Commentary: Better Sleep, Better Societies?

 I guess that precisely because I’m up late for multiple reasons, I can ponder on the following: would people in general make better sociocultural (including political and economic) decisions overall if they just got more regular sleep at night? Perhaps part of the reason that American and other societies are failing is that those societies often have all-night, 24/7, etc. gas stations, convenience stores, bars, etc. Of course, to sleep at night (let alone sleep well at night) can be difficult for those of us with chronic conditions such as mental illnesses (e.g., Depression) and Spinal Disk Degeneration (C3-C7 for me). To live within cultures and societies which don’t encourage regular sleep can also make sleeping (let alone well) at night—especially for those of us with chronic and sleep-depriving health conditions—difficult. 

Perhaps American and other societies need to encourage a scaleback to 8-12/6 gas stations, bars, etc.; a lack of late-night TV shows and reruns, and other measures that positively affect proper sleep. After all, only emergency personnel (including EMS professionals and urgent-news reporters) are the only people whom need to be on a 24/7-on-call basis. The rest of us can take (one or) two (melatonin pills or whatever else to help us get to sleep) and answer the calls of societal hustle and bustle in the morning.

Were Secular Names Just Random or Arbitrary? If You Believe That Our Ancestors Were Unintelligent, Yes.

 TL:DR: our ancestors were not unintelligent, and even calquing “Rachel” with “Rosa” or “Rose” was very specific. 

If you actually read: 

Let’s start with my my own case: I could have taken “ניקול” or “ניכול” as my Hebrew name when I found out that I’m Jewish. I made a concerted effort to look up what a Hebrew name equivalent to my secular name would be. “נצחיה” was already there. As far as my Hebrew middle or second name: 

1) I don’t want to give out my secular middle name to most people for multiple reasons. 

2) “מרה-טובה” (good bitterness) describes my life perfectly. 

Someone else suggested that I just use “מרתה” (Marta or Martha). I declined that suggestion because: 

1) That name does not fit with either of my secular names in any way. 

2) I am not a direct descendant of any Marta or Martha, as far as I know, and I did not know that my paternal grandfather’s aunt Sophie Martha Thomas-Brighton (née Trudnak) existed until after my great-grandmother (ז״ל) died. I also did not know that Great-Grandma herself was a daughter of Crypto-Jews until after she died. Because I did not know Great-Grandaunt Sophie personally and am (as far as I know) not in contact with any of her living descendants, I think that I would actually be insulting Great-Grandaunt Sophie’s memory and her side of our family if I use “Marta”. 

This isn’t just my view. In Jewish culture, uses and transliterations of names as well as translations of names are actually important. Despite what some might say, many actually tried to keep the Jewish (Hebrew or Hebrew-dialect) and secular (non-Jewish) names as close as possible in some or another form. 

Now to “Rachel” “Rachel” (“Ewe”) and “Rosa” (“rose” or “pink”): while the names indeed correlate partly due to the first letter in Latin lettering, they also correlate because Rachel’s life was seen like the life of a rose. Fragile and thorny was Rachel’s life indeed, no matter the sweetness or blossoming in it. After all, even though she was the favorite wife of Jacob, she wanted to die because of competition against Leah and her own infertility (“Give me children lest I die!” we read that she told Ya’akov avinu). When she finally had biological children (as the sons born to Bilhah were put with Bilhah instead of her when Ya’akov had to divide everybody), she died in childbirth and named her second child “בן-אוני”—“son of my sorrow”.

Our ancestors understood how thorny, fragile, and bittersweet Rachel’s life was, even if they could read only Hebrew lettering and not—for example—Latin lettering (all of which—despite their various orthographies—the various Romance languages, the Germanic languages, Slavic languages such as Polish and Slovakian, Balkan languages such as Serbian and Croatian, and Magyar use). 

Our ancestors were scattered and often could not even read or write in Hebrew dialects, let alone read and write in the various languages surrounding them in the Exile. Their lack of proficiency in any given language—especially after lack of proficiency was forced by oppressive law—did not equate to a lack of intelligence. Therefore, for instance and as demonstrated, they did not just randomly or cavalierly equate “Rachel” and “Rose”— they understood the correlation between the fragile, thorny, and bittersweet life of a rose and the life of Rachel imeinu—which was fraught with peril, distress, and sorrow even in the joys and suffering in the blessings.

Calling Up the Dead? Not Really, Though Maybe Painting What A Belated Matriarch Looked Like?

 

Latest painting: “Middle Eastern (Possibly Egyptian or Jewish) Woman”. If it ended up being a self-portrait, I certainly did not intend that. The woman has black hair, whereas I have brown hair. I did have some ancestors with black hair, as some of my relatives had black hair—i.e., great-granduncles and -aunts, and cousins known to not have inherited or likely inherited black hair from elsewhere. I’ve actually occasionally felt pretty smug about the fact that some of them inherited black hair, as we thankfully often avoided the blond and other hair that could’ve come from Slavs, Balts, Vikings, and Magyars as well as other gentiles in Eastern and Southeastern Europe.  

The stereotypical brown, red, and black hair thankfully made it difficult for my family whom wanted our Jewish heritage even lost to history within the family. By the way, I take joy in looking Jewish. Other people knew that I was Jewish before I did because I even look Jewish— and that’s literally what someone told me when I told him that I’m Jewish: “I figured that you’re Jewish. You look Jewish.” 

I don’t shy away from my Jewish looks, and so be if this a self portrait or even an unintentional portrait of a belated ancestor—with, as I will demonstrate in an update, a Gajdosz or Ushinsky matriarch readily coming to mind. 

Update:

1) Joseph Edmund Gajdos was a brown-eyed brunet and brother of my father’s maternal grandfather (whom identified as “Russian” as the closest way to identity as Jewish—and he absolutely knew the distinction between “Russian” and “Ruthenian”. At least two of his ancestors were Jews in what is now Ukraine and Poland, and the whole of Ukraine by that point was entirely occupied by the Soviet Union. The first known one fled to Upper Hungary as the Russians encroached; and the second one was born “Palin”, “Polin”, or “Palir”.)

2) I am not aware as to whether his mother had brown eyes. That is what I’m trying to figure out, as my great-grandfather had blue eyes.

3) My great-grandfather’s youngest brother was also a brown-eyed brunet. So far, I have not been able to find any physical description of either of their parents except for that their mother was about 5 feet exactly! By the way, her manifest at Philadelphia absolutely disproves that people could not remember on what ship they came to the U.S., as every single immigrant—including ones who lied about somethings or others at the ports of emigration—had a “contract ticket number”.

4) Impressively, my great-granddad maybe was one of the few blue-eyed kids—and maybe the only blue-eyed one, has all of his surviving brothers’ draft cards indicate that they were brown-eyed brunets. Also as I’ve said before, I have simcha in our family’s stereotypically-Jewish features. The gentiles could not take away our Jewish features so easily. Conversely, my father’s paternal grandfather and one of his cousins (Julius/Julian Danilowicz by secular name) were so ashamed of looking Jewish, they even dyed their hair blonde at various times.