navy showers

A week or so ago, a friend sent this link to a shower head with a toggle switch that turns the water on and off -- so you can cut off the water in the middle of the shower, when it's not needed, to reduce the amount of water used.

At some point in high school -- back in the 1980s -- I got myself into the habit of turning off the faucet in the sink while I was brushing my teeth. I'm not sure what prompted this, but by college this was second-nature. After graduating from Duke, some friends and I filtered cross-country to the modified desert of Los Angeles -- where water consumption was very much a concern. After a few months there, I was having lunch with one of these friends, and over California pizza he admitted that he was still running the faucet while shaving and brushing his teeth. What struck me was how foreign a concept that seemed to me. He said he was working on changing this habit. I just shook my head and smiled.

Last year, while writing an article for the Portland Tribune about home energy audits, I was talking with an energy auditor about water consumption and flow restrictors. That's when I realized that I'd picked up another habit somewhere along the way, of shutting off the faucet while soaping up my hands. I know I've not always done this, but I don't remember making a conscious decision to change my hand-washing behavior. Did this green habit develop organically, as part of a natural progression toward more eco-friendly living? I really don't know. Not a bad habit to have, though.

So I gave serious thought to this product that my friend was recommending. Of course, I really like my shower-head -- one of those things on a hose that makes much easier work of rinsing out my hair, or washing the dog -- and I've already got a flow-restrictor on it. So what was keeping me from just reaching down to shut off the shower myself, without a special toggle? Nothing.

About a week ago, I started taking these "navy showers" -- first instituted on military ships where limited fresh water supplies had to last a lot of people for a long time. It was strange at first, but an easy habit to get into. Yes, it can get a bit chilly soaping up in the shower without the water running, and I'm not sure how feasible this will be come winter. And yes, the water -- at least in my shower -- comes back on colder than it had been, and needs time to warm up again.

Also, the dog gets confused. She hears the shower shut off mid-way through, and thinks I'm done. She comes trotting into the bathroom to greet freshly showered Jen, only to hear the water get turned back on again. So she lies down on the tile and sighs. Loudly.

I won't personally see a reduction in my water bill, since my community pays into a communal account, but the end result is still the same -- reduced water consumption, even on a small scale, does make a difference.

The Incredible Head Power Shower Showerhead does look like a good product -- and a good buy at $5 -- for folks who will use it, but I think I'll stick to my "manual override" for the time being. Plus, by not buying the new shower head, I'm not paying for or using manufacturing and shipping resources that I don't really need.

What are your water conservation tips?

new adventures in judaism

More from the New Jewish Front.....

Last Friday, I attended a Shabbat potluck organized by Portland's Urban Jews, a large group mostly in their 20s and 30s. I'd not know anyone going in, but met a lot of friendly people. I'm told there are several hundred members in metro Portland, and we had about twenty-five at this event. A good Southerner, I put myself to work in the kitchen, chopping onions, tomatoes, and avocados in preparation for our not-so-traditional Friday night dinner of tostadas.

I felt a little lost during the "service" portion of the evening. I don't (yet) read or speak Hebrew, nor do I know all of the blessings and songs. But I wasn't the only one not actively participating. A recent convert had baked the challah for the evening and cheerfully talked with me about his experience of choosing Judaism, while other born-Jews teased, "Why in God's name would you ever want to do that?!"

The one negative was that it was really loud in the house, with so many people and so much lively conversation. We managed to get the room quiet for a few minutes while one of the members described her recent experiences in Central America and Africa, where she had worked for 10 months in HIV/AIDS education as a volunteer with the American Jewish World Service -- which she calls the "Jewish Peace Corps."

Three hours later, I was headed out the door, exhausted -- yet I was one of the first to leave. I'd not once felt like a wallflower -- the role I usually play when thrust into large groups where I don't know anyone or otherwise feel like an outsider. That evening, so many people came up to me to introduce themselves that I scarcely had a chance to move from my seat by the kitchen door.

Yesterday, I had a long meeting with the rabbi at Temple Beth Israel, a Reform congregation downtown. While my dean (also a rabbi) from New Seminary (New York City) -- where I finished my graduate interfaith ministry studies in 2001 -- has been wonderfully helpful and supportive via e-mail with suggested reading materials and other recommendations, I also wanted to sit down for a face-to-face to talk about my new adventures in Judaism.

I was nervous going in, though I needn't have been. We had a great conversation about this progressing spiritual journey of mine. Both he and my New Seminary dean made similar suggestions about branches of Judaism that might appeal to me. Besides Reform, I'm also exploring Renewal and Reconstructionist, with Humanistic Judaism also on the radar. The one Humanistic service I attended was lovely -- full of peace, joy, and love -- but was too secular for me; still, I'd like to try attending another service or event with that congregation to get a better feel for it.

I'm now on the "registration packet mailing list" for the 19-week Introduction to Judaism course offered by the Oregon Board of Rabbis, set to begin this fall.

Being a nature-loving, groovy gal who prefers meditating outdoors and includes physical activity as part of spirituality (vs. sitting around under artificial lighting), I'm still wishing the Adventure Rabbi, Jamie Korngold, was here in Portland.... Jamie has suggested that I might just have to start such a group myself.

my not-so-jewish parents

I've spent the past two months reading, researching, and exploring my own Jewishness. Some people in my life have been enthusiastic about this, while others couldn't care one way or the other. The most interesting reaction has come from my parents.

I put off telling my father about my quest until just over a week ago. We were on the phone, and I mentioned that I'd been visiting synagogues in Portland.

"Good," he responded, with a surprising amount of encouragement in his voice.

"So, Dad, how do you feel about that?"

I never got an answer to that question. He immediately turned the conversation toward the differences between Jewish denominations. He asked -- facetiously -- if I planned on shaving my head or moving to Israel. I do remember mentioning that there had been a course on Jewish mysticism that I'd wanted to take at Duke, but couldn't make it work with my schedule. Dad jumped on that immediately and said, "If you want mysticism, you should join the Catholic Church." And so on.

My argument of not wanting to get involved with so much guilt and fear was not convincing, though I carefully avoided the underlying sub-text of the conversation: Dad's and my continuing debate over the divinity and/or humanity of Jesus.

I don't think he's exactly crazy about his daughter being a Jew -- though he's known all along about this heritage from my mother's side -- but I imagine he's encouraged that I'm interested in something that's not, in his mind, purely Pagan.

My mother, on the other hand, had initially seemed excited about this new development. She appreciated the genealogical research I'd done into her her mother's family and expressed her own long-standing interest in Judaism. Then, over dinner last weekend, I mentioned a playful e-mail I'd sent to my friend, Michele, a travel agent who had recently been interviewed by national media about destination weddings. Michele had offered to plan my wedding and honeymoon, and find me a suitable groom to boot. So I sent her my requirements:

Not so easy to find a well-educated, smart, eco-conscious, spiritually literate, spiritually questing, active, healthy, progressive, liberal, passionate, articulate, witty, compassionate, non-smoking, tall, good-looking Jewish man who is interested in archaeology, dogs, environmentalism, world cultures, and books, and who is not averse to heading off to live in a tent in the woods.

But it's not like I'm picky or anything. ;)

I paraphrased this for Mom. Her eyes widened and she shook her head and sucked in her breath when she heard the word, "Jewish."

"Why would you want to marry a Jewish man? After all those terrible jokes? You don't want that."

I had no idea what she was talking about.

With some prodding, Mom -- who only has daughters -- said that her concern had to do with "Jewish men and their mothers" -- unable to cut the apron strings, the mothers making their sons feels like gods, etc.

"Mom, that's every boy and his mother," I said. "Besides, that's why I'm looking for a man, not a boy."

I don't think she was buying it.

Based on these two conversations, I'm guessing that my parents hope this is just a phase that I'll grow out of. Given that I'm 37 and not so much prone to "phases" any more, I doubt it.

Live Earth, part 2

I watched the day-long series of Live Earth concerts this past Saturday. When I first tuned in, the coverage broke away from the music every so often to talk with an author or innovator about strategies that people could adopt to become part of the solution to the global environmental crisis. Great! This was precisely what I was hoping the Live Earth event would present: drawing people in with music, with a strong focus on education and action.

I'd also been impressed by the information on the Live Earth website about the greenness of the event itself -- with power coming from renewable sources, the use of recycled products and CFLs, and more.

But as the concerts progressed across the continents, the helpful advice slacked off. They did continue to break away from the music, but these interludes quickly turned to interviews of the performing artists, with waning information about practical, everyday steps toward real change. There were still helpful tips offered here and there, but it was devolving into a seemingly unorganized Entertainment Tonight type of coverage.

I was disappointed that an event that had such potential to reach so many people and raise not only awareness but also increased activism had instead become just one more vaguely inspirational musical extravaganza. I don't want to sound as though I'm complaining, as I'm sure that Live Earth did help to wake up some people who otherwise might still be floating in complacency. It was absolutely better than no event at all, but I believe it fell short of its promise.

Live Earth

The global Live Earth concert -- aimed at raising awareness about environmental responsibility -- is now underway. It feels odd to be watching this inside -- the revolution will be televised? -- though I am waiting on a phone call from my hiking buddy.

I got into a conversation with another media professional about a month ago at a cocktail party. He asked how I choose my activism, since I've been involved in a number of causes. I think I was still in grade school when I got involved with Save the Whales and projects protecting other marine life. In high school, my focus turned to nuclear disarmament and human and reproductive rights. There was still an undercurrent of wildlife protection and rights of domesticated animals, which continued through college and beyond. At the turn of this century, I was the public relations contact for my local chapter of Amnesty International, and spent several years as the volunteer webmaster for the WITNESS human rights organization.

But through it all, there has always been a growing focus on the environment. I don't know how much this was influenced by external politics; this was at least in part a reaction to the increasing problem of sprawl, pollution, and the like that I saw around me every day. Natural areas were disappearing and those that still existed were being overrun by litter and air and water pollution from the encroaching cities. The more I traveled, the starker the problem I saw revealed.

So I told my new friend at the party that it was a no-brainer to put environmental concerns before all else. "If we don't have a place to live, if we destroy the planet, then all the other causes are pretty much irrelevant," I said. He added, rather astutely, that he viewed environmental protection as a basic human right.

Then he asked me the hard question: What can be done about global warming? Can anything be done?

He figured that since I write about sustainable living, I'm some kind of expert. Nope. I'm just a concerned global citizen.

Granted, there's a lot of science that is still in the works trying to answer these very questions. I do believe that we're on a slippery slope here. The floodgates are already open, and we're experiencing increasingly severe problems as time goes on. Like I've told my father -- who doesn't believe in global warming -- this isn't something that just started happening last Thursday. My view is that our lifestyles are exacerbating an already bad situation.

So, how to answer my friend's question?

It has to start at home. It must begin with individuals making the small choices. Let people get comfortable with choosing compact fluorescent lightbulbs and installing flow regulators in sinks and showers. Let recycling soda cans and newspapers become second-nature. Let people get into the unconscious habit of turning off lights as they leave the room. Before you know it, people will surprise themselves by choosing take-out restaurants based on what kind of food packaging is used. From there, people can start building toward larger choices -- like installing solar panels, switching to composting toilets, converting the car to biodiesel or giving up the car altogether.

Some choices -- while carrying a very positive and more immediate impact -- are just too big to realistically expect from most people right now. Good habits take just as long to build as do bad habits to break.

The mounting environmental crisis is not something that's going to be solved overnight. It's going to take a lot of work over a significant period of time -- more than a single lifetime. But the more we do, the more positive changes we'll see, and hopefully that will encourage us to do more.

Okay, back to the concert. There's an amazing drum troupe taking the stage in South Africa right now.

independence day

A neighbor of mine has just let me know that her mother died last night.

Liz and Laurie are sisters who live in my community. They've been very supportive of me this past year as I've lost Nanook and Journey and faced other challenges, and Lakshmi has decided that their dogs, Emma and Gabriel, are her two favorite friends. Over the past several weeks, while Lakshmi and Emma have wrestled and leaped over each other, I've been hearing about their mother's decline. Several days ago, Liz said her mother had openly expressed a willingness to let go and move on.

At 93, she had lived a much fuller life than many. But the death of a parent is one of those inevitabilities that we're rarely prepared for.

The family spent yesterday lobbying the doctors for some kind of relief for their mother. Physician-assisted suicide is legal here in Oregon, but with just enough morphine for pain relief, she was comfortable enough to make the transition on her own.

Knowing that this is her mother's independence day, free from pain and debilitation, does give Laurie some comfort.

I had been thinking of writing this July 4th about what I'd like to liberate myself from -- bad habits, physical clutter, or defeating attitudes -- which then seemed almost frivolous when I learned of my friends' loss. But there isn't any part of life's journey that is irrelevant or unimportant. Isn't embracing life one of the most affirming ways to honor the passing of a beloved soul?

Freedom is the oxygen of the soul.
-- Moshe Dayan

Life is too short to be wasted in pain, fear, or other forms of subjugation. The American Revolutionaries knew this, and it seems that Liz and Laurie's mother did, too. There is always another option. There is always another choice, if we can but have the courage to make it.

raccoon!

Late last night, Lakshmi and I had a close encounter with a rather ornery raccoon.

Yes, we co-exist with wildlife in our neighborhoods. Last winter, I even wrote an article about urban wildlife here in Portland.

For several months, I've been hearing from neighbors about one or more coyotes roaming through our neighborhood. No surprise, given that we live on a wetland that's only recently been developed to accommodate suburban sprawl. We've also got ducks, geese, herons, and nutria, amongst others.

There has been the raccoon that likes to get up on my next-door neighbor's roof and peer down into my bedroom at night. Since these condos are built in contiguous clusters, the raccoon is only a few feet from the window, and its presence always drives my cats nuts -- I'm pretty sure that's why it peers in, to mess with them.

But this was different.

I was taking Lakshmi out for her "bedtime potty" when I saw a shadow run along the sidewalk outside my courtyard wall. I (wrongly) assumed this was the stray black kitty that my neighbor has been trying to adopt for more than a year now. Lakshmi also saw this darting form and went after it, sticking her head out below the wall. Unfortunately, this made the raccoon stop, turn, and start spitting and "barking" at Lakshmi.

Still thinking it was a cat, I pulled Lakshmi back, and was stunned to find a rather large -- and rather peeved -- raccoon crawling up from the sidewalk into the courtyard. Still growling, it was actively challenging my dog.

Lakshmi, being an 18-month-old puppy, thought the raccoon wanted to play. With tail wagging, she nearly pulled me out of my shoes trying to get closer to her "new friend."

I dragged Lakshmi back as best I could -- she's a 55-pound husky -- but the raccoon kept advancing. It must have been about thirty pounds or so, and was seriously pissed off. Not that I'd ever tried befriending a raccoon before, but I'd no idea they could be so aggressive.

I got Lakshmi back up the steps by the door, and was astonished to watch the raccoon take additional bold steps toward us. We must have backed off far enough, because it finally scampered across the courtyard and dove under the deck we were standing on. Even though Lakshmi really did need to relieve herself, the raccoon was rustling around underfoot, so I decided to take the dog back inside rather than risk another encounter.

As I pulled the door closed behind us, I whispered to the puppy, "See, Lakshmi? That's why you got vaccinated against rabies." I checked her over for any bites or scratches from those few seconds they were nose-to-nose. I didn't want to think of the series of shots I'd be in for if that critter had gotten too close to me. Lakshmi seemed unharmed but was still excited. She ran to the window to watch for her feisty little friend.

An hour later, I deemed it safe to go back out. It was after midnight, but another neighbor was also outside. I told him about the episode. He thanked me for the warning, and let me know that every encounter he's had with a raccoon has been about the same as what I'd experienced.

Maybe I just read too much Ranger Rick as a kid.