radio

Desert not a wasteland

Monument Valley in Utah. (photo from CBC Radio)

Having always lived in and around rainforest, CBC Vancouver’s Matthew Lazin-Ryder said the desert is a place he still struggles to fully understand.

“The desert has always seemed to be an imaginary place,” said Lazin-Ryder, contributing producer of the radio-documentary What Happens in the Desert. “My only contact with the desert has been in movies, storybooks, religious metaphors and things like that. The closest I have ever gotten to the real desert is having spent a little time in New Mexico, but, even then, I don’t think I was in true, scientific desert. My impression of what the desert was in my imagination was different than reality.

“One thing I wasn’t prepared for in my time in New Mexico was how cold it got at night, because it can get really cold. The imaginary desert in my mind was always hot – nights are sweltering, empty spaces, desolation.”

photo - Matthew Lazin-Ryder, contributing producer of the CBC radio-documentary What Happens in the Desert — Matthew Lazin-Ryder, contributing producer of the CBC radio-documentary What Happens in the Desert. *(photo from CBC Radio)*

In the radio documentary, which is an episode of the CBC Radio show Ideas, Lazin-Ryder explores various perceptions of the desert, stemming from culture, such as movies, novels and poetry, which often only portray one aspect of the landscape.

“An example we use in the documentary is Monument Valley in Utah, which, if you’ve seen a western film, it’s in so many movies,” Lazin-Ryder, who is a member of the Jewish community, told the Independent. “So, Monument Valley is that part of Utah, with red sand and rock, with these big towers of rock jutting out of the middle of the desert. John Ford, legendary western director, shot over 10 movies there at Monument Valley and lots of other classic western movies have used the backdrop of this valley as the setting.”

However, while it may seem that many films are shot in Monument Valley, most are actually shot in less-known locations in states like Texas, California and Arizona.

“It’s never specifically that this movie or story is taking place in Monument Valley,” said Lazin-Ryder. “It just becomes a symbol of the desert, which is a stand-in for an alien place, an exotic place, a place that you’ve never been to.”

From a religious perspective, the experts Lazin-Ryder interviews often speak of duality, where the desert is both a place where God is absent and where God is felt the strongest.

“The desert, in the Old Testament, is a place of deep spirituality and is also, for the Israelites, the place where they encounter God, where God travels with them,” he explained. “In the Christian New Testament and Christian culture later on, the desert becomes a place, not of exile and separation from God, but a place you go to escape civilization and to connect with God. Simultaneously, it’s a place where there are dangers … and the devil lives there and there are poisonous creatures, and it’s a place of death, wasteland and absence of God. But, at the same time, the desert is the place, both for the Israelites and early Christians, a place to go to connect with God.

“In a sense,” he said, “the desert, through its absence, represents God, because you can’t fully describe God – you can’t fully describe absence. The desert represents this strange relationship that we have with God, in a religious metaphor – at the same time that God is everything, God is nothing, and indescribable.”

In the documentary, Lazin-Ryder talks about the way the desert is portrayed in science-related and apocalyptic movies – movies that portray the future world as a desert; that climate change, if it continues apace, will leave the whole earth a desert.

“The seas will dry up, the forests will die and everything will be desert waste … which is not particularly an ecologically valid prediction … but, it’s a helpful metaphor for people to think about the dangers of climate change,” he said.

“The other thing is that, when talking about climate change and things like switching to less carbon-intensive energy, the desert becomes a very easy thing for people to say … ‘Hey! You know what would be great? Let’s just put a whole bunch of solar panels and windmills and stuff in the desert, because that’s empty land and it gets a lot of sun.’ You can Google it – there are all kinds of plans that people have pushed, to put acres and acres of solar panels in the Mojave Desert, the Sonoran Desert or the Sahara Desert.

“It’s this kind of a science-fiction idea that, hey, we have these empty spaces on the earth – let’s absolutely fill them with solar panels and windmills. But, the problem with that is – it comes from this thinking about deserts as though they are empty, ownerless places, absent of life. And, the problem is that that’s not true. Deserts are full of life, of plants and of animals that have adapted in interesting ways. And, we also don’t quite understand the place that deserts have in the broader ecosystem, in terms of the carbon cycle.”

While we hear in the news about desertification, in actuality only some deserts may get bigger and others drier, he said. Very few reports talk about the fact that some deserts may get wetter and, in a sense, shrink.

Desert systems are intricate and delicate and we, as humans, often only notice a change when it is already too late. Lazin-Ryder gave the example of the Joshua trees in the Mojave Desert that are dying, and the efforts to preserve them.

“Those kinds of problems are expected to increase as climate change goes on,” he said. But, talking about the desert as merely land available to fix the problems that we have created, “neglects the fact that they are not absent, marginal places. They actually have a place in the world. Deserts are a natural thing that should exist on the earth,” he said. “And there will be increasing pressures to put things in the desert, to put people in the desert, to grow food in the desert – despite the fact that they are as important and as under threat as places like the rainforests and wetlands that we’re trying to preserve. So, on one hand, we’re afraid the future might become desert, but, on the other hand, we may want to think about how to preserve the deserts we already have, as there are many threats to the desert.”

Lazin-Ryder hopes listeners of the documentary will gain a better grasp of the nuances of the desert. For most people in the West, he said, “interaction with the desert is in an imaginary sense … either in religious texts, fiction or movies.” The show tries to get people to consider “what those metaphors and symbols do to our thinking – not just about the desert, but of all the natural world; in what places are worth preserving, celebrating, and what places we think of as marginal, empty, dead or inherently bad.

“We get lots of stories told to us all the time, about what parts of the earth are good or bad,” he said. “I think, ultimately, beyond whether we’re talking about deserts, dry land or wet land, my ultimate hope is that it helps people think about the stories that we tell ourselves about the natural world, versus trying to gain an understanding about how the natural world actually works.”

To listen to What Happens in the Desert, visit cbc.ca/radio/podcasts/documentaries/the-best-of-ideas.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

Eclectic Jewish sounds

Andy Muchin with a record from his collection. (photo from Sounds Jewish)

The American South may not be the first place you would consider tuning the dial for an hour-long radio program that runs the gamut of Jewish music and many other audio facets of Yiddishkeit. That the show is assembled half the year on Vancouver Island might add another element of unexpectedness to the equation.

“I realize it might appear a bit incongruous,” Andrew Muchin told the Independent, from his Victoria home. “But, thanks to the internet age, things like this are no longer that difficult to do.”

Fifty weeks a year, Muchin goes through his collection of more than 1,000 vinyl records, scores of CDs and hour upon hour of digitized music to produce Sounds Jewish, a weekly radio program for Mississippi Public Broadcasting, based in Jackson, Miss. The show is broadcast on Sunday afternoons there and heard anytime online.

Having celebrated its ninth anniversary at the end of last September, Sounds Jewish focuses on a relevant theme, often within the Jewish and secular calendars. Avid listeners soon realize the problem for Muchin is not finding material but sifting through all the material that is out there. It takes several hours to select music for, record and produce each show, and programs often contain a range of offerings, anything from a 1960s comedy routine to Israeli hip-hop.

For American Thanksgiving in late November, Muchin spun a number of discs, including a Ladino number, “These Beautiful Tables” by the Ruth Yaakov Ensemble, and “Tish Niggun” (“Table Melody”) from the band Klezmer Plus! The show then mixed in songs of gratitude, such as a melodic rendition of Psalm 118 with Israeli singer/keyboardist Idan Raichel and Malian singer/guitarist Vieux Farka Touré and a counting of blessings from British singer Daniel Cainer – who opened the 2019 Chutzpah! Festival – in “How We’re Blessed,” from his album Jewish Chronicles.

In October, Muchin prepared a World Series show dedicated to Jews and baseball, and particularly to the home cities of the two teams involved in this year’s Fall Classic, the Houston Astros and the Washington Nationals. This show featured a country version of the prayer Modeh Ani from Houston-born country singer-songwriter Joe Buchanan; a cut from Kramer’s The Greenberg Variations, an instrumental tribute to Detroit slugger Hank Greenberg; and ballpark favourites “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” and “God Bless America” belted out in Yiddish by Mandy Patinkin.

In marking recent holidays and occasions, Muchin has taken his listeners on a musical tour of Jewish labour songs ahead of Labour Day, rhythmically reminded them of many sins to avoid during the month of Elul, leading up to the High Holidays, and melodically explored the ongoing desire for self-improvement ahead of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.

“I try never to be preachy, but I like to inform my listeners of various Jewish or Jewy practices they can incorporate in their lives – or not. Mostly, though, Sounds Jewish presents the diversity of Jewish music across time and space. To my ear, Jewish music is the ultimate world music, since Jews have lived almost everywhere on earth, blending the native music with Jewish themes,” he said.

A native of Manitowoc, Wis., Muchin was raised in a traditional Jewish home, growing up versed in Hebrew and liturgical melodies. He later learned Israeli songs at a Zionist summer camp, but said he didn’t become steeped in Jewish music until long after the klezmer revival of the 1970s.

Muchin has been active in Jewish media and Jewish life since 1986, when he started as an assistant editor for the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. He moved back to his home state to serve as editor for the Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle in Milwaukee and edited and co-published (with Marge Eiseman) Jewish Heartland magazine. He also has written for the Forward, Moment, Jewish Week and numerous other publications.

In 2009, Muchin landed in Jackson, as the cultural program director of the Goldring/Woldenberg Institute of Southern Jewish Life, a nonprofit that provides a variety of educational, cultural and religious services to underserved Jewish communities throughout the South. There, he met the director of Mississippi Public Broadcasting’s radio division, Jason Klein, who also happened to be Jewish, and Sounds Jewish took flight.

In Victoria, Muchin served as director of the 2019 Victoria International Jewish Film Festival and has written and presented two Purim shpiels (plays).

As for the future of Sounds Jewish, Muchin hopes to continue adding to his Jewish music collection – he said he accepts donations of LPs – and to broaden and deepen the content of the show.

“I expect the show to have an increasingly Canadian feel as I learn more about the very creative Canadian Jewish music scene and its history,” he said.

Sounds Jewish can be heard at mpbonline.org/soundsjewish, exchange.prx.org/series/32262-sounds-jewish and radio-j.com.

Sam Margolis has written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.

Recalling the heyday of radio

The writer’s father listening to the radio, circa 1940. (photo from Libby Simon)

This black-and-white picture, lined with age, was taken of Papa in about 1940. His attire reflects a time when a vest was commonly worn under a man’s suit jacket. It is rarely seen today, nor is the armband on his shirtsleeve. His white shirt makes the ensemble too formal to be worn at home, especially with his often-repaired dress shoes. But Papa was a Hebrew teacher and, perhaps uniquely to him, he always dressed as if he were going out. The bare, worn floor reveals a modest home, not uncommon in the 1930s, considering the widespread impacts of the Great Depression.

He sits in rapt attention, hunched on a stool, his expression tense, his eyes fixed on an old, brown, wooden floor radio. We grew up with that radio the way people grow up today with television. It connected our family with the outside world, but each for different reasons. As immigrants, Yiddish was our first language and, for him, radio undoubtedly served as an opportunity to hone his English, as well as to receive its messages. Although I was still a preschooler, I remember what he was listening to because the scene in this photo was repeated several times every day from 1939 to 1945, the years of the Second World War. Papa was listening to the news. But the true catastrophic human saga unfolding beyond the photo, even as he listened, would not emerge until after the war ended.

Fortunately, we here in Canada escaped the devastating fate of our relatives. As a child, I was only aware that certain foods were rationed, like tea, coffee, sugar and butter. My four brothers and I would fight over the krychik (Yiddish for the end piece of a rye bread). It was not the bread itself, but the limited availability of butter on the krychik that made this a special treat worthy enough to be fought over. If Papa were home, he would assign it to me as the youngest and as the only girl, much to the dismay of my brothers. But the rations coupon books provided by the Canadian government gradually extended to include many other staples, such as meat, cheese and evaporated milk. These were needed for the soldiers and the war effort.

I also remember short musical promotions appealing to Canadians to buy Victory Bonds. As a second-grader, I stood up in class one day and patriotically sang one such little ditty, which still reverberates in my memory. My substitution of the word “bun” for “bond” exposes my childhood ignorance that I only came to realize in retrospect as an adult. The lyrics go as follows:

“Buy a ‘bun’ V for Victory / Show you’re fond of your liberty / Keep on buying to keep them flying, / And don’t ever stop till they’re over the top.

“Every dollar makes Hitler holler / And every ‘bun’ you buy will make him groan / So help flood our Chest, / Do your best and invest / In Canada’s Victory Loan.

“Oh, Canada, we stand on guard for thee.”

The radio became such a central focus and source of news that, when the war ended in 1945, I wondered what would happen to it. “Papa,” I asked, “now that the war is over, will they close the radio?”

“Why do you think they will close the radio?”

“Because,” I answered, “what else would they have to talk about?”

It was then I learned that radio not only delivered news about war. It also provided entertainment. For example, I discovered Hockey Night in Canada. My brothers and I would huddle around the radio every Saturday night and listen to Foster Hewitt, in his inimitable high-pitched excitement shout, “He shoots! He scores!” The contagion caused a clutch of five kids to holler in unison along with the sound of the roaring crowd – but only for the Toronto Maple Leafs. In time, I became a hockey aficionado, and could spout names like Syl Apps, Turk Broda or even Conn Smythe, their manager. Establishment of the Hot Stove League began during those early years and continues to this day.

We used to listen to shows like John & Judy, a serial about life in a small Canadian city, and Share the Wealth, with Bert Pearl. And Second World War songs filled the airwaves, like the “White Cliffs of Dover,” referring to the Battle of Britain. “We’ll Meet Again,” a song that resonated especially with soldiers off to battle and their families and sweethearts who had the heartbreak of waiting and not knowing if they would ever return.

Papa’s faded photo tells not only a personal story, but the story of many in Canada. It also highlights the role of radio in our lives. It served to bring the world into our homes between two catastrophic events – the Great Depression and the Second World War. We cannot overlook its importance as a medium of communication that brought the world into millions of living rooms across the country.

Of course, time brings change. My parents are long gone and my siblings and I have dispersed across North America. Radio was eventually muscled out by television but, today, you can “turn your radio on” in a resurgence of popularity. As a segment of mass media, the power of radio has infiltrated our lives again, even on the internet. And, online, you can go back to your childhood with “retro music” and shows like Roy Rogers and The Lone Ranger. It still connects us, though without taking up nearly as much floor space.

Libby Simon, MSW, worked in child welfare services prior to joining the Child Guidance Clinic in Winnipeg as a school social worker and parent educator for 20 years. Also a freelance writer, her writing has appeared in Canada, the United States, and internationally, in such outlets as Canadian Living, CBC, Winnipeg Free Press, PsychCentral and Cardus, a Canadian research and educational public policy think tank.