In the midst of the chaos I call life these days, I find that I frequently desire to lose myself in the pages of a good book. I have recently discovered a nugget of gold. This book has a way of reaching out and connecting to its readers through a series of compelling short stories. The author, Deborah Levine, is a phenomenal communicator of real life lessons through deep personal accounts of challenges that leave you wanting more. I was entertained as well as academically stimulated and felt as if I was experiencing a larger part of the world.
Have you ever stopped to explore what drives your life? What about your family history has prepared you for the work you feel most passionate about? In Inspire Your Inner Global Leader, Deborah Levine shares what it is about her Jewish American heritage that has made her the natural advocate, director and trainer of diversity that she is today. Her many stories are catalysts to illustrate and educate, but ultimately to inspire the reader to fulfill his or her potential as a diversity pro. By sharing her own story, Levine hopes the reader will come away with a new appreciation for storytelling as a tool for self-discovery and the enlightenment of others alike.
Waterbaby—a term I’d never heard before reading Deborah Levine’s book, Inspire Your Inner Global Leader. The word sits right there, on the first page of real text, next to its diverse dictionary definitions. I couldn’t get past it at first—I kept repeating it, over and over in my head. Waterbaby. Waterbaby. I read on, in hopes that I would soon understand. It wasn’t long before I realized that her book is an ocean of honest tales, mixed in with rich, personal history. I wanted to know more about what it meant to master diversity, and I really wanted to know what a waterbaby was. After taking an eager breath, I dove right in, and trust me, it was well worth it.
Recently in the news, a woman was out to lunch and overheard a group of male IBM business executives speaking publicly (well actually privately, but in a public place) about not wanting to hire young women who are in their childbearing years because they get pregnant again and again.
There has been a great deal of media attention regarding the looting of antiquities and other cultural property. The sacking of Iraq’s National Museum and the heritage of the country soon after the fall of Baghdad in 2003 drew international headlines. The issue of looting came to the fore again in 2005 with the Italian Government’s indictment of Marion True, then chief Curator of Antiquities at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles, for trafficking in looted Greek and Roman artifacts. True was put on trial for what was cultural theft.
In much of the Developed World, we’ve struggled with the worst economy since the Great Depression of the 1930s. In addition, we live in a culture that has grown increasingly pessimistic in the face of multiple global challenges that seem too complex for our species to navigate. Pessimism seems a lot smarter, certainly more hip, than optimism.
A friend on Facebook is the brand new father of a baby girl. Simon Cohen, in awe of childbirth and fatherhood invited his friends to give him ideas for an upcoming British radio show asking, “Why aren’t women given more respect? It’s the 21st Century!”
(The Bermuda Jews History Series was originally published in The Bermudian Magazine)
I sat in a restaurant overlooking Hamilton harbor pondering my morning researching Bermuda Jews in the island’s Archives. I’d spent many hours reviewing Bermuda’s Jewish tourism prior to World War II. Yes, my family had mentioned ‘restricted’ places where no Jews were allowed. But mostly I remembered their stories of Bermuda’s war-time kindness to Jews. Dr. Hollis Hallett, the Archives founder, directed me to documents from the 1930s showing the impact of an increasingly global anti-Semitism on Bermuda tourism. What should I write about this ugly period?
“I am a Generation Y. ” This statement seems harmless enough, until you find yourself planted in a room full of baby boomers fed up with the millennials, the whiney, egocentric, group of fickle youngsters filing into the newly unstructured world of work. We are the facebookers, the job-hoppers, the demanders and questioners who want a raise NOW with a company car and a key to the executive washroom. Never mind that we’ve only been working for two months. True, the Y generation may be a bit spoiled and tend to expect rewards somewhat prematurely, but we do have a few good traits that could encourage you to work with generation differences.
I phoned the Los Angeles County Bureau of Adoptions. The switchboard operator asked me to please hold. Finally the director, Jessica Keebler, came on. “Yes, Mr. Barlin.”
“It’s been two years since we put in our application—”
“There are still no Jewish children available, Mr. Barlin.”
