Browse Items (382 total)

A form letter. Handwritten entries within brackets.<br /> [October 21]<br /> Dear [Sheila Michaels]:<br /> This note serves as confirmation that on [November 23] you have been scheduled to:<br /> be a Service Leader (English; directions)<br /> be a Ba'al Tefillah (Hebrew; singing)<br /> (with _______________; Drash:___________________)<br /> X deliver a Drash (weekly Torah portion: [Vayetze]) <br /> (Service Leaders: [Not yet assigned])<br /> Other: ___________________<br /> If this information is not correct, please notify: <br /> Jack Greenburg<br /> 201/865-0360 or 212/640-4009<br /> immediately (or a Religious Committee member who is responsible for your participation). If you cannot fulfill your commitment, it is your responsibility to notify the above person as soon as possible and to help find a replacement. <br /> The Synagogue thanks you for volunteering for services. <br /> [Jack]<br /> For the Religious Committee<br /> Please note:<br /> Please remind the service leaders that you are delivering the Drash. A copy of your Drash would be appreciated for the CBST archives. Enclosed is a copy of the formalized Draft guidelines.<br /> [Please review your completed drash with Harry Lutrin and me by November 9.]
Form used to serve as confirmation of Sheila Michaels delivering a midrash at Beth Simchat Torah Temple.

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[Hebrew Star of David Graphic] Congregation Beth Simchat Torah<br /> GAY & LESBIAN SYNAGOGUE NEWS<br /> BOX 1270 NEW YORK, N.Y. 10016 [Hebrew Star of David Graphic]<br /> <br /> SIVAN/ TAMUZ 5748/ JUNE 1988<br /> <br /> CBST PRIMARY FORUM SPARKS LIVELY DEBATE<br /> The Friday night Oneg program on April 15 was a forum on the New York State Democratic Presidential Primary. Oneg Committee Bruce Lynn invited the three active candidates to participate, and each campaign sent a representative. Carol Bellamy, former President of the New York City Council and now an investment banker, represented the campaign of Massachusetts Governor Michael Dukakis. Sheldon Ranz, a member of Jewish-Americans for Jackson ’88, spoke for the campaign of Reverend Jesse Jackson. The third speaker was Michael Veit, one of the state chairmen for the campaign of Tennessee Senator Albert Gore, Jr. CBST Board member Art Leonard was moderator for the program.<br /> <br /> Each of the representatives presented a brief opening statement on behalf of his or her candidate, and the floor was thrown open for questions, which ranged over a wide variety of topics, including nuclear power and the environment, the Middle East, the economy, and lesbian and gay rights. All three representatives stated that their candidates would support a national gay rights bill, although Mr. Veit acknowledged that Senator Gore is not a co-sponsor of the bill now pending in Congress.<br /> Questioned about Governor Dukakis’ controversial position on the rights of gays to be foster parents, Ms. Bellamy stated that she disagreed with the governor on this issue, but believed that, overall, his experience in government and support for gay rights legislation in Massachusetts weighed in his favor.<br /> Much of the questioning was directed to Mr. Ranz, who attempted to explain why, in his view, members of the CBST should be supporting the Jackson campaign. He emphasized the candidate’s positions on gay issues, and asserted that many of Jackson’s positions on the Middle East situation were shared by vocal elements in Israel and the American Jewish community. Most of the audience did not appear particularly convinced by his arguments.<br /> In the election held April 19, Governor Dukakis captured a majority of the votes and delegates statewide. Reverend Jackson obtained about 37% of the votes, but carried three New York City boroughs. Senator Gore received about 10% of the vote and was apparently eliminated from further consideration as a candidate for President.<br /> CBST does not endorse political candidates. Our policy has been to invite all candidates in contested races affecting our community to speak in a forum setting so that our members and guests will have an opportunity to become informed on the candidates’ positions before they vote. We hope to provide similar forums in the fall, when there will be important contested races for the Presidency, congressional seats, and the state legislature.<br /> Arthur S. Leonard<br /> <br /> LETTER OF PROTEST<br /> April 21, 1988<br /> His Excellency Sir Antony Acland<br /> British Ambassador<br /> British Embassy<br /> 3100 Massachusetts Avenue, NW<br /> Washington, DC 20008<br /> Excellency:<br /> As the Chair of the Board of Trustees of Congregation Beth Simchat Torah, New York’s Gay and Lesbian Synagogue, I am writing to protest in the strongest possible terms the enactment of Clause 29 of the Local Government Bill. This legislation, the open ended text of which would prohibit local authorities from participating in the “promotion of homosexuality,” is nothing more than legalized discrimation again Gay men and Lesbians. As Jews, committed to the Biblical command to seek justice and relieve the oppressed (Isaiah 1:17), we cannot decry this legislation too strenuously.<br /> Continued on page 5<br /> <br /> [Box with text] Special Congregational Meeting<br /> Friday June 17<br /> 8:00 PM<br /> (After FAMILY & FRIENDS DINNER)<br /> To Vote on New 7-Year Lease
Congregation Beth Simchat Torah Gay & Lesbian Synagogue News from June 1988

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Brochure Cover<br /> Text Reads, "Congregation Beth Simchat Torah Proudly Presents Its Offering of Jewish<br /> Education Courses Fall, 1988".
Brochure for Congregation Beth Simchat Torah, New York City, 1988

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A black woman wearing shorts and a print blouse stands in front of the Mrs. Victoria Jackson Gray Campaign Headquarters in Hattiesburg, Mississippi during Freedom Summer 1964
Black and white photograph of Mrs. Victoria Jackson Gray Campaign Headquarters during Freedom Summer in Hattiesburg, MS 1964

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Civil Rights Activist Marion Barry looks straight at the camera with a thoughtful gaze. He is wearing a white button-down shirt, to the left is a man looking off-camera and to his right is a partial view of a news camera.  
Photograph of Marion Barry in 1965 at Assembly of Unrepresented People, Washington, D.C.

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Shiki Sushi business card. Hand-drawn card in black, white, and red. Shiki Sushi is spelled in red letters. Text in black lettering reads 1590 2nd Ave. (bet. 82nd and 83rd St.) (212) 650-1694. TAKE OUT. There is a sushi chef behind the sushi counter. Two sushi plates are to his left and a sake carafe and cup are to his right. There is a large red paper lantern with Japanese lettering on the right. The foreground is diners from different walks of life.
Front of Business Card for Hikaru Shiki's husband of Sheila Michael's sushi restaurant

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Copyright Sheila Michaels, New York 1993<br /> 16 September 1993<br /> ROSH HASHANAH<br /> This holiday, which we familiarly call Rosh HaShanah, “Head of the Year”, or “The Head of The Change” – in it’s primary, literal meaning—is known in Torah (Leviticus 23:24) only as - followed by Hebrew letters The Memorial of the Trumpet Blast. Not any blast but the sounding of Alarm. Teruah signals the Israelites to resume their journey in the Wilderness. It is also an alarm or war. Whenever it is sounded, the Israelites must go forth, prepared to face hardship, the foe, or good fortune. But when the trumpet of alarm is sounded and they go forth to unknown dangers, they’re not alone. G-d promises Moses (Numbers 10:9) that when the Teruah is sounded for war, that the Israelites will : ‘be remembered of G-d, & saved.’ Which is a reason to call it “The Day of Remembrance”. The rest is Commentary. All the laws & customs of Rosh HaShanah over the millenia are accretions to these very small verses. The revelation to Moses for our observation of this festival is that we are to observe it with Sabbath rest, & that it is known to G-d as the day of The Remembrance of the Blast of Alarm: the …Hebrew letters. That is the name we are given for it.<br /> This is sublime poetry. The alarm signals the beginning of our journey, for in Judaism when we remember, we relive, as on Passover. We set forth into the Wilderness ahead, while we remember the past journeys into the Wilderness. A Sabbath is set aside for us as a time to relive and re-enact. The alarm is sounded for us, we are alerted that it is time for the camp to set forward & begin our journey. The signal is sounded on a day of Sabbath rest: the Sabbath of the Memorial of the Trumpet Alarm. This is a day of remembering & reliving our journey in the Wilderness – the Wilderness we entered after the Waters were parted for us. The personal Wilderness we entered after our Mother’s Waters parted for us, & the collective Wilderness of the Jewish people after slavery when we became free & responsible. When one is no longer a slave, but is responsible for one’s own actions, one enters a Wilderness. The possibilities for mistakes are limitless. One can abandon one’s moral precepts & fall into error or one can hew too closely to one’s precepts & fall into error: or one can miss the point completely & err through misunderstanding. These are some of the great problems of living as a free being. The Israelites erred in all these ways, & most of them suffered very greatly for it.<br /> There is also—for those of us who survived to this day—the Wilderness of the immediate past year, personally & communally. But, the blast of alarm is the signal to set forward, into the coming year, with blind faith that we will be led through the Wilderness before us. Remember, though, that the entire
Midrash written by Sheila Michaels for Rosh Hashanah.

Envelope of light blue Indian Aerogramme, from Sheila Michaels to Mr. & Mrs. H.H. Kessler. There is a dark blue rhino stamp in the lower left corner of the receiver section and an Indian red plane stamp in the upper right corner that has been postmarked. There are red and dark blue stripes around the border and between the receiver and sender address sections. The receiving address reads "Mr. & Mrs. H.H. Kessler #7 Dromara Road St. Louis, Missouri U.S.A.". The sender address reads "Sheila Michaels c/o Pask Restoute, GPO. Delhi, India". Text written along the left side of the sender section reads "They (illegible) to the gods here & eat it - that for your (illegible) testimonials."
Letter from Sheila Michaels in Delhi India to her parents in the United States.

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Envelope of light blue Surat Udara Aerogramme, from Sheila Michaels to Mr. & Mrs. H.H. Kessler. There is blue, yellow and green stamp with foliage and butterflies in the upper right corner of the receiver section that has been postmarked and a picture of an ornate building with palm trees in the lower right section of the receiver section. Text below the building, reads “Mayasia”. The receiving address reads “Mr. & Mrs. H.H. Kessler #7 Dromara Road. St. Louis County, Missouri 63124 U.S.A.” The sender address reads “Sheila Michaels 3 Meyer Place Singapore 15”. Three images of Malaysian ceremonial life are on the left side of the sender section. The bottom right of the sender section reads “Surat Udara Tiado Boleh Mengandungi APA – APA Lampiran Pun, Jika Di Dapatiada Akan Dikenakan Bayaran Lebih Atau Pun Dikirimkan Dengan Mel Biasa”
Letter written by Sheila Michaels in Singapore to her parents in the United States.

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TAXI<br /> By SHEILA MICHAELS<br /> This cabbie feels you have a right to a ride home, even in you live in Brooklyn. But please don’t call her.<br /> You have to drive a cab 12 hours a night to make it worthwhile, which means you’re just working and sleeping in order to make a living. After a few days, you’re not sure you’re heading uptown or down.<br /> I was ending my work week. The first couple of passengers were good talkers, pleasant — a policeman from Smithtown in for a two-week method course, an English businessman going for supper with a pretty woman. When I stopped at a light near Grand Central, a man knocked on the window and asked if I’d take him to Rockaway Blvd. I hadn’t gotten a long view of him, just the face at the window. My only impression was that he was working-class Irish, and that is damn near perfection in a passenger. I wasn’t quite sure where Rockaway was—somewhere near the airport—so I told him I’d go on his directions.<br /> I noticed he was pretty rumpled, when he got in, but not drunk. By law you can throw out a drunk. They forget where they’re going and if they don’t get sick they fall asleep, and they make trouble over money. But he wasn’t drunk. I figured he’d had a couple of drinks after a long day and decided he’d treat himself to a cab.<br /> I was going to connect to the Van Wyck, but he said to take Queens Blvd. straight out and he’d direct me. He was a very difficult passenger to talk to. I can usually think of a conversational opener, but nothing I thought of seemed right, so I just drove.<br /> When we hit Jamaica Ave., he told me to turn left. I thought the airport would be to the right, but he said he wanted to make another stop before he went home. A sick aunt he was worried about. He’d only look in and come right out. I said he’d have to pay me before he got out. He said he’d pay double if he had to; just keep going, it was another few miles. So I kept going and I kept checking to see if he’d fallen asleep, and he kept telling me to keep going. And then we passed a sign for Floral Park and I pulled over and said that if we were going out of the city limits, he’d have to pay double the meter. He said he knew that, just keep going. New Hyde Park, Garden CityPark, Mineola.<br /> One of the reasons I live in the city is that all trees and grass are the same, and the minute they surround you, you’re lost. What I would have given at the moment to be taking a youth gang in the South Bronx. It was raining and I could hardly see, and I was in nightmare territory with a passenger who didn’t talk and wasn’t worried about money. People ask if I don’t get scared. In the city, no; but anything can happen in Mineola. You read about it all the time. By Westbury the meter was already $15.95. I pulled off and asked for the full fare before we went on. He said he’d dropped his money in the back seat. I said we were going to the police.<br /> At the first filling station, I pulled over and asked the attendant to call the police. He ran over and caught the passenger as he was slipping away from the cab. The passenger, a guy about 50, aid that if I called his father, he would pay me. I was itching to get to the police and file a report. I’d lost two hours’ work and I owed the cab company $19.95 so far, and I was in Westbury. But I called the number and asked the answerer if he knew the man. The old father said, “You’ve got my son. Thank God! Don’t let him get away.” He was the last thing in the world I wanted to hang onto just then. I explained in a very shaky voice where we were, and why, and that out-of-town calls were double the meter. The father asked for my name and address and license, in case I should be up to something. The passenger misdirected me twice on the way there. <br /> We wound up in Lawrence, still outside the city limits. The house lights were blazing, and a jeep with lights trained on the driveway waited on the road. I left my motor running, and locked the car with a second set of keys. I carried my ear-shattering alarm with me, stood in the rain, and asked the passenger to ring the bell. If it was “Psycho” inside, I wanted him to get him first.<br /> The passenger walked in and sat down in front of a television set. His old father asked me in, a younger brother stood guarding the door. My meter read $35.85. The father gave me $40 and told me to keep the change. I reminded him that, aside from my grief and time, the law required double payment outside of the five boroughs. The old father patted me on the shoulder and said it had been difficult for him in the three years since his wife died. The house was neat but too warm and the paint was peeling. I had the feeling I was supposed to do something about his dead wife, besides expressing regrets. The brother was still standing by the door with arms folded. I took the $40 and went back to my cab.<br /> The time I found the road to the airport. I don’t usually work Kennedy, because I don’t like to wait there for hours and then pull a call to Jamaica. But it was 11:30, and where can you go to work in that neighborhood? Luckily, because of the rain, the airport was stripped. I was the only cab at the terminal. And I got a call to mid-terminal. And I got a call to mid-Brooklyn. You never ask a dispatcher whom you haven’t bribed to double up, because he’ll write you up. But it was raining, and there wan’t another cab, so he gave me a second Brooklyn, a woman nearer the bridge to Manhattan.<br /> The first passenger told me to take the Belt. The rain had caused an accident which tied up traffic for nearly $4 in waiting-time. When we reached his house, the fare was $18. We were almost as far from the second passenger’s house as if she had come straight from the airport. I suggested that he pay the full fare and she pay the difference. He said he would only pay $12. I thought it was unfair. She hadn’t insisted on the Belt, or urged me into the traffic. But he refused to pay his full share, and I had to accept the arrangement. The second passenger was a telephone representative, returning home from her son’s wedding in California. When we reached her house the meter read $22.50. She gave me $15, I said I still thought he had done her out of $6, and she told me that another cabdriver had offered to take them for $15 each, but he had refused.<br /> A passenger at Smith and Fulton then took me to Keap and Whyte in Williamsburg. And so I took the bridge back to Beautiful Manhattan.<br /> Dan Greenberg recently wrote about traveling with the police of the 9th Precinct in the meanest, vilest, rottenest, roughest, smelliest, baddest section of New York City. It happens to be where I pay $200 a month to live, but he never said it was cheap. So I decided to work my neighborhood: Baruch Houses, Riis Houses, Every street was flooded and it was raining too hard to tell when I was about to plunge up to the fender in water and eliminate my brakes for another 15 minutes. Finally the whole world was asleep, except Chinatown. At Kum Lau Square the restaurants that close to 5 a.m. were finally releasing their cooks and waiters. Eldridge, Essex, Allen, Pike. Splintering doorways, mildewed tenements thrown together a century ago. People carrying tips are easy marks — one reason I don’t turn in before dawn. Chinese waiters take cabs home for a five-minute walk. The cabbie waits until each man unlocks his door at home and waves.<br /> A Puerto Rican grocery clerk has been waiting at Essex and Delancey in the rain for 15 minutes for a cab to take<br /> continued on Page 19<br /> SUNDAY NEWS MAGAZINE*NEW YORK* JUNE 10, 1979
Taxi! Article written by Sheila MIchaels in 1979.

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