All posts by Teri

My Chavah

March 12, 2016Blog FictionTeri

Rummaging through some boxes buried in the corner of a closet yesterday, I found a dossier of my earlier writings. It was a treasure trove of poems, plays, and short stories I had long ago forgotten about. It seems that everywhere I organize these days, files and files of writings of yore keep popping up.

I wrote the short story My Chava back in 1996 after a Hamas suicide bomber blew himself up outside Dizengoff Center in downtown Tel Aviv, killing 13 Israelis and wounding 130 more. In watching an interview with a mother who lost her young daughter, I was haunted by her words, her loss, and her unrecoverable heartbreak.

My Chavah’s favorite holiday was Purim, and she was obsessed with Esther. As I helped to dress her for the Purim celebration, she excitedly told me the story of how Esther became Queen of Persia.

For several years, she had insisted on dressing up as Queen Esther. This year would be no different—except that we were celebrating Purim in Tel Aviv, where a grand celebration and best costume contest was being held. Chavah was determined to look her Esther best and win.

And she certainly looked beautiful that day. Dressed in royal blue satin, she looked every bit the Jewish heroine she portrayed. Her crown of gold glitter sat regally and securely on her long, cascading black hair, despite her vigorously waving the matching scepter in the surrounding air.

While I braided her thick, silky hair, Chavah chattered on in triumphant animation. “Twenty-five years ago in ancient Persia, the King was not happy with his disobedient wife Vashti, so he held a beauty pageant in search of his true love. Esther was chosen, became Queen, and then saved all the Jews of Persia from death. And they called the festival to celebrate the courage of Esther and the safety of the Jewish people Purim!”

Her lovely face was full of excitement as we put the final touches on her hair and makeup. Gazing into her dark eyes, I was filled with an overwhelming feeling of love and warmth.

“We’ll call her Chavah,” I told my husband Ari the day she was born. Meaning “breath of life,” Chavah was the wife of Adam—the first woman on earth. The mother of all living. And I suppose, like any other new mother, I fervently prayed to God for a blessed life for my newborn child.

It was obvious from the beginning that Chavah was uniquely full of vitality and soul, an irrefutable gift from God. She was nurturing, kind, sensitive, motherly, otherworldly, and wise beyond her years. And it wasn’t just my opinion. Our entire family reveled in the blessing that was Chavah.

As she twirled around in her full-skirted gown, my mind wandered to the day when Itzhak, our handyman, was working in our house, repairing a bookshelf. It toppled over, and the shelf and books came crashing down on him. “Chavah came running into the room to help me up,” Itzhak reminisced. “That’s when she noticed my arm.”

Itzhak had spent many years in a Jewish ghetto and three years in a concentration camp as a young boy. His identifying numbers had been burned into his arm—a lifelong reminder that he was a victim, a survivor, and a Jew. “She touched my forearm with such tenderness, tracing the numbers with her little fingers. When I looked up at her, tears welled in her eyes as she softly said: “Blessed is the match.” “I looked at her shocked, for her words were the first few of a poem that I could never forget.”

Itzhak explained to me that the poem was written during the Nazi occupation of Europe by the Jewish freedom fighter Hanna Senesch. Hanna was a 23-year-old woman tortured and then murdered by the Nazis for rescuing Hungarian Jews. According to Itzhak, Hanna’s poetry was revered and loved throughout Israel, a reminder of the struggle to liberate the Jewish people and build a Jewish state. I had no idea that Chavah knew of Hana Senesch, let alone her poetry.

“She recited it word for word,” Itzhak told me incredulously and repeated it to me as he had heard it from her.

Blessed is the match consumed in the kindling flame.
Blessed is the flame that burns in the heart’s secret places.
Blessed is the heart with strength to stop its beating for honor’s sake.
Blessed is the match consumed in the kindling flame.

Ari’s love for Israel and his desire to emigrate increased with Chavah’s birth. We spent every summer there, each trip richer in experience than the one before. A magnificent country of lush green, built on dunes of desert and sand. The dream of a homeland, concentrated in a space the size of New Jersey, its national anthem sadly titled “Hatikvah,” The Hope.

While I cherished our summers in Israel, I felt ambivalent about moving there. My friends and family were all in New York, and making new acquaintances was never my forte. I also worried about Chavah—and what would be best for her. In usual Chavah fashion, she wanted what I wanted, even though her choice would have been to move to Israel.

Israel was in her heart and in her blood. She appreciated everything about it. The stone mosaic promenade stretching along the Mediterranean Sea in Tel Aviv, the Judean Desert, and the Tower of David in the Old City of Jerusalem were but a few of her revered places.

I will never forget the summer we climbed Masada, the mountaintop fortress made of desert rock more than 1,600 feet high where Jews became martyrs. The three of us climbed it with intense determination. I recalled thinking back then that, as a child of only nine years, Chavah had incredible endurance and stamina. In the brutal heat of August, we watched the sun seemingly rise directly out of the Dead Sea. The fiery orange ball lit the dark sky over an eerie sea of nothing. The Dead Sea was the brightest green I had ever seen—so majestically beautiful yet so devoid of life.

I found Chavah high among the clouds, in the ancient ruins of the Masada Temple, on her knees, eyes closed, her face tilted up toward the sun’s scorching rays. A hazy light enveloped her, creating an ethereal halo all around her. She prayed so diligently, so wholeheartedly. Never one for prayer, I knew at that moment that she was exceptional. The thought crossed my mind that Chavah and God had formed an everlasting and exceptional bond that might possibly be stronger than any bond we as her family would ever have with her.

In the end, Ari’s desire to emigrate was stronger than my fear of leaving friends and family. So we left Flatbush for Israel, making a permanent home in Tel Aviv. Our apartment overlooked the Mediterranean Sea that my Chavah loved so dearly, and we quickly assimilated into life in the ancient and glorious land.

It was a perfect day for the Purim festival. The sun was shining brightly, the weather warm and pleasant. The square was brimming with young children dressed in brightly colored costumes. The crowd was singing and dancing in celebration of the festival. The stores were bustling with people, and the streets were filled with joy and laughter.

“Ima, Ima, look here,” Chavah gleefully shouted to me from across the square. I gazed at her lovingly and smiled as I waved, full of immense pride and pleasure.

And then my eyes moved a mere foot away from her to a young man in his early twenties. My eyes locked on his. In that split second, I knew why he was there. As if looking down at the scene from above and in excruciatingly slow motion, I howled Chavah’s name. My voice sounded dull and guttural, like a phonograph record being played at the wrong speed.

As I began to sprint toward Chavah, he pressed something in his hand, and I knew life would never be the same for us again. “NOOOOOO,” I roared helplessly, the same sluggish, growling tone spewing from my mouth.

Then he imploded, bits and pieces of flesh and metal hurtling everywhere. Something solid and sharp blew into my chest, and blood spurted from me. I felt nothing—until I saw my beloved Chavah, one leg missing, her crown and matching scepter next to where her head should have been. Ravaged by pain—piercing, excruciating, unbearable pain, I heard a woman screaming. The wailing was horrific and heartbreaking. In my disordered state, the thought kept crashing through my tortured mind that it was impossible someone could feel more pain than me.

As I cradled the shattered, dismembered body of my beloved Chavah, it was then that I realized the screaming was mine.

NOTE: On March 4, 1996, on the eve of Purim, Hamas murdered 13 Israelis, children, and adults and wounded 130 in a terrorist attack in Tel Aviv. The attack was the fourth suicide bombing in Israel in nine days, bringing the death toll during that span to over 60. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwkNTvxs9Lw

The Fishers Island Prophecy

February 28, 2016Blog FictionFishers IslandTeri

She started to have her doubts about whether or not he was “the one” several weeks before the wedding day.

But the invitations had already gone out and the down payments for the reception, photographer, band, and florist had long been paid.

She confided her trepidation to her best friend who said it was “normal to get cold feet.” She didn’t feel like this was normal at all. And her feet? They were colder than ice.

At her bridal shower, she feigned enthusiasm for among many things, the crockpot, copper cookware, Waterford crystal, and the state-of-the-art Cuisinart she received.

A few days later, she reviewed the photographs of her overly beaming smiley self, head adorned with a fuchsia paper plate, overflowing with colorful ribbons and bows from the myriad wedding gifts. “I’m happy, right?” she kept asking herself as she analyzed each snapshot.

But as she stared into her lifeless eyes in photo after photo, the answer was painfully clear. There was no happiness to be found. And she was about to make a life-altering mistake.

She decided to sit her soon-to-be husband down for the “talk,” when he picked her up for dinner that night. But when he walked through her apartment door, he excitedly announced that he had a wedding gift for her.

When he put a blindfold over her eyes, she was ecstatic. She was driving around in a hunk of junk, so she was convinced his present was a new car.

At that moment, she felt terribly guilt-ridden over the discordant noise she was hearing in her head and pushed it completely out of her mind. He loved her enough to buy her a car! How insensitive and overly neurotic she was being.

He took her outside and when he removed her blindfold, she was flabbergasted as she stared at him in wonderment.

He was euphoric and happily chirped, “She’s a 28 foot Columbia sailboat built back in 1970! She’s a real beauty and a perfect weekend cruiser. And she’s built like a tank!”

She?

He gushed on, completely oblivious to her disappointment and dismay. “She’s not the fastest boat, but her weather-handling capabilities make up for her heavy build,” he droned on.

She stared incredulously at her soulmate. “He bought me a sailboat, because?” she asked herself as she tried to put all the pieces of the love puzzle together.

He mistook her wordlessness for something positive. “And the top-secret romantic getaway I planned for you is to sail Joanie in and around Long Island Sound!”

She mustered enough strength to ask, “Joanie?”

This was a double whammy. As a wedding gift, he had promised to “book” a mystery trip for her. Who knew he was going to buy himself a boat disguised as a honeymoon?

“Joanie is the name of the original owner’s wife. I didn’t have time to change it,” he responded, completely unaware of his selfish narcissism.

The next day she sat her mother down to give her the devastating news. She was calling off the wedding. “Absolutely not,” her mother replied definitively. “He adores you, his family adores you, and it’s simply too late.”

“He bought himself a boat instead of booking us a honeymoon,” she whined to her mother, who made some lame excuse for him and refused to listen to another nonsensical word.

So they got married in a waterfront setting, under a tent, during a furious storm of lightning, thunder, pounding rain, and crazy wind. Everyone kept coming up to them and saying how lucky they were—that the rain was a sure sign of good luck on the day of.

She was despondent and positive that the storm on her wedding day was a sure sign that her marriage was doomed.

She reluctantly made her way toward the tent, on a soggy red carpet, as the wind howled around her.

The wedding and the reception were an abysmal failure. The tent was swaying and leaking, her designer shoes and dress were a muddy mess, and they couldn’t go on their honeymoon because the boat was useless in a storm. So they lounged around in her apartment for two days, waiting for the bad weather to lift. She was depressed and beyond miserable. He was in complete denial.

As soon as the weather cooperated they set sail. His first surprise stop was Fishers Island where he booked one night at the Pequot Inn. He excitedly gave her the Island rundown: At nine miles long and one mile wide, it was an idyllic setting off the Connecticut coast. As he chattered non-stop about Fishers Island, and how she was going to fall in love with it, she was pipe dreaming of Hawaii or Barbados.

They arrived at the Island mid-afternoon. He dropped anchor, threw their collapsible bikes and an overnight bag into the motor dinghy that came with Joanie, and they boated to shore.

She was still furious about Joanie but admittedly loved everything about Fishers Island. Their bike ride to the Pequot Inn was magical. The smell of lilacs permeated the air, the creeping juniper blanketed the landscape, and the pristine deserted beaches adorned the ocean. The hotel was New-England-style quaint, and she actually started to relax and unwind a bit.

After they awkwardly watched a beautiful sunset together, she tried to drum up some romantic connection during dinner. But it was discomfiting and forced, and she found him to be self-absorbed and wondered what she had seen in him in the first place.

She had voiced her unhappiness about his extremely expensive-and-unwanted-boat purchase during the stormy waiting period before the trip, so he knew that the silent treatment she was pouring on him stemmed from little Miss Joanie.

After dinner, he suggested they go for a walk. As they meandered quietly through the darkness, she thought she heard a mewling sound. She grabbed his arm and was apprehensive when she spotted something in the middle of the dark road.

As they approached the inanimate object, she turned her head away from the gruesomely flattened cat. But where was the crying coming from? They followed the whimpering, to the side of the road, where they discovered a tiny kitten, visibly suffering from malnutrition, and near death.

Her motherly instinct kicked in, and she refused to leave the kitten there to die. She told him to run back to the Pequot Inn and bring back a box while she bent down and tried to comfort the scared and withering kitten. She noticed that one leg was bent out at a contorted angle.

When he came back with a shoebox and hand towel, she picked up the withering feline and wrapped it carefully in the box. She insisted on taking the kitten directly to the dinghy, and then onto Joanie, where she safely rested the box in a corner of the deck.

She went below, grabbed some milk and a teaspoon, and was relieved as the kitten furiously lapped it up. She rationalized in her head that if the kitten was still alive when they came back to the boat to set sail the next morning, it was a marriage sign.

Whether the sign would mean her marriage was on or her marriage was off, she hadn’t quite figured out yet. But she was sure that it would all be clear to her in due time.

She worried about that kitten all night, and any unhappy thoughts of her marriage, and Joanie went out the window. She woke up as the sun was rising, and rode her bike to a deserted beach, and fervently prayed that she would find the kitten alive and well.

When they boarded the boat, later that morning, it was a dreary, dismal day. The kitten was still alive, although weak and severely maimed. She went to the refrigerator, grabbed more milk, and gave the kitten some much-needed nourishment.

She securely covered the shoebox with a mesh shirt, and carefully placed it and the kitten in a bolted corner drawer in the galley below. She partially closed the drawer and tried to ignore the weak meowing coming from the box.

They pulled anchor and set sail.

An hour or so into the trip, a storm brewed. “Secure loose items and equipment on the deck and in the cabin,” he ordered her. “And make sure all the drawers and windows below are closed.” She fearfully scrutinized the turbulent surroundings and could see nothing of Fishers Island or any other mass of land.

The wind was wild and the water was churning violently, tossing the boat around like a wine cork. The drumming rain and sea spray slapped against her face making it near impossible to see. She frantically suggested that they go back to Fishers Island, but he yelled to her that the best thing they could do was to go windward into the deepest water they could find.

She went below and secured and closed everything possible, and checked on the frail but watchful kitten. As she caressed its tiny head, it searched her eyes and purred weakly. She reluctantly left it in the drawer, and hastily climbed back up to the deck where they thrashed around while donning life jackets. Then they tethered themselves to a rail.

The seas were rough and the dark and menacing waves crashed onto the deck and into the cockpit, swirling around her ankles. Joanie tilted at a 45-degree angle and the pitching caused her to vomit.

She silently begged God to protect her—and the kitten. She played over and over in her head all the things she would do with her life if she were saved.

They eventually weathered the storm, but it was a frightening, out-of-body experience. She wanted off the boat. She wanted off her life. She was so fed up with him—and his precious Joanie. When they finally docked in Old Lyme, Connecticut, her mind was a tangle of turmoil.

The first thing she did was to check on the kitten who was elated to see her, licking her finger with its tiny sandpapery tongue. It tried to sit up but was unable to move due to its injured leg.

“We’re going to be okay,” she whispered softly to the kitten. She carefully took the box, the kitten, and her suitcase off the boat. She was overjoyed to feel land beneath her feet. When he asked her where she was going, she told him the truth. She had absolutely no idea.

He reminded her that they hadn’t even been married one week. He asked her if she was out of her mind. “No,” she quietly answered, “just out of love.”

We Are All Flint Michigan

February 24, 2016EnvironmentTeri

The water in my laundry room sink on 2/19/16

For more information on the local Nassau County water, go to: https://blog.terischure.com/why-is-my-water-brown/

This blog post is going to be more like a slog post, but please bear with it because you will not believe our nation’s water situation.

Here is the million-dollar question: Do you know what’s in your tap water?

As you can see from the picture of my water last week, I certainly had no clue as to what was in my tap water. And after umpteen hours and days of research, I still don’t.

First things first, though. I would like to state a disclaimer right up front:

All data and information provided in this blog post are for informational purposes only. And since pouring through the various information on many governmental and water supplier websites was like trying to cure cancer, I make no representations as to the accuracy, completeness, currentness, suitability, or validity of any information in this blog post and will not be liable for any errors, omissions, or delays in this information or any losses, injuries, or damages arising from its display or use. All information is provided on an as-is basis.

Okay, now I’m ready to start at the very beginning.

Every year, the Safe Drinking Water Act (SDWA), the legal basis for regulating public drinking water, requires all water suppliers to submit an annual report to every customer on contaminants in their drinking water (EPA 2006c).

But from my research, it doesn’t seem that these reports show us what’s really in our tap water. They don’t contain information on unregulated chemicals for which testing is not required by states or the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), and they provide only average levels of most contaminants.

So the water companies are able to tell their customers that they are delivering clean, high-quality drinking water, an incredible accomplishment considering the subpar quality of the water in many cases, including mine.

How is this possible?

Because the federal standards that the SDWA has set don’t necessarily guarantee your water is perfectly safe to drink.

According to what I was able to find on the EPA.gov website, over seven hundred substances have been cataloged as potential contaminants, yet under the 1974 SDWA, there are only 90 contaminants public water systems need to worry about, report, or test.

Additionally, since 2004, more than half of the chemicals detected through testing can legally be present in any amount because they are not subject to health or safety regulations.

More disturbing than the slim picking and choosing of contaminants—the Safe Drinking Water Act has a Contaminant Candidate List (CCL) of 100 chemicals and 12 microbial contaminants that are currently not subject to any drinking water regulations whatsoever but are known or anticipated to occur in public water systems. This list includes pesticides, disinfection byproducts, chemicals used in commerce, pharmaceuticals, and waterborne pathogens.

And get this one-liner pulled directly from the EPA.gov website:

“Once the CCL is published, the SDWA requires the EPA to determine whether or not to regulate at least five candidate contaminants from the list within five years after the completion of the previous round of regulatory determinations.”

Say that again? At least five in five years?

According to the advocacy organization Environmental Working Group’s website EWG.org, “The majority of current drinking water standards were set in 1991 and 1992 and our government hasn’t set a single new drinking water standard since 2001.”

Over the years, I have taken many photos of my discolored water and even called New York American Water to complain about and report the problem. Each and every time I called, I was reassured that my water was safe and that the discolored and sometimes foul-smelling water was temporary due to the flushing out of their pipes.

Except that my water can be brown or smell funky much more often than just when New York American Water flushed their system. And it wasn’t just the water. I have, on many occasions, been forced to throw out my ice because it looked completely fine, but the smell was so rancid that it stunk up my freezer.

And the water has wreaked havoc on my toilet bowls, discoloring them with stripes of dark brown, leaving me paranoid that my guests think that I don’t clean well.

For those of you who know me personally, it’s no secret that I am a manic germaphobe and a neat freak. So how did this horrendous water situation sneak past me?

When buying a refrigerator a few years ago, I made a point of staying away from any models with a water dispenser. After ditching my smelly refrigerator ice, I certainly wasn’t rushing to drink water from any fridge. Thanks but no thanks.

And I long ago stopped drinking my tap water. But let’s be real here. I shower and brush my teeth with it, bathe in it, use it for cooking and coffee, and wash my raw fruits and vegetables in it.

This water is in every pore of my body without ever having to drink a drop of it.

A month or so ago, the flow of my hot water seemed compromised and I noticed that when taking a shower, it was running cold very quickly. I also noticed a weird metal-like taste combined with a strong chlorine smell in the water and started to see dirt-like sediment sitting on the bottom of all of my toilet bowls.

Last week, my hot water became so brown and foul smelling that I made an emergency call to a plumber, who recommended that I empty out my water heater and flush my pipes—immediately.

“This is what you’ve been drinking,” the plumber repeated over and over again as he emptied the filthy, sludgy water out of my cold and hot water pipes.

And he was adamant that everyone should flush out their systems once a year.

Who knew? When was the last time you emptied your hot water heater and flushed your pipes?

Once the plumber left, I went to the New York American Water website and eventually found two sentences buried in the Water Quality & Stewardship heading and then Iron in Your Drinking Water on a drop-down menu. “Flush your water heater on a regular basis. It is important to flush the heater on a regular basis according to the manufacturer’s recommendation.”

I then jumped right on my hot water heater company’s website to see if they had any manufacturer’s recommendations and found absolutely nothing.

Getting back to New York American’s website. There is a section on what they are doing to improve the water. Except that it’s dated 2013.

So does that mean they haven’t updated this section for 2+ years? As we saw from Flint, Michigan, a lot can happen in two years.

Now I consider myself to be an intelligent and healthy-minded woman. I am, however, appalled and embarrassed that I had absolutely no clue that I was supposed to flush anything but my toilets. But after witnessing the muck and gunk that oozed out of my faucets and water heater, I’m on official 12-month flushing notice. Make that a 6-month notice.

Plumber recommendation or not, I am honestly afraid to wait 12 months, despite the fact that according to New York American Water’s own claims on their website: “We hold ourselves to the highest standards in delivering clean, high-quality drinking water to the people we serve.”

Just as a reminder, take another look at my water.

Additionally, New York American Water had this to say about their regulation compliance: “When it comes to complying with strict federal regulations, we’ve consistently scored among the highest of all water companies. Last year, New York American Water’s compliance record for meeting primary state and federal drinking water standards was 100 percent.”

New York American Water scores among the highest of all water companies? The sludge and filth in my photos surely tell an entirely different story.

After carefully scrutinizing the New York American Water website, I kept going back to my photos and videos and couldn’t help but wonder what score the federal regulators would give the dregs that spewed out of my pipes and hot water heater.

I doubt they would give it a 100.

I also kept going back to Flint, Michigan. For nearly two years, the residents there have been slowly poisoned by lead in their drinking water. If our federal regulators dropped the water ball there, maybe they missed something in my little hamlet.

And if my photos are any indication of what my neighbors may have lurking in their pipes and hot water heaters (according to the plumber who flushed out my system, they all have what I have), I sincerely hope they are reading this blog.

I continued to do my due diligence and spent days researching various sites hoping for some shred of good news. But that wasn’t in the water cards. All I found were more and more alarming tidbits.

The bottom line is that sewer overflows and aging infrastructure are significant contributors to drinking water quality problems in our country. And our nation has failed to invest the funds needed to renew and replace our essential drinking water infrastructure. The result is an antiquated system that not only poses serious health and safety risks but is also prone to dangerous leaks and failures.

Ten long years ago, the American Society of Civil Engineers gave American drinking water infrastructure an overall grade of D-minus. According to the study, our declining water system, including aging wastewater facilities and leaking drinking water pipes, is a threat to the nation’s prosperity. The study went on to say that time was working against our country’s infrastructure and that it would cost untold billions of dollars to replace aging facilities that are near the end of their useful lives and to comply with existing and future federal water regulations.

And speaking of federal water regulations: From what I read, legal limits are established by the Safe Drinking Water Act, although a stricter health guideline for drinking water quality has been created by the World Health Organization. A least, I think it’s the WHO. It was near impossible to get a precise fix on who does what.

So in many cases, your water may contain contaminants below legal limits but above health guidelines. This part of my research was very clear.

Does my water look legal and/or healthy to you?

According to the Environment Working Group website, the water in my county from test data available from 2004-2008 was not as high-quality and clean as New York American Water would have me believe.

There were 16 contaminants in our water. The National contaminants average is 4.

And get this one: All 16 contaminants exceeded the health limit.

And the dreaded Lead was one of those contaminants.

Of the 16 contaminants, 2 exceeded the legal limit:

Manganese (Industrial contaminant)

Aluminum (A metal released from metal refineries and mining operations)

Now if these contaminants exceeded the legal limit, they must be unhealthy, correct?

So, of course, I looked up Manganese and Aluminum in water and found this information on the CT.gov website about Manganese:

Manganese: Exposure to high concentrations of manganese over the course of years has been associated with toxicity to the nervous system, producing a syndrome that resembles Parkinsonism. In addition, young children appear to absorb more manganese than older age groups but excrete less. This adds up to a greater potential for exposure in the very young. Since manganese’s effects on the developing nervous system have not been adequately studied, it is especially prudent for pregnant women and young children to have drinking water that is below the manganese AL. You may suspect that manganese is in your water if the water is discolored (brownish-red), causes staining of plumbing fixtures (faucets, sinks) or clothing, or has an off-taste or odor. If this is the case, you should have your water tested by a state-certified laboratory for manganese. When you get the results, you should contact your local health department to help you interpret the results. There are no enforceable federal drinking water standards for manganese. The CT Department of Public Health recently set a drinking water Action Level (AL) for manganese of 0.5 mg/l to ensure protection against manganese toxicity. This AL is consistent with the World Health Organization guidance level for manganese in drinking water.

And I found this information about Aluminum on the Pure Water Products website:

Aluminum: At high concentrations, there is evidence linking aluminum to its effects on the nervous system, with possible connections to several diseases, such as Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, and Lou Gehrig’s disease. The American Water Works Association recommends that concentrations of aluminum in drinking water should not exceed 0.05 parts per million (0.05 ppm or mg/L). The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency recommends that the level not exceed 0.2 ppm.

Okay, so I’m no scientist, but according to the test data from 2004-2008, Manganese exceeded the legal limit by 50 ppb, whatever that means. And Aluminum exceeded the legal limit by 200 ppb. Can someone who knows the difference between ppm, ppb, and mg/l help me out here?

Oh, and let’s not forget about the additional 14 contaminants that exceeded the health limit:

Dibromochloromethane (A disinfection byproduct)

Bromoform (A disinfection byproduct)

Lead (A metal that enters the water by corrosion of household plumbing systems, discharge of industrial pollution, and erosion of natural deposits)

Bromodichloromethane (A disinfection byproduct)

Alpha particle activity (A form of radiation released from mining waste pollutants and natural sources)

Radium-228 (A radioactive element usually found around uranium deposits)

Tetrachloroethylene (A common soil and groundwater contaminant used in dry cleaning and as a solvent in automotive and metalworking factories and other industries.)

Trichloroethylene (Used to remove grease from fabricated metal parts and in the production of some textiles, and comes from metal degreasing sites, metal finishing, and rubber processing industries.)

Arsenic (Contaminates water due to mining runoff, erosion of natural deposits, emissions from glass and electronics processing, and the use of arsenical compounds such as wood preservatives and pesticides.)

Chloroform (A disinfection byproduct)

Total halo acetic acids (Refers to the sum of five related disinfection byproducts)

Total trihalomethanes (Constitutes the sum of four disinfection byproducts)

Di(2-ethylhexyl) phthalate (A pollutant from rubber and industrial chemical factories and leachate from PVC pipes; it is classified by EPA as a probable human carcinogen.) FYI: Leachate is water that has percolated through a solid and leached out.

Radium-226 (A radioactive element usually found around uranium deposits)

There were also 13 additional contaminants found in the water, but none of them exceeded the legal or health limits. I won’t bore you with the gory details.

So as far as I can tell, the above information is what’s lurking about in our Nassau County tap water.

As if this news wasn’t bad enough, I received a 2016 Spring Flushing pamphlet in the mail from New York American Water this week.

It seems they will be flushing North Woodmere (my hamlet) Monday-Friday, 8am-4pm from April 11 through April 21.

According to the New York American Water pamphlet, flushing their system helps to clean out any buildup of mineral deposits and sediment inside their pipes. They went on to say that discolored water may occur because the sediment in the water mains gets stirred up. They assured in the pamphlet that the discolored water is not harmful and we should simply let our water run until it is clear.

After writing this blog post, I am beyond pessimistic about anything I am told about my water.

And when New York American Water flushes their pipes for TEN days, I have to wonder what corrosion and other dangerous materials are being dislodged from their systems and flowing into mine.

Sorry New York American Water, but I am not reassured.

And lastly, here is what they said I need to do to prepare for the ten days of flushing in my area:

- Draw water for cooking ahead of time. (For ten days?!)
- Store a large bottle of water in the refrigerator for drinking. (Just one?)
- Check for discolored water before using the washing machine or dishwasher. (Seriously?)

Note: If your laundry becomes stained, rewash clothes immediately using a heavy-duty detergent and add a rust remover. (I should wash my clothes with rust remover?)

So, after all of my encyclopedic writing and research, I have hundreds of questions, but I’ll only ask two for now:

1) Please tell me how New York American Water scores 100?

2) Where can I get water testing data for 2009-2015? (BTW, I have exhausted all efforts to try to find anything whatsoever on the EPA site for New York American Water.)

And last but not least, here is what the Environment Working Group’s website had to say about the SDWA and the EPA:

Compiling national tap water information and providing full access to the public should be a requirement for the EPA. More than a decade ago, the Safe Drinking Water Act Amendments of 1996 included such a requirement, but it still has not done so.

The federal government has a responsibility to do a national assessment of drinking water quality. It should establish new safety standards, set priorities for pollution prevention projects, and tell consumers about the full range of pollutants in our water.

The policy gaps that hamper source water protection and enforcement of drinking water quality need to be remedied with innovative legislation and regulatory leadership by the EPA in order to protect public health, especially the health of the developing fetus and child.

All Americans deserve access to clean and wholesome drinking water. It is essential to dedicate more funding for water infrastructure and source water protection programs and to make it a national priority to safeguard public health. So long as unregulated contaminants remain unregulated and unmonitored, the safety and reliability of tap water will remain at risk.

You only need to look at my photos to know that Flint, Michigan, might be the first crisis of its kind in recent memory, but it definitely won’t be the last.

For more information on the local Nassau County water, go to: https://blog.terischure.com/why-is-my-water-brown/

A Woman on the $10 Bill! But Who, and Why Not the $20?

February 19, 2016PoliticsTeri

Possible honorees include, clockwise from top left, abolitionist Harriet Tubman; suffragist Susan B. Anthony; reformist First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt; and civil rights pioneer Rosa Parks.

In June of 2015, Treasury Secretary Jacob J. Lew asked the public the following question:

If you could pick any deceased woman from American history to adorn the $10 bill, who would be your choice?

The riled up response he received took him by surprise. He fully expected an outpouring of opinions about which woman it should be. Particularly given that the only woman who ever appeared on the face of a United States bank note was Martha Washington in the late 19^th century, and only for an extremely brief period of time.

But what he wasn’t expecting, were the pointed questions, stinging opinions, adamant suggestions, and angry complaints surrounding not women, but the two men whose portraits are on the $10 and $20 bills.

On the $10 is Alexander Hamilton, a revered and well respected founding father, and on the $20 is President Andrew Jackson, as reviled and vilified as Hamilton is revered.

And who could have ever anticipated that the timing of the $10 bill redesign would coincide with the Broadway smash hit “Hamilton?”

The popular opinion from the public?

Eject Andrew Jackson from the $20 and put whomever you want on it, but leave the $10 bill—and Hamilton, alone.

The unexpected number of responses from the public at large were adamant that Hamilton, the architect of the American financial system, and the first Treasury Secretary should under no circumstances be removed from the $10 note. And the majority of the public was outraged and unnerved as to how the current Secretary of Treasury could forever displace the first Secretary of Treasury.

The public response was also clear about their opinion that Jackson doesn’t belong on the $20 bill at all, if not based on his opposition to national banking, then surely his abhorrent record of violence against Native Americans.

In response to the public outcry about Hamilton, the Treasury gave their assurances that Hamilton would somehow still remain on the $10 bill, more than likely as a secondary figure.

I think it will end up the other way around as usual. Hamilton will be the primary, and “some woman” will be the secondary.

The rollout of the redesigned $10 bill is expected to take place in 2020, which is also the 100^th anniversary of the ratification of the 19^th Amendment that extended the right to vote to American women.

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HARRIET TUBMAN QUOTES

Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.

I grew up like a neglected weed – ignorant of liberty, having no experience of it.

I would fight for my liberty so long as my strength lasted, and if the time came for me to go, the Lord would let them take me.

’Twant me, ’twas the Lord. I always told him, “I trust to you. I don’t know where to go or what to do, but I expect you to lead me,” and he always did.

I had crossed the line. I was free; but there was no one to welcome me to the land of freedom. I was a stranger in a strange land.

Quakers almost as good as colored. They call themselves friends and you can trust them every time.

I had reasoned this out in my mind, there was one of two things I had a right to, liberty or death; if I could not have one, I would have the other.

SUSAN B. ANTHONY QUOTES

I declare to you that woman must not depend upon the protection of man, but must be taught to protect herself, and there I take my stand.

Men, their rights, and nothing more; women, their rights, and nothing less.

I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do, because I notice it always coincides with their own desires.

There never will be complete equality until women themselves help to make laws and elect lawmakers.

Cautious, careful people, always casting about to preserve their reputations… can never effect a reform.

I always distrust people who know so much about what God wants them to do to their fellows.

The older I get the greater power I seem to have to help the world; I am like a snowball – the further I am rolled the more I gain.

I do not consider divorce an evil by any means. It is just as much a refuge for women married to brutal men as Canada was to the slaves of brutal masters.

Join the union, girls, and together say Equal Pay for Equal Work.

Oh, if I could but live another century and see the fruition of all the work for women! There is so much yet to be done.

ROSA PARKS QUOTES

I have learned over the years that when one’s mind is made up, this diminishes fear; knowing what must be done does away with fear.

Each person must live their life as a model for others.

Have you ever been hurt and the place tries to heal a bit, and you just pull the scar off of it over and over again.

The only tired I was, was tired of giving in.

I would like to be remembered as a person who wanted to be free… so other people would be also free.

Memories of our lives, of our works and our deeds will continue in others.

Racism is still with us. But it is up to us to prepare our children for what they have to meet, and, hopefully, we shall overcome.

I would like to be known as a person who is concerned about freedom and equality and justice and prosperity for all people.

My only concern was to get home after a hard day’s work.

Whatever my individual desires were to be free, I was not alone. There were many others who felt the same way.

ELEANOR ROOSEVELT QUOTES

Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.

The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.

Women are like teabags. You don’t know how strong they are until you put them in hot water.

You must do the things you think you cannot do.

It is not fair to ask of others what you are not willing to do yourself.

With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts.

In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.

It takes as much energy to wish as it does to plan.

Life was meant to be lived, and curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life.