Daniel latest experience

After a series of push up Dan sings.

Things Are Looking UP!

Chicago By Boat

The city of Chicago is truly beautiful, but when you have the opportunity to review the architecture from the river . . . it is even more amazing. Just take a quick peek from the eye of the camera . . .

Davka Dan

Guess who is in the army now . . . after a year of working and studying at Gan Michael Daniel was inducted into Nachal in Israel. Yes, this is the same Daniel whose hair was down to his shoulders, and yes, those are the hands that can make a guitar sing. But today this is a soldier preparing to defend the land he now calls HOME.

The following is a copy of the article Daniel wrote for August 1st edition of the Jewish Post and Opinion:

Home Alone
By Daniel Lande

I’m not sure when the obsession began. Maybe it was when I was six and had two posters on my wall – one of the Statue of Liberty and the other of the Western Wall. I don’t know how or why they came to be on my wall, but I spent a good portion of my childhood nights staring them before I fell asleep. Maybe they were put there by my grandfather, Alex Lande, a Holocaust survivor who had not only managed to escape and survive the Holocaust, but become a successful American, businessman, and family man.
To be candid, I wasn’t really interested in much when I was young, not the Statue of Liberty or the Western Wall. I even found TV boring. But one thing that did interest me was the fact that I was a product of not only my grandfather, but the Holocaust. Now this is some pretty deep stuff for a child, especially one that didn’t invest much time in anything scholastic. But, these were my thoughts and ones that only grew stronger as I grew older.
My grandfather died when I was in fifth grade and I suppose that was a tipping point in my life. The first time I had ever really met death was when I saw my grandfather lying in his hospice bed, eyes wide open as if he wanted to take one last look at what he had created, a Jewish family.
Gabby, a friend of the family came over to my grandfather’s bedside shortly after he passed and put her hands over his face to shut his eyes. This is the last image I have of my grandfather and the first memory I have of understanding that there was something greater than myself – purpose, meaning, life, and death.
However, I feel guilty to this day because in that same thought, I also wanted to go back home so I could play my new Super Nintendo that my brother and I just bought with money we saved up. That’s right, it’s hard to admit, but just minutes after seeing my grandfather pass, I was thinking about playing video games.
Little did I know, as I grew up, that way of thinking would follow me my whole life. That is to say, that once our eyes have been opened to something greater than ourselves, we become scared. I didn’t know it at the time, but I guess you could say it was a sort of self-defense mechanism. I didn’t want to think, I wanted to escape.
This way of thinking would get me in trouble again in my teenage years. When I was in eighth grade math class, the teacher called on me. But I was far off in another place. She didn’t like my answer much either, because when she asked me to find X, all I did was walk up to the board and circle it…”It’s right there Mrs. McDaniels.”
This was about the same time in my life when I found music. Or rather, music found me. I once again found an escape and found salvation in playing and creating music. For the first time in my life, I was able to do something without being shown how to do it, and I didn’t have to think about it either, it just came to me. I never had to practice; I just played. This connection led me to Jewish summer camp, where I was already involved but discovered I was able to grow as a musician by playing with others.
This was another tipping point in my life. At the end of my “camper” career, I and the other campers of GUCI [Goldman Union Camp Institute in Zionsville, Ind.] with whom I had spent my summers took our first trip to Israel in the summer of ‘98.
Now…this is where the weird part starts. After growing up with a “romantic view” of Israel and images of the Western Wall burnt in to my brain, I was sure Israel was going to be a mystical, magical and spiritual experience. So, you can only imagine what I felt when I spent my first 6 weeks in Israel…right? Wrong.
I remember seeing the Kotel for the first time. Walking down the Jerusalem stone steps of the old city as an old man played Hatikvah on his 1982 Casio keyboard, I turned the corner and…there it was…the Western Wall. Wow, I thought to myself, it still has that green leafy foliage growing out of the cracks….But that was about as far as my feelings went. I mean, I tried so hard to feel something, to shed a tear, to feel something else other than the hot sun beating on my neck and the harsh notes on my ears from the old, out-of-tune Casio keyboard. But there was nothing. I didn’t understand… This place was supposed to change my life, or give me some type of spiritual experience but….there was nothing but disappointment and an old man humming out of tune with his keyboard. I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand.
I did manage to have an amazing summer that year and had a great time in Israel. Yet the feelings I was expecting just never came. But when I got back to America, something else happened. My junior year of high school in history class, I opened my book and the first chapter was on the history of the Middle East. Wow, well. I’ve been there and…I might even have a thing or two to say about this other than “can I have an extension on the paper that’s due tomorrow?” I ended up finally enjoying something in school that didn’t involve food.
I also started to read the newspaper and watch the news. My world around me started to change little by little. My trip to Israel had given me a spark that started to rage into a fire. I started to read books about the Middle East. I took interest in Hebrew School, and when I graduated High School, ended up going to Israel for a year to learn and volunteer. This was the third tipping point in my life.
After the first 3 weeks I was in Israel, the “Intifadah” (Palestinian Uprising) started. I was faced with a decision that would alter the course of my life. My parents being the Jewish parents they are, were worried about my safety and wanted me to come home. However, I chose to stay in Israel that year, and for every day I stayed, a connection to the land and people formed, a connection that was already there but grew and manifested itself in actions.
When I finished my year in Israel, I came back to Indiana and unwittingly became an ambassador for the state of Israel. That is to say, everyone who knew me or knew where I had been the past year asked me questions about Israel, what it was, what was happening, and what it meant. Even my professors wanted to know about my experiences. I started to write small articles for the Indiana Daily Student at Indiana University in Bloomington, Ind., and became very active politically on campus. I made many trips to Israel my senior year of college and had them all covered by the press so as to humanize and put a face to the state of Israel.
It became my goal to have people understand that Israel is not simply a place where busses blow up, rocks are thrown and dirt paths lead to dirt paths, but Israel is a place where busses take kids and moms to soccer games, Israel is a place where you can yell at the man in the falafel stand for not washing his hands when touching your pita, and then laugh with him when you’re done eating it.
I finished college and like most people started what I thought would be the rest of my life. I got a “good” job where I sat in a cube and stared at a computer screen all day. But I felt anything but satisfied with what I was doing. Not only was it boring, unfulfilling and trivial, but it was, in my eyes, meaningless.
I thought about the things I had done in college, the things I had done in summer camp and the trips I had taken to Israel. I thought about my grandfather’s flight to America and the years that were taken from him (not to mention his family) during the Holocaust. I started to feel as if I was merely existing and not living. I wanted to stand for something, I wanted to be a part of something that was greater than myself and I wanted to be able to feel a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day.
Although, my cube was a pretty light blue, it just wasn’t cutting it for me. That’s when I quit my job, sold and gave away most of my things, and moved to Israel. That’s right, I made aliyah in the summer of 2006, alone. But, I was finally home. I was in a place that had meaning, in a place that was fulfilling and in a place that reminded me of what and who I am everyday.
I am now a solider in Israel. I am a combat soldier in a unit called Nahal and I wear my uniform with pride. I am not a violent person, and I think of war as anything but romantic. But I am a soldier in the army of my people for the existence of the Jewish state.
I’m not trying to be a hero, nor am I trying to live some romantic tale while my parents on the other side of the world worry about me. But instead, I have been chasing the feeling that I first felt in my grandpa’s hospice room – searching for purpose and meaning of life and death. I realize now that we are faced everyday with what I felt in that hospice room at age 10. We can either except our feelings and follow them, or we can ignore them and play Nintendo instead. At the end of the day, what is important is the sense of accomplishment.
I like to think that as my grandpa passed away, he took one last look at what had been taken from him and what he had built. His family was taken from him, yet he created another. My grandfather did not volunteer to be in the Holocaust. On the other hand, I as a 25-year-old have the choice to make sure that something like the Holocaust never happens again and I have taken the opportunity to do something greater than myself. That opportunity is being an Israeli citizen and being a soldier to protect the rights that my grandfather had taken away from him.
My name is Daniel Lande and I am a Jew. My mother is a Jew and my father is a Jew and in this, I have found meaning. This isn’t the end of my story, but the very beginning, to the first day of the rest of my life.

Yes, Daniel is growing up, and I must say, that I am very proud of how he is doing, and what he is doing. Most of us defend our beliefs with strong words, big dollars, and maybe a demonstration or two. Daniel is not only walking the walk, but standing strong on the front line. Some REAL ESTATE is truly worth more then words can express.

Daniel [aka "DAN"] is also investigating another aspect of Jewish life. He has not only learned how to aim his gun, and hit the target, but he has and continues to add other dimensions to his newly aquired skills.



"May G-d cause his face to shine upon my son, and all those who stand with him, and may he be gracious unto them. May he grant them a long life of health, happiness, and SHALOM."

Indiana Dunes State Park

WOW!








It really is like going to the shore without the salt water and sharks.




This mini AEPi Reunion brought 4 old fraternity brothers and their families [which added another generation of brothers] to share a day in the S U N. Did I say S U N it was nearly 100 degrees in the shade, but the water was a mechia. [You are going to have to look that one up - English translation is insufficient for proper interpretation.]



Just a simple 2 1/4 hours from Indianapolis, and we felt like we were a world away. It is kind of a shame . . . the 2 1/4 hour drive only took us a little over 30 years to complete. Yes, I did say 30+ years! How is it that life seems to get in the way of the things that we really need to do to truly enjoy life. Don't get me wrong . . . I do enjoy the work I do, I enjoy my family, my weekly trek to the boat [pontoon boat - not gambling boat], and all of the other humdreds of things I do on a regular basis. But is seems that some of the simple treasures in life like connecting with old friends gets lost in the shuffle.



Life is far too short to lose touch. And friendship is far too valuable to take for granted. I had a great time with great friends. I don't think I am going to wait another 30 years.

The Eyes Have It!

May 9, 2007 A DAY AT THE TRACK

Thanks to some great friends [code name ~ Stewart] I had the pleasure of an unbelieveable day at the Indianapolis 500. Treated to an endless buffet of Jugs chicken, fried rolls with apple butter, potato salad, cole slaw, and an open bar who could ask for more . . .

Well, the reality is that asking was not even necessary on top of the great goodies we were partying in Suite #4 just to the right of the start finish line, and even better . . . we were given Pit/Garage passes! That's right . . . both FOOD and PHOTO OPPS! What a day! I thought you might enjoy the view from the driver's seat . . .














I would not count myself as a regular at the track, but I must admit that I have had the opportunity to explore the landmark more times then most. But this time I had my new 300mm lens and a Pit Pass . . . not my typical combination. After years of panning to stop the high speed Indy cars dead in their tracks, this was a new opportunity to look into the eyes of the driver.
















This is the real race, not just the speed, not just the placement in line with the pole, but the concentration, and the determination in each driver's soul.














One minor error could be the difference between winning and dying. Speeds surrounding 200 mph not only sound fast [and let me say . . . you really can HEAR speeds around 200 mph] but the turns seem to come much faster then the straight away as each turn of the tire brings the driver closer to the finish line.

If this sounds like a prospective on life . . . I must admit . . . it made me think about a few things. The straight aways in our life help get us up to speed just in time for the next curve that life throws at us. The fastest car does not always finish the race, and the best assembled machine sometimes still has a bug or two to work out at the last minute. It is the focus in our life that brings us the things we want and need. It is the internal vision that is the spark to turn dreams into reality. But we must all begin with dreams, with vision, with the desire to attain our personal goals. For without it . . . we are left in the dark.














BE CAREFUL OUT THERE . . . Proceed with Caution

My Three Sons

Over the past posts I have mentioned “my boys”. Today, I want to tell you a little about them.

They are each totally unique. One is a jock involved in every sport possible either as a participant or a fan, but totally engulfed to the point of being a letterman. Then I have a son that is so far removed from the sports scene that when his high school won the State Basketball Tournament . . . he did not even know they were in the game.

I have a true business oriented son who knows what to do, and how to do it in order to get ahead in Corporate America, and then I have a son who finds employment a true crimp in his busy day.

I have an artist who can make a guitar sing; whose lyrics bring tears, and laughter, concern and smiles to the audience in attendance, and I have a son who can not carry a tune in a bucket. I have a photographer who can use his mind’s eye to create an image to share with the world that we would otherwise ignore in reality, and I have a son who has yet to share any of his photographic creations . . . with the exception of the silly face executed by his friends and of course the “self” photo.

I have three sons, and three reasons for pride. Are they perfect? They are unique. They have chosen paths that make their lives full. They have chosen directions that make them happy. They are all still young, and their paths may take a turn as their personal journey through life twists and turns, but to date . . . they have made good choices [with a few exceptions during teen years for the older two, and a TBD for #3’s teen years], and for that I am grateful and proud. I know that I do not tell them any of this on a regular basis so I thought I would put it in print for them to see and share whenever life gives them a kick in the stomach, whenever their choices are not perfect, and when they have moments of disappointment for themselves and those they love.

Yes, one can not catch a plane any more then a dog can catch a car. He can forget the most important things like a passport between countries, and birthdays of family members, but we know he is who he is, and for some reason . . . our love exceeds our initial response to his inability to do the norm, but norm is not his name, and norm is not his style!

If you know which is which . . . then you know my boys. If you do not, that is ok, because they know; I just want you to know that I love them all.

I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!

Marty's 16th Birthday ~ Colts go to the SUPERBOWL!

January 21, 2007 ~ Marty Lande celebrates his 16th birthday at Jerry & Beth's house along with the Lande Family. This is not just your typical 16th birthday for if it was we would have been at a nice steak restaurant . . . this was MARTY's 16th birthday, and the AFC Playoff featuring for the first time ever the Indianapolis COLTS!



As you can see, Marty needed a little help with blowing out all of the candles. I am sure that it had a great deal to do with the GIGANTIC wish that accompanied the tradition. [Did I mention that we served the festive desert at half-time during the game . . . the game that had the Colts losing to the Patriots at that point.] I did not ask was Marty's wish was, but I had a strong guess is was not simply "get this tradition over, and let's eat cake".



So after the culinary delights were devoured it was back to the game. Now you do need to know that the Lande Family and sports mix almost as well as oil and water, but this was an exception. Not only was everyone up for the game, but to insure good luck, we even kept Jerry out of the room, because the Colts have never won a game that he watched [that alone should tell you how many games he has experienced].


So it was back to the theater room . . . what did you think we were going to watch a serious event like this on a 13' B&W in the kitchen?

Chery took her wine, and we re-entered the world of sports. Cheryl's choice of beverage did allow her to express her opinion of everything that took place . . . not that she is inhibited with water and a lemon, but the wine was a much better lubricant when it came to expression. I think the COLTS actually heard her . . . hey they were only 96+ blocks away, and the crowd in the RCA Dome is only known as the loudest crowd in America . . . but the must have heard her, because the did a magic turnaround like no other team in history to WIN! That's right . . . the COLTS are going to the Superbowl.

Now this group of NEW avid sports fans are hooked . . . planning SUPERBOWL Parties, getting the new COLTS apparel as soon as the stores open on Monday, and decorating doors and windows with COLTS Pride. You know what . . . I kind of like it myself . . . I think I may buy a shirt Monday too!

GO COLTS!

From Strength to Strength

"Hazack . . . Hazack" from Strength to Strength, is a traditional blessing as our Life cycle takes its course from birth to death.

When life's blessings are apparent, and pride is shining with a glow greater then then sun . . . strength is easily compounded by an exponent of joy.

On the other hand, when a loved on comes to the end of their life's journey we must call upon all the strength that life has provided up to that day to accept G-D's judgement. With the end of the relationship as we knew it, and the beginning of a new relationship based in the heart and mind as we remember the past life lessons taught and experienced via our lost family and friends, and utilize them as we progress on our journey to the end of our days.

Yesterday marked the end of Regina Concannon's days. She was the mother of my life long friend, the friend of my parents, and a friend of mine. As I grew up her home was nothing less then an extension of mine; her cookie jar was always open as was the door to the house. My first puppy was the offspring of their family dog, and my entrance to Real Estate was directed in great part by her vast knowledge and instruction.

I have gained both strength and knowledge from this great lady, and for this among many other gifts I am grateful. Regina, you are missed already. I am glad that your pain is gone, and that you have found peace. G-d Bless You.

Regina Peller Concannon 74 years of age, of Indianapolis, passed away January 12, 2007. She was a graduate of Indiana University and attended Indiana University School of Law. Mrs. Concannon worked as a realtor for Hallmark Realty and later served as the manager of the Broad Ripple office of McClain-Mathews Realty. In 1977 she and her late husband, Clete Concannon, purchased Henthorn Mower and Engine Service, a company that she continued following his death. She was a member of Congregation Beth-El Zedeck, where she taught religious school for many years. She was also a life member of Hadassah, and a member of the Indianapolis Board of Realtors. Survivors include her beloved children, Eugene (Rickie) Star, Dr. Louis (Janie) Star and Tish (Ben) Doochin; eight grandchildren, Jennie, Michael, Brett, Jordan, Cole, Justin, Olivia and Rebekah; and former husband, Alex Star. Funeral services will be held on Sunday, January 14, 2007 at 11 a.m. in Aaron-Ruben-Nelson Mortuary. Burial will follow in Beth-El Zedeck North Cemetery. Memorial contributions may be made to Hadassah.

Like Father Like Son?

It is by far no secret that I am never described as lean, thin, slim, or in any other context referring to the abominably challenged.

I take great pride in my circumference, and although I do periodically refrain from a second desert, I rarely miss a meal. I am however SHOCKED that my energetic Gen-X #1 Son is beginning to follow in my buffet line. Perhaps it was just the exceptional cuisine found on board the Navigator of the Seas. Could even be the ribs on the Haitian Island . . . who knows?!?

Now I understand that his high tech world is expanding [as I am sure will his pants size] to an entirely new level. He is turned approximately 25% of his abode into a private personal high def theater. Can you say . . . major league couch potato? OK, I am not pointing any fingers because I think he can do better . . . I am simply saying that I want to join the club. I am jealous . . . besides, that newly found mass above the belt line is an excellent place to retain a plate during prime time.

No D

How do you take a Family Photo without ALL of the family?

Eventhough this may sound like a joke . . . it is a serious problem. Our Fantastic Cruise provided more fun then we even thought possible, but we did miss D.

D is our #2 son, Daniel. His life's journey has lead him to Israel where he now makes his home. I must admit that some of his adventures are rather exciting, and the lifestyle [although not mine] is a breath of fresh air, but back in the USA . . . we are one short of a full family.

The bottom line . . . even though you may only see four in the photo . . . we see FIVE. I am sure that if you look real hard you can even read our minds. DANIEL we miss you!

Christmas Cruise for Jews

I am not sure if I should title this Christmas Cruise for Jews or How I missed the Boat, but the bottom line is . . . WOW, what a Great Trip! Accommodations are important, and of course we were going to go economy style with four in a room. [WHAT WAS I THINKING!?] Have you ever marveled at a walk-in closet in which you can really move around and see everything? Well, convert that to a room for 4. No family has that much love to share! Fortunately, my mother insisted that we look into an extra room prior to the exciting event . . . timing being everything . . . we got an extra room, and life was wonderful. The ship was not your typical sea going vessel; we are talking rock climbing wall, putt-putt, the works! Did I mention food . . . . . . . . . well, we had F O O D in fact some nights I ate enough for a family of four all by myself. Of course by the last night I did feel compelled to skip desert. Since I am reflecting on food I must include one of the most delightful parts of dinner, Nector, our assistant waiter. From ET to smashing butter on Shanna's hand this guy was a riot! Of course Mr. Jeremy & Mr. Marty wanted to be sure that he knew how we felt about the quality of the food and the service so they always managed to provide the appropriate expression of their appreciation.

The cruise entertainment was not limited to food even if my newly found weight may tend to disagree . . . of course you are still wondering why I subtitled this How I Missed the Boat . . . well, it was not due to food!

It was the second most exciting activity . . . SHOPPING! It was not enough that my friend Jeff and I had a magnificent trip the ancient Mayan ruins . . . I had to stop to shop on the way back. Yes, I noticed all of the others rushing to the boat, but hey, there is always another boat . . . right? So we shopped, just a little, and maybe just a little more. Then we went to the pier, then the Mexican gentleman indicated that the boat left without us. So now what? SHOP SOME MORE that is what. We did manage to obtain passage on a much later boat that arrived 10 minutes after the ship was to leave port [are we important or what!]. Did I mention that Cheryl and Marilyn were ready to jump ship to try and find us?

Stay tuned to this blog . . . more to come soon.