OyChicago articles

Liz, contemplating corn and listening to Low.

I draw inspiration from lost roots, genealogy, old urban and farm architecture, residential history, sociological photography, the Midwest at night, resistance fighters, people that get me in the gut, ghosts, and music that settles somewhere between my sternum and abdomen.

These samples of my work are collagraphs—which is my favorite printmaking technique involving mounting materials onto a plate (made of cardboard, metal, etc…) and then (usually) pulling it on a press.

Part Elie Wiesel and part Low’s “Long Division” album. My Mom thinks it looks like a house on fire.

These are a couple of giraffes. You know, just the coat hanger antler things on the tops of their heads. Nothing deep. It's funny because I get the most emotional responses to this one—people think it's about abandonment, or a relationship splitting up.

I was listening to “Extended Play Two” by Broadcast a lot. It was an eyelash-freezing winter, I was hulled up in the house and had the CD on repeat.

This one was inspired by a friend.



I used to love pulling the silk off of the ears of corn with my Mom on the back porch in the summer. I have a deep, deep place in my heart for Midwestern Moms.

Chunk of downtown.

Elie Wiesel walking the streets of the Loop. I would totally buy him a hot dog. Kosher, of course.

Liz Weinstein was bred in Oak Park and buttered in Chicago. She's currently living as a Hausfrau in Germany but still refuses to iron the sheets. Her obsessions include record collecting, WWII memoirs, snapshots and printmaking. She's also a graphic designer.

Matt was never afraid to say "I love you." 

Second to “It’s not your baby,” it’s the next biggest English phrase that should stir emotion in the recipient. And sure, we’ve all used it and heard it. Some may have used it as a “get out of jail free pass” from the fight over you leering at the girl who just walked by. And we’ve all probably used it at the end of our phone conversations with mommy or daddy even without really thinking about it, more of an involuntary statement that always ends the conversation. Even after all of the nagging and guilt followed by anxiety and rage mommy instills in us, we still say it. And whatever form it takes, we’ve all been too apathetic with our use of the phrase.

We’re at our worst when it comes to finals time, where our focus shifts and priorities in life jumble together with the immediate fear of failure. We hear it in the distant background from our boyfriend/girlfriend while we’re hyper-focused on the impending doom from our Civ Pro exam. We’re just too damn busy to actually hear and pay notice to those words from our loved ones. I’m not saying a good study ethic, hard work and a strong focus in law is bad. But like heroin, hookers and healthy eating, hyper-focus requires moderation and a heavy consideration of the bigger picture. And saying, hearing and meaning the phrase “I love you” is much more important in the bigger picture.

Here’s one example why.

Louie was set to be a major league baseball pitcher. His father, a giant in stature with a deep voice and kind heart, always talked about how Louie’s screwball would take the league. Louie had an advantage over the others from the day he was born. He broke his collarbone during birth, turning his hands facing slightly away from his body instead of facing towards, like most others. During his childhood, Louie’s parents worked with him to solve any situations caused by his birth situation. He was also born with a slightly enlarged heart and other minor difficulties. But regardless of the complications, Louie led a mostly normal to above normal lifestyle as a kid. Obviously, he played baseball, was a good student, had hundreds of friends, was always running around. His complications became solvable situations, and some to his advantage. Like I said, the fact that his hands were turned out gave him an advantage on the ball-field, since his hands were crafted for the elusive pitch that was set to send him to the big leagues.

On an average morning, on an average day, Louie’s mother went to wake him up, as she’d done for years. Unfortunately, Louie didn’t wake up to his mother’s call, nor his mother’s grasps, nor his mother’s cries. The doctors said that his enlarged heart may have pinched on an artery during his sleep, causing him to pass away sometime during the night. His heart may have been just too big for this world to hold. Louie’s professional baseball career ended before it actually started. He was 13. 

There’s not a day that goes by where we say “I love you” to our parents and girlfriends without really thinking about what it means and how the phrase matters. We take love for granted and hardly take the time to explain to another person that we appreciate them for how they’ve affected our lives. We just went through our finals, most of us putting our boyfriends/girlfriends through hell as we tried to fight for our sanity while cramming in as much of the “bundles of sticks” of Property Law as we could. They may have said they love us, they may have tried to kiss us, and we probably returned with evil looks or smelly bodies (I hardly shower during finals week). But finals time, like the holidays, like EVERY day, should be a time where we try our hardest not to take for granted the love that we receive. I’m just as guilty, if not more, than the rest of us.

So, being that I have a public forum:

I love you Mom and Dad, for every waking hour you sat with me as I went from hospital bed to surgery, back to hospital bed and back to surgery. For every tear you may have held back in front of me, your little boy, so I would reflect your strength through some of the hardest times. And even for the times where we disagreed, you allowed me to do that and know that I am free to do so. I love you, brother, for your bull-headish unwavering protection over me. For giving me the comfort in knowing that whatever I’d need, you’d get it for me if I asked. Even for the times that you kicked my ass when I was younger, for you taught me both to stand up for myself and to duck faster than the person throwing the punch.

I love you, friends and family, for being my friends and thus my family. There are never enough words to prove that I love and appreciate you, other than me saying that I love you and appreciate you! True friends emote true feelings and create true memories, and once you realize the value of true memories and true feelings, you’ll understand the need to thank your friends.

Now it’s your turn. Call mommy and say thank you. Tell her you love her. Call dad and tell him you appreciate him and his sacrifices. Hug your cat. Kiss your friends (leave out the tongue). Do what you need to do to show them they are appreciated and loved. No one ever knows the time when we’ll leave this place, and none of us have the opportunity to change death. What we can do, is change the LIFE of others by the words and the emotions we give to them.

Do that. Give your love, respect, admiration, and appreciation to those only you know deserve it.  And though I didn’t know you all that well… I love you, Louie.

This piece originally appeared Chicago Kent Law School’s publication, The Commentator in March, 2007.

Oy!Chicago would like to thank Matt's mom, Roberta, for sharing this story with us and our Oy! readers. Read more about Matt in A Tribute to Matt.

Alan and Miriam, giving biblical verses a new tune.

Miriam Brosseau and Alan Jay Sufrin were making music together long before they started the “Biblegum pop” duo Stereo Sinai, born in celebration of another birth—their rabbi’s son, Gideon. Alan and Miriam teamed up to write a lullaby, taking original Hebrew verses from the book of Judges and mixing them with a synthesized pop arrangement. The single, "Gideon's Song” gave life to the band.

So whether you like the Good Book, have an affinity for Intelligentsia or make a killer soup, Miriam and Alan are Jews you should know!

1.  What did you want to be when you grew up?
Miriam: I went through a couple of the usual phases--architect, marine biologist, Olympic roller-skater. But, ultimately, it was either rabbi or rock star that won out.
Alan: I wanted to be a rabbi first, then a folksinger. Miriam and I are a lot alike.

2.  What do you love about what you do today?
Miriam: I love the whole creative process of songwriting. It’s really magical to see a song through from a few scribbles on a napkin to that first performance. And now, working with biblical texts adds a whole new dimension. It’s exciting.
Alan: Not everyone gets to combine their passions like we do. For me, there’s nothing better than mixing my love of creating pop music with my love of Judaism and environmentalism. And as it turns out, I’m really enjoying the business aspect of things, which I didn’t expect at first. It’s so important in indie pop music to communicate and collaborate as much as possible.

3.  What are you reading?
Miriam: “The Omnivore’s Dilemma,” by Michael Pollan. Easily one of the most interesting books I’ve read in a long time. It really makes you think about the way you approach food.
Alan: Isaac Bashevis Singer, “The Collected Stories.” I’m such a Jew nerd.

4.  What's your favorite place to eat in Chicago?
Miriam: Nothing beats Intelligentsia coffee—best in the city by far.
Alan:  That’s easy. Miriam makes some killer soups right at home. …I’m not a shut-in, really.

5.  If money and logistical reality played no part, what would you invent?
Miriam: I’d invent a consequence machine. Every government would be required to have one. They would have to enter a description of what they were about to do, and the machine would list the real-life consequences of that action.  
Alan: Probably some sort of telepathy thing. Finding out how other people think has always been fascinating to me.

6.  Would you rather have the ability to fly or the ability to be invisible?
Miriam: Definitely fly. That’d be a pretty cool stage effect.
Alan: I’d rather be able to fly because, well let’s face it, as a musician, invisibility is exactly the thing I’m trying to avoid.

7.  If I scrolled through your iPod, what guilty pleasure song would I find?
Miriam: “King of Wishful Thinking” by Go West. It’s the first song on the “Pretty Woman” soundtrack and it was the song I tried out with for American Idol. (Shhh…)
Alan: That’s a hard one, because I think you would probably consider almost all the songs on my iPod to be guilty pleasures. I’m an unabashed bubblegum pop fan. But, “Genie in a Bottle.”

8.  What's your favorite Jewish thing to do in Chicago—in other words, how do you Jew?
Miriam: There’s a cool local organization called Kfar that puts on these great art-y, culture-y, Jewish-y events. It’s fun to see other Jewish artists at work and it’s always a totally chill, open environment.
Alan: I’m a part of PACT (Public Action for Change Today). It’s a great social action group that works with Chicago alder-people and state representatives for various causes, such as raising environmental awareness and combating homelessness in Chicago communities. There are a number of caucuses made up of community organizers from different groups of Chicagoans, and I’m one of the Jews in the Jewish Caucus. Oh, and I love singing pop songs from the Torah, of course!  Was that too corny?

Matt, accomplishing.

In true Jewish geography fashion, my mom’s best friend Linda introduced me to her other best friend Roberta, who then introduced me to her son, Matt. And though Matt and I never had the chance meet in person, his story—as told through his mother and his own writing—will remain close to my heart forever.

Matthew Louis Lash, a 2007 graduate of Chicago-Kent College of Law, died April 30, 2008 at age 27 after a seven and a half year battle with Ewing’s sarcoma, a rare form of bone cancer. His life, tragically cut short, was everything but a tragedy. Refusing to let his battle with cancer beat down his spirit, he set out to accomplish in just 27 years what most people can only hope to achieve in 70. In the short time Matt spent here in Chicago, he left a lasting mark on the people he met through law school and his Birthright Israel trip, serving as an inspiration to every single person who was fortunate enough to cross his path.

I spoke with his mom Roberta over the phone a little less than two months after Matt passed away. I had expected to hear sadness and grief in her voice; instead I heard only pride and joy. She laughed as she told me all the incredible feats Matt accomplished, all while undergoing chemo and after having his leg amputated, and how he had kept his sense of humor through it all. I think if we had the time, our conversation could have continued well into the night.

Matt was first diagnosed in December of 2000. He had injured his heel, and after it didn’t get better and a cyst formed, his doctors decided he needed surgery. After successfully completing the surgery, they discovered the cancer—a rare, incurable form of bone cancer of which there are only 300 cases per year.  Roberta recalled the exact date and time, Dec. 28 at 2 p.m. “From that point on Matt was on a new course,” she said.

After three months of chemo, Matt opted to have his leg amputated from the knee down, in an effort to prevent the cancer from spreading.

In an essay published along with his obituary in the Detroit Jewish News, his hometown paper, Matt wrote the following, titled What is it Like to Have Your Leg Amputated: 

“It sucks,” he began, but then continued:

“It hurts, but your leg heals…I traveled to Europe for two weeks with buddies. I took my leg off in the middle of a huge parade in Germany and waved it around hundreds of onlookers. I graduated (college at Michigan State University) in five years, three of them involving surgeries and chemo. I walked across the stage. I lived in Spain for a study-abroad program in law school. I used an old pizza box as padding for my leg because I danced literally all night in San Sebastian…I traveled to Israel. I met the most beautiful women in the world there and got shot down by all of them! I also climbed a mountain overlooking Jordan and Syria. I rode a camel. I graduated law school...I stood as best man to watch my brother marry his beautiful bride. I got to hold my new baby niece, Ella, and kiss her chubby face when she was born. So yes, it’s also pretty freaking cool.”

Six months after the surgery Matt should have been okay, but the cancer had spread to his lungs and he was told he had five years tops left to live—he made it seven and a half.

“No one’s going to tell Matt anything,” Roberta said. “They’re not going to tell him he can’t climb a mountain, no one’s going to tell him he can’t graduate law school.”

On his trip to Israel through the Birthright Israel program in Chicago, Matt’s group was set to climb Mount Schlomo, when their tour guide asked him if he would rather wait at the bottom. “’No way,’ he told him, and then beat everyone to the top,” Roberta said, and then he held his leg high in the air. “He really impacted everybody,” she said, noting that they continue to tell his story at every Birthright Israel orientation session.

Matt defying gravity on Mt. Shlomo in Israel

In addition to his travels and studies, Matt also completed an internship for Major League Baseball with Bud Selig in New York and worked for the city district attorney’s office in Los Angeles during this time.

Then, in August of last year, he had another surgery and never fully recovered. When doctors told him he had two weeks to live, Roberta and her husband, Cliff, were fortunate to be able to bring him home.

True to form, he lived for two weeks and one day.

And though he is gone, Matt’s legacy will live on. A group of Matt’s law school friends initiated the Matthew Louis Lash Scholarship Fund at Chicago-Kent College of Law in his memory, which Roberta said she hopes will be awarded to a student facing some kind of health challenge.

His Birthright Israel group has also established a memorial fund in his honor to help support a school they visited together in Kiryat Gat. Each year, Matt participated in the American Cancer Society’s Relay For Life, and his team, Team Chaverim (friends), plans to continue the tradition.

And his voice, sense of humor and witty and optimistic outlook is forever documented through his writing. During law school, Matt wrote essays for Chicago-Kent’s student newspaper,  The Commentator . He had also started writing a book, titled “Cancer Boy,” which incorporated some of those essays, and others, as well as chapters including “Doing It For The Children (masturbating in a cup),” “I Met Jesus When They Took Off My Leg (the amputation)” and “Hi, I Have Cancer and One Leg, Want To Date Me? (about dating and the leg),” using his experiences as both entertainment and a guide for other young adults going through similar experiences.

“This book is not an autobiography,” he writes in the book’s Prologue, titled “Epilogue.” “A great autobiography has a great beginning, a great middle and a great end. My great end has yet to be written.”

And the great end to his book is also ‘yet to be written,’ but Roberta said she is considering having the book finished and published.

“Matt felt moved to write about these things,” she said. “He was on a different level with how he looked at things.”

In honor of Matt, a true Jew You Should Know who lived meaningfully and Jewishly, Oy!Chicago is publishing one of his essays from The Commentator as this week’s Living Jewishly column. Hopefully his words in “I Love You...Your Turn” will touch you as they have touched me and so many others who were fortunate enough to have read them.