured out that it can affect adults as well as kids. I'm on a waiting list to see a specialist and learn what kinds of treatments are available for me. Medical options (such as pills) may be limited because of my age and other medical issues (such as rising blood pressure, and the meds I'm already on). But I'm in line and will have to wait 2-4 months. Having the diagnosis helps to explain quite a lot, and I am grateful for that.
I've been offered some additional opportunities for paid Jewish work at CST, a monthly prayer service/song session for kids one Sunday morning a month. It's early in the morning, so that will be a challenge logistically and medically; but if I can make it work it will be nice to engage in an education role again.
I spoke with my MIL yesterday, about the situation in Israel/Palestine and about my ADHD diagnosis. Having her as a gentle, non-judgmental sounding board was very helpful.
I haven't done much songwriting lately. I also haven't been worried about it.
Right now, it seems that my task is to sort out my health and figure out how much to take on at any given time.
Folks I know are gathered in Wisconsin for Shabbat Shira, the annual adult music conference that I've attended exactly once. I'd like to go to these conferences, as they are great for both musical inspiration and networking. But they cost a LOT of money, and when you don't have a synagogue contract there's no money for professional development. I spoke with my MIL about this reality yesterday and she wholeheartedly agreed with my assessment: When it comes to supporting front-line teachers and musicians, our people (MOTs) are cheap. The admins of Federations and the senior rabbis at large synagogues draw huge salaries, often in the six-figure range, while a religious school teacher or music specialist is lucky to draw a wage of $25-30/hour for a job that offers maybe 10 hours of paid time a month.
It's no wonder there's a shortage of Jewish teachers these days.
My own synagogue is implicit in this scheme: When I wanted to attend a music conference seven or eight years ago, the conference organizers offered me a very small scholarship of $100 (towards a conference that would cost me $800-900 to attend, including transpo and lodging). I asked someone on the Steering Committee how to apply for some assistance and was flatly told, "Members here are volunteers, and we do not provide professional development for this sort of thing." So I scrambled and hustled and managed to come up with the cost myself.
When I was at the shul for a meeting, a member of Steering congratulated me on being able to go to the conference, and added, "Of course, we hope you might find some great resources for our community."
I was livid.
I smiled and replied, "Well, since the shul doesn't support its musicians with professional development help, and since I had to hustle my ass off to come up with the costs myself, I'm going to this conference for ME. If I find anything that's useful for the shul, great; if I don't, I'm not going to worry about it."
The Steering Committee member was offended and walked away. Which I must admit was partly what I had intended. Sorry/not sorry.
Jewish communal organizations are structured along the same lines as the rest of the capitalistic landscape. So no one should be surprised by any of this. But the memory still stings a little even today.
What's next for me? I honestly don't know. I am taking time this winter to get my health sorted out. Beyond that, I don't yet know what lies ahead. But don't look for me anytime soon at another Jewish conference or large-scale gathering. I can't afford it, and I'm not ashamed to admit that.
There's no shame in being low-income in a system that is designed to keep a majority of people that way.
Perhaps that's partly a gift of my ADHD: the ability to recognize big-picture systems quickly, and to discern whether or not I can make any part of those systems more fair.
Shavua tov -- have a good week.
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