In a literal and literary version of "Honor Thy Father" I am now finishing reading 'The Pity of it All' by Amos Elon. I had bought the book for my dad since it's a history of German Jewry and I thought he would enjoy learning more about his roots (he did); I didn't anticipate his asking me to read it, too, so that I would understand him better. Not exactly Jodi Picoult or even Azure magazine but it moves along in it's own way.
What's interesting is that I know how it ends so it's like watching a train speeding, about to go off a cliff, but not being able to stop it. In 1896 a physician named Bernard Cohn wrote a pamphlet warning German Jews that devastation was around the corner. No one paid any attention. So many brilliant Jews, so loyal to Germany, really patriotic to the point that not a few killed themselves during WWII, they just couldn't live with the betrayal of the Fatherland. A message for today? I wonder.
It really could have been Germany's century. They had brains, an incredible work ethic, organization and loyal citizens. They took it all and turned it to evil and destruction. Talk about free choice, so sad. My son Amiad is going to the States to work in camp for the summer and there was a Lufthansa flight open. I know, I know, it's silly. We owned a VW for awhile and other German products but I just couldn't see sending him alone on a plane with German signs and German announcements, (to me it's the language of death) and a stopover in Berlin. (Although I'm sure it would be on time.) So it's costing more but El Al it is.
Maybe I'll get over this one day. The again, my mother's cousin was killed at Pearl Harbor and she still dislikes the Japanese. So maybe not.
It's a crisp and cool Judean evening. And the language I'm hearing my kids prattle to their friends on the phone is Hebrew. Alive and well.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
48 Hours Off
I spend much of my time involved in 'hasbara', that ubiquitous term for explaining Israel's position to the world, or at least to the people in the room with me at the time. As part of debates and appearances it is necessary and also correct to feel and express understanding for the other side, for their narrative, for their aspirations and grievances.
Well, guys, I'm taking 48 hours off from political correctness and empathy.
Today, Memorial Day for the Fallen, in Wars and Terror Acts, I am wallowing in the pain of my people and only my people. I wept through the 2 minute siren this morning through eyes still puffy from last night's tears, a result of long hours spent in front of the television watching shows about soldiers who were killed last summer in Lebanon. Heroes, every one. They lived for their nation, who I am blessed to be a part of. They sacrificed everything to protect our homeland from those who would throw us into the sea and finish what Hitler began. Those killed by terrorists died because they had the temerity to live in Israel and the nerve to be on a bus or drinking coffee when a hate filled, deranged monster imposed his death cult wishes on those who love life.
My nation is a "Light Unto the Nations". Others, and we know who they are, are a "Blight Unto the Nations". What a difference a letter makes.
Those who died did so so that the rest of us might live. And so we will continue to do so, to build and create and laugh. And grieve for those who are no more with those for whom every day is memorial day.
Tomorrow is Independence Day. The juxtaposition of these 2 days is brilliant, we are not independent only by the grace of G-d but by the sacrifices of so many of His people. One does not exist without the other. Grief tinged with pride, joy muted by sorrow.
I live in Gush Etzion, where the battle that was lost in 1948 saved Jerusalem from falling entirely to the enemy and gave the country this date as a memorial day, that's how important the fight here was to the fledgling state. I am overwhelmed by gratitude that I was born to the Jewish people in a time when we came home, and that I am privileged to be a part of the renewal of life in these ancient hills where it all began.
If I cut myself tomorrow I daresay I will bleed blue and white. To those who bled red and died as a result, I have no words, other than a pathetic and heartfelt thank you. For everything. It was not in vain.
Well, guys, I'm taking 48 hours off from political correctness and empathy.
Today, Memorial Day for the Fallen, in Wars and Terror Acts, I am wallowing in the pain of my people and only my people. I wept through the 2 minute siren this morning through eyes still puffy from last night's tears, a result of long hours spent in front of the television watching shows about soldiers who were killed last summer in Lebanon. Heroes, every one. They lived for their nation, who I am blessed to be a part of. They sacrificed everything to protect our homeland from those who would throw us into the sea and finish what Hitler began. Those killed by terrorists died because they had the temerity to live in Israel and the nerve to be on a bus or drinking coffee when a hate filled, deranged monster imposed his death cult wishes on those who love life.
My nation is a "Light Unto the Nations". Others, and we know who they are, are a "Blight Unto the Nations". What a difference a letter makes.
Those who died did so so that the rest of us might live. And so we will continue to do so, to build and create and laugh. And grieve for those who are no more with those for whom every day is memorial day.
Tomorrow is Independence Day. The juxtaposition of these 2 days is brilliant, we are not independent only by the grace of G-d but by the sacrifices of so many of His people. One does not exist without the other. Grief tinged with pride, joy muted by sorrow.
I live in Gush Etzion, where the battle that was lost in 1948 saved Jerusalem from falling entirely to the enemy and gave the country this date as a memorial day, that's how important the fight here was to the fledgling state. I am overwhelmed by gratitude that I was born to the Jewish people in a time when we came home, and that I am privileged to be a part of the renewal of life in these ancient hills where it all began.
If I cut myself tomorrow I daresay I will bleed blue and white. To those who bled red and died as a result, I have no words, other than a pathetic and heartfelt thank you. For everything. It was not in vain.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
A Face Made for Radio
Is what a (still) good friend said to me once. He's lucky I'm so good natured. Anyhow, I just wanted to let you, the masses, know that as of last week I have an internet radio show on Arutz 7 in English. It's live on Wednesdays from 5-6 PM Israel summer time (7 hours ahead of Eastern US) and they have it on the site for a few days as well so you can listen at your convenience. What a world. The site is israelnationalradio.com and the link to last week's pilot show is here.
I hope. Sometimes I think my hi-tech skills are on par with those of the original Judeans.
I'm always happy to hear your feedback (try to minimize those 4 letter nasties) and since I record at the studio in Bet El (and not in my pajamas on the phone from my room as I did a few years ago when I had a show) you can call in real time, too, and we can talk.
Making your life easy the name is.......Judean Eve. Natch.
I hope. Sometimes I think my hi-tech skills are on par with those of the original Judeans.
I'm always happy to hear your feedback (try to minimize those 4 letter nasties) and since I record at the studio in Bet El (and not in my pajamas on the phone from my room as I did a few years ago when I had a show) you can call in real time, too, and we can talk.
Making your life easy the name is.......Judean Eve. Natch.
Shark Attack
The Israeli press had reports over the weekend that the 5th grade teacher of Gilad Shalit (the kidnapped soldier held in Gaza since last summer) gave his parents an essay written when he was 10. In it he describes a dolphin who meets a shark who wants to kill him, but the dolphin convinces him to be friends even though their mothers aren't so happy with the arrangement.
Isn't that just so prescient, cooed one female newscaster, given what happened to him. Would that his childhood dream would come true and we could all live together.
For the millionth time I marvel at the naivete (or stupidity) of the Israel press. I mean, the dolphin is not the problem here. Co-existence with dolphins (who are known for intelligence and loyalty) is easy. The threat comes from the sharks, known for sniffing blood and killing without mercy. It doesn't appear to me that the aquatic version of the lion lying down with the lamb is going to happen any time soon in the Middle East or anywhere, for that matter.
And it's not because of the Jews, lambs and dolphins, either. Or Gilad Shalit. (May he and the other 2 kidnapped soldiers, Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev, be reunited with their families in the very near future, healthy and whole. Without endangering any more lives by releasing more sharks, er, terrorists, to prey on innocents.)
Perhaps it's time we learned from nature.
Isn't that just so prescient, cooed one female newscaster, given what happened to him. Would that his childhood dream would come true and we could all live together.
For the millionth time I marvel at the naivete (or stupidity) of the Israel press. I mean, the dolphin is not the problem here. Co-existence with dolphins (who are known for intelligence and loyalty) is easy. The threat comes from the sharks, known for sniffing blood and killing without mercy. It doesn't appear to me that the aquatic version of the lion lying down with the lamb is going to happen any time soon in the Middle East or anywhere, for that matter.
And it's not because of the Jews, lambs and dolphins, either. Or Gilad Shalit. (May he and the other 2 kidnapped soldiers, Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev, be reunited with their families in the very near future, healthy and whole. Without endangering any more lives by releasing more sharks, er, terrorists, to prey on innocents.)
Perhaps it's time we learned from nature.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Older and Weiser
One of my closest friends and neighbors, a mother of 6, is the youngest of 4 daughters of Holocaust survivors. Her parents and a sister live in Israel and the other 2 sisters, who live in the US, came here with their families so they could all spend Pesach together. I heard a van pull up to the house on Saturday night and realized that the Americans were leaving, so I went over to say goodbye since we've also become quite friendly over the years.
It was a tearful scene, sisters, cousins and aunts clinging to each other, promising that they would see one another soon- maybe a wedding (there is some serious dating going on), maybe during the summer. I stood at the side with Siggy Weiser, the patriarch of this little clan, a wonderful, kind man whose greatest joy is to see his offspring- 4 children, 17 grandchildren, 4 great-grandchildren, poo, poo, poo- together. As we watched the partings he told me of his last days in Buchenwald. Of the Death March at the end, when the Germans realized the war was lost, where almost all the 80,000 forced to walk and walk and walk didn't survive. Of him and 5000 other Jews left in the camp with 15,000 prisoners of other nationalities. Of watching representatives of other countries coming to take their people home after the war. And of the dawning realization that no one was coming for the Jews. And that home was no more, and neither was his family.
He ended up in France, hoping for a visa to Palestine, where the Jews were proud and strong. (In those days, before the Big Lie was disseminated, Palestinian meant Jew.) There were only 200 distributed and he was not on the list, so he went to the States. He couldn't return to Satmar. He met Shirley, who had miraculously survived Auschwitz although left for dead in a pile of bodies. She had no one left at all. Together, he told me, they hoped to at least have someone. And so they began anew.
A survivor is so much more than someone who physically made it. That was only the beginning. It's someone who didn't give up hope and love of life. Who despite destitution and loss and grief and memories of horrors that most of us in our worst nightmares could not conjure up, chose life. Not anger and revenge, not suicide bombings for sure or the path of hatred, but the tremendous will to rebuild a home and a life. To help mankind in any way possible. And to recreate our independent country, so that this will never happen again.
Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day. 6 million stories that we will not hear and 6 million contributions to mankind that we will not receive; it's just unfathomable that this happened, the older I get the less I comprehend. But we will not forget. We still mourn the destruction of our Temple 2000 later; we will not forget what happened in Europe 65 years ago.
As for Marilyn, nee Weiser, and her extended- what a beautiful word- family. I can laugh with her when she packs a sandwich for her young son when they go to the store (you never know when the Nazis may come) because she inherited the strength and optimism her survivor parents have. I can cry with her when I see her older son in his IDF uniform, a paramedic in an elite unit of the Jewish army, a miracle her father cannot believe he lived to see. May the survivors, who already went through hell on earth, and all of Am Yisrael know only peace in the future.
But barring that, may we have the wisdom to act, along with protection from on High, to ensure that no one ever, ever tries to destroy the Jewish people again.
Am Yisrael Chai. Despite it all, the Jewish Nation lives on. How privileged I am to be one, and to be home in Judea. For good.
It was a tearful scene, sisters, cousins and aunts clinging to each other, promising that they would see one another soon- maybe a wedding (there is some serious dating going on), maybe during the summer. I stood at the side with Siggy Weiser, the patriarch of this little clan, a wonderful, kind man whose greatest joy is to see his offspring- 4 children, 17 grandchildren, 4 great-grandchildren, poo, poo, poo- together. As we watched the partings he told me of his last days in Buchenwald. Of the Death March at the end, when the Germans realized the war was lost, where almost all the 80,000 forced to walk and walk and walk didn't survive. Of him and 5000 other Jews left in the camp with 15,000 prisoners of other nationalities. Of watching representatives of other countries coming to take their people home after the war. And of the dawning realization that no one was coming for the Jews. And that home was no more, and neither was his family.
He ended up in France, hoping for a visa to Palestine, where the Jews were proud and strong. (In those days, before the Big Lie was disseminated, Palestinian meant Jew.) There were only 200 distributed and he was not on the list, so he went to the States. He couldn't return to Satmar. He met Shirley, who had miraculously survived Auschwitz although left for dead in a pile of bodies. She had no one left at all. Together, he told me, they hoped to at least have someone. And so they began anew.
A survivor is so much more than someone who physically made it. That was only the beginning. It's someone who didn't give up hope and love of life. Who despite destitution and loss and grief and memories of horrors that most of us in our worst nightmares could not conjure up, chose life. Not anger and revenge, not suicide bombings for sure or the path of hatred, but the tremendous will to rebuild a home and a life. To help mankind in any way possible. And to recreate our independent country, so that this will never happen again.
Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day. 6 million stories that we will not hear and 6 million contributions to mankind that we will not receive; it's just unfathomable that this happened, the older I get the less I comprehend. But we will not forget. We still mourn the destruction of our Temple 2000 later; we will not forget what happened in Europe 65 years ago.
As for Marilyn, nee Weiser, and her extended- what a beautiful word- family. I can laugh with her when she packs a sandwich for her young son when they go to the store (you never know when the Nazis may come) because she inherited the strength and optimism her survivor parents have. I can cry with her when I see her older son in his IDF uniform, a paramedic in an elite unit of the Jewish army, a miracle her father cannot believe he lived to see. May the survivors, who already went through hell on earth, and all of Am Yisrael know only peace in the future.
But barring that, may we have the wisdom to act, along with protection from on High, to ensure that no one ever, ever tries to destroy the Jewish people again.
Am Yisrael Chai. Despite it all, the Jewish Nation lives on. How privileged I am to be one, and to be home in Judea. For good.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Stuck in the System
Back home to half dead plants, myriad loads of laundry, and a lonely dog. I did, however, add an extra kilo of me. (Love that metric system, 1 kilo sounds so much better than 2+ pounds). Off to work it off between chores before it discovers my hip heaven and gets permanently stuck. (Yes, women relate to fat as a living thing with a mind of its own. If you don't believe ask the other female 48-52% of the planet, depending on the age.)
I spent a good part of last night at the Schneller army hospital with Dani, who threw his back out lifting up a not-so-little cousin. The kid can't walk which is why I drove him in, but they actually told him to report back to base this morning after a 3 hour wait to see the army doctor. I can't believe it, he's in agony, I don't know how he even managed to carry his bag on the train. This is the last time we do this, I'll take him privately to a hospital next time. It's one thing to trust his life to the army; I'm not trusting his health, too, to the system. That sounds absurd, I know, but that's how it is. And I'm just one Jewish mama of many. (The word is that the Israeli Merkava 4 tank was designed by aforementioned mommies, the only tank in the world with the engine in front to better protect the soldiers inside. I can think of worse things to be accused of than doing what we can to protect our children. Wish the rest of the 'hood' of the Mid East felt the same.)
During Pesach we took the kids to the sand dunes of Nitzanim, south of Ashdod. It's an absolutely beautiful nature reserve so close to everything yet once you're there it's the middle of nowhere. I love that about this country; so small - too small- but with a smattering of just about everything except for tropical rain forests. And they're over-rated anyhow. Who needs enormous alligators? The Dead Sea and Ramon Crater are unique of their type in the world, not to mention Jerusalem and other man made places. (Including, now that I think about it, the Schneller hospital. Place looks ancient, not even sure it has running water. Just kidding about that, but it is quite decrepit.) So back to Israel, not bad for a country that a jet can cross in 90 seconds. But how brilliant for the Foreign Ministry to advertise us as a spot with great gay bars and beaches.
On the way back from said great beaches- we skipped the gay bars- of the dune hike, we came across the detritus - there is no other word- of the music festival on the beach. 3 days of young people sleeping and eating in the sand. Gross. The clean up crew had their work cut out for them. There needs to be a public campaign about strewing garbage here, it worked for wildflowers years back, no one picks them now. I just don't get it. People whose homes are spotless think nothing of dropping bags wherever they feel like it.
When I think about the 'Ingathering of the Exiles'- as I occasionally do, like every day - I figure that if we combined all the positives attributes of each culture coming back we'd have a pretty damn amazing country.
And Pesach I could eat popcorn and humus. Let's do it. I'll give you one American style littering campaign for the annulment of the Ashkenazi ban on legumes and a Sephardi type Pesach instead. Anyone care to raise me a Russian mathematics level? French pastries? Which reminds me....my Judean gym awaits. Later, y'all.
I spent a good part of last night at the Schneller army hospital with Dani, who threw his back out lifting up a not-so-little cousin. The kid can't walk which is why I drove him in, but they actually told him to report back to base this morning after a 3 hour wait to see the army doctor. I can't believe it, he's in agony, I don't know how he even managed to carry his bag on the train. This is the last time we do this, I'll take him privately to a hospital next time. It's one thing to trust his life to the army; I'm not trusting his health, too, to the system. That sounds absurd, I know, but that's how it is. And I'm just one Jewish mama of many. (The word is that the Israeli Merkava 4 tank was designed by aforementioned mommies, the only tank in the world with the engine in front to better protect the soldiers inside. I can think of worse things to be accused of than doing what we can to protect our children. Wish the rest of the 'hood' of the Mid East felt the same.)
During Pesach we took the kids to the sand dunes of Nitzanim, south of Ashdod. It's an absolutely beautiful nature reserve so close to everything yet once you're there it's the middle of nowhere. I love that about this country; so small - too small- but with a smattering of just about everything except for tropical rain forests. And they're over-rated anyhow. Who needs enormous alligators? The Dead Sea and Ramon Crater are unique of their type in the world, not to mention Jerusalem and other man made places. (Including, now that I think about it, the Schneller hospital. Place looks ancient, not even sure it has running water. Just kidding about that, but it is quite decrepit.) So back to Israel, not bad for a country that a jet can cross in 90 seconds. But how brilliant for the Foreign Ministry to advertise us as a spot with great gay bars and beaches.
On the way back from said great beaches- we skipped the gay bars- of the dune hike, we came across the detritus - there is no other word- of the music festival on the beach. 3 days of young people sleeping and eating in the sand. Gross. The clean up crew had their work cut out for them. There needs to be a public campaign about strewing garbage here, it worked for wildflowers years back, no one picks them now. I just don't get it. People whose homes are spotless think nothing of dropping bags wherever they feel like it.
When I think about the 'Ingathering of the Exiles'- as I occasionally do, like every day - I figure that if we combined all the positives attributes of each culture coming back we'd have a pretty damn amazing country.
And Pesach I could eat popcorn and humus. Let's do it. I'll give you one American style littering campaign for the annulment of the Ashkenazi ban on legumes and a Sephardi type Pesach instead. Anyone care to raise me a Russian mathematics level? French pastries? Which reminds me....my Judean gym awaits. Later, y'all.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Pesach Prayers
We are in Ashkelon now, had Seder last night with about 100 people in my husband's family. His 93 year old father was there, although he has not been well. He was so happy to see us all together, that's why he and my late mother-in-law arranged for us to do this every year. I tried not to think of the terrorists who would like nothing better than to attack another hotel on Pesach night- a la Netanya 5 years ago- and the damage they would inflict on this extended family. I don't try to figure out why anyone would consider that a good thing to do, it's beyond my capabilities as a Jew and human being. While Israel sends medics into Gaza to treat an Arab woman for a heart attack I can only be thankful yet again that we are who we are, despite the evil around us.
Our blessed soldiers are working so hard to keep us secure; they had their Seder on tin trays in guard posts and bases all over the country so that we could be safe with our families. And then there are the 119 families whose sons (and one daughter) were killed in Lebanon last summer, the 3 families of our captives, the civilian casualties, so many people for whom the sacrifice of keeping our freedom has come at great cost. There are no words to express the gratitude I feel to all of them, I can only do my little part to make this a better place so that it will have been worth it. Maybe.
It is a joy to see our niece Batsheva in advanced pregnancy, patiently taking care of her 3 little ones. Her firstborn son, Yehuda Shoham, lies in his tiny grave in Shilo, a 5 month old victim of the terror that has plagued us for so long. Life goes on, but it's never the same. All our children and our granddaughter are with us, something Earl and I did not take for granted and which made my night complete -even before I had 4 cups of wine.
We are long out of Egypt, a great nation chosen by God to be a light unto other nations. The road is a long one and sometimes I think that our problems with some Jews are no less a burden than our issues with our enemies. But what a privilege to belong to this people, to be living in our homeland and remembering our humble beginnings and the continuing miracles wrought for us on the way. Parting the Reed Sea was only the most dramatic one.
Instead of having a Judean evening I am listening to the surf outside my window (and hopefully not a Kassam exploding nearby). We are out of Exile but still have to get the Diaspora and appeasement mindset out of us. May this holiday of redemption herald the final one and a world at peace.
Happy Pesach to the House of Israel.
Our blessed soldiers are working so hard to keep us secure; they had their Seder on tin trays in guard posts and bases all over the country so that we could be safe with our families. And then there are the 119 families whose sons (and one daughter) were killed in Lebanon last summer, the 3 families of our captives, the civilian casualties, so many people for whom the sacrifice of keeping our freedom has come at great cost. There are no words to express the gratitude I feel to all of them, I can only do my little part to make this a better place so that it will have been worth it. Maybe.
It is a joy to see our niece Batsheva in advanced pregnancy, patiently taking care of her 3 little ones. Her firstborn son, Yehuda Shoham, lies in his tiny grave in Shilo, a 5 month old victim of the terror that has plagued us for so long. Life goes on, but it's never the same. All our children and our granddaughter are with us, something Earl and I did not take for granted and which made my night complete -even before I had 4 cups of wine.
We are long out of Egypt, a great nation chosen by God to be a light unto other nations. The road is a long one and sometimes I think that our problems with some Jews are no less a burden than our issues with our enemies. But what a privilege to belong to this people, to be living in our homeland and remembering our humble beginnings and the continuing miracles wrought for us on the way. Parting the Reed Sea was only the most dramatic one.
Instead of having a Judean evening I am listening to the surf outside my window (and hopefully not a Kassam exploding nearby). We are out of Exile but still have to get the Diaspora and appeasement mindset out of us. May this holiday of redemption herald the final one and a world at peace.
Happy Pesach to the House of Israel.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
The Last Supper
The kids and Earl are downstairs playing 'Settler's' as we all take a pre-Pesach break from cleaning. It's a great game, has nothing to do with us, was invented by a German, no less, in the '90's. Guess the name hasn't hurt sales. I just brought home an expansion pack so they're busy and since the chair I collapsed into is in front of my computer you guys lucked out. They're eating whatever is left (peanut butter on tortilla wraps, cereal, stale granola bars) so I don't have to do dinner.
I had a brief but emotional phone conversation today with Vivienne from Ramle. When I was in LA her son, whom I'll call Saul, was our driver when Arieh Eldad and I went to Fresno (raisin capital of the world, yessiree) to see Victor Davis Hanson. Google him, he's amazing. Very pro-Israel, brilliant, Stanford prof, farmer, advisor to the White House, but so unassuming and modest. He didn't meet any Jews till he was an adult, which may account for why he likes my kind of Israel. See Clinton for what happens when you know Jews in college, the liberal kind. Oy.
Back to 'Saul'. He's been in LA for 3 years and is very bitter and sad about Israel. He felt he had to leave, that things were not the way he needed them to be. Under the anger you could hear so much pain, though. He and Arieh had a rather, um, lively discussion. Arieh said that he agreed with him that things needed to be changed, but that can only be done by living in Israel, and that the chances of Saul's grandchildren being Jewish if he stayed in the US were really not so high. Jews can't afford to stop struggling and let the indecent and incompetent people run the show; we have too much at stake. Anyhow, I took his mother's number to wish her a happy Pesach and tell her what a nice son she has raised, and that I hope he and his wife and daughter come home one day. He had told me how he once called her on the way south with 40 other soldiers and asked her to get some pitot and humus for them, only to walk in the door to a barbeque feast. She was so touched that he had shared that with me. I didn't tell her the sadder story of when he saw 10 American servicemen get off a plane in LA to a standing ovation and salutes from everyone in the terminal, and that he had to go to the restroom till he stopped crying from grief that he never felt that appreciation at home. As he should have.
My Dani came home in uniform on Friday for the first time. It was a huge mix of feelings; pride, fear, sorrow that it's 70 years too late for 6 million of my people, wonder at where the time has gone so that my little curly top boy now towers over me. And carries a gun.
May he and all soldiers fighting for the free world be safe, loved, supported. And most of all, successful.
Happy Pesach on a cool and rainy Judean eve.
I had a brief but emotional phone conversation today with Vivienne from Ramle. When I was in LA her son, whom I'll call Saul, was our driver when Arieh Eldad and I went to Fresno (raisin capital of the world, yessiree) to see Victor Davis Hanson. Google him, he's amazing. Very pro-Israel, brilliant, Stanford prof, farmer, advisor to the White House, but so unassuming and modest. He didn't meet any Jews till he was an adult, which may account for why he likes my kind of Israel. See Clinton for what happens when you know Jews in college, the liberal kind. Oy.
Back to 'Saul'. He's been in LA for 3 years and is very bitter and sad about Israel. He felt he had to leave, that things were not the way he needed them to be. Under the anger you could hear so much pain, though. He and Arieh had a rather, um, lively discussion. Arieh said that he agreed with him that things needed to be changed, but that can only be done by living in Israel, and that the chances of Saul's grandchildren being Jewish if he stayed in the US were really not so high. Jews can't afford to stop struggling and let the indecent and incompetent people run the show; we have too much at stake. Anyhow, I took his mother's number to wish her a happy Pesach and tell her what a nice son she has raised, and that I hope he and his wife and daughter come home one day. He had told me how he once called her on the way south with 40 other soldiers and asked her to get some pitot and humus for them, only to walk in the door to a barbeque feast. She was so touched that he had shared that with me. I didn't tell her the sadder story of when he saw 10 American servicemen get off a plane in LA to a standing ovation and salutes from everyone in the terminal, and that he had to go to the restroom till he stopped crying from grief that he never felt that appreciation at home. As he should have.
My Dani came home in uniform on Friday for the first time. It was a huge mix of feelings; pride, fear, sorrow that it's 70 years too late for 6 million of my people, wonder at where the time has gone so that my little curly top boy now towers over me. And carries a gun.
May he and all soldiers fighting for the free world be safe, loved, supported. And most of all, successful.
Happy Pesach on a cool and rainy Judean eve.
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