Create Change

The Ask - Fundraising Moments

2010-05-04T18:55:00.003+03:00

The seminal moment came on Monday night in Hartford. A late arrival to a parlor meeting which had been under attended in the first place. I thought to myself, ‘Oh no, I have to make a presentation all over again.’ Within 5 minutes of sitting back down and listening to some of the chitchat between another listener and my newcomer, I realized that I had a rare opportunity. To pitch a very well to do, philanthropically minded individual.

What to do? Listen. We talked about a variety of things from his interest areas and passions locally to his business and his thoughts about the Jewish community in his town. I told him about Shutaf (LINK) and our hopes and desires for the future. I shared numbers and stories about kids and lives changed for the better.

I was honest and told him not only what we need for this summer but what we need to grow and continue to serve our population of kids and teens with special needs.

I reminded myself a few times that developing a relationship with a giver of means takes time. I also reminded myself that he dropped in on the parlor meeting and that he knew that he’d be meeting and hearing about a charity in Israel – an organization dedicated to making a difference in the lives of children and their families.

I wrote him and thanked him for coming. I’ll continue to explore ways of engaging his interest and inviting him to be a partner, a builder an active member of the Shutaf community.

It was less scary than I thought. That’s a change for the better I think.

PS. He didn't step up to the plate yet. Right now, he's busy with many good things in his community but it's a relationship I'll work on and hopefully develop in the years to come.

Thoughts about Home

2010-05-04T18:16:00.008+03:00

Thoughts from my trip to the US in March.

I arrived in NYC. JFK felt as I remembered it – a bit grubby and unfriendly, a long walk from the plane and the annoyance of having to pay for your luggage carts. It’s so nice that they’re free at Ben Gurion Airport. I walked out with my luggage and enjoyed the searching glances of people waiting for their loved ones – ‘is that her?’ ‘no,’ said with a deep sigh and a glance at the cell phone, willing it to ring with news from baggage claim.

Being picked up was a plus. Sitting in the car next to little Michael, now aged 7, with friends Don and Judy in the front seat, I felt at ease. Driving on the Belt Parkway in stop and go traffic, I felt a shock of déjà vu. Pulling up in Brooklyn in front of their lovely brownstone, I felt at home. Or, at least I sort of did.

What was once deeply familiar, almost unpleasantly so at times, has become somewhat novel and even nostalgic. Walking on Court Street, I noted what stores had closed and who had survived the recession. On Smith, noting the usual array of new restaurants alongside the stalwart favorites held its same appeal, perhaps with a note of melancholy for the havoc that the economic collapse had wrought on the always happening and hip restaurant row.

The subway thrilled me with its speed and ease of use. Being underground is so much more pleasant than shlepping along the street on the bus. I assumed the NY train stance – legs hip width apart, body held conspicuously tightly so as to avoid any untoward contact during rush hour. I made eye contact with almost no one and enjoyed the anonymity and studied unfriendliness – well it’s not exactly unfriendliness, it’s just minding your own business.

I walked the streets of Manhattan and enjoyed the press of bodies, the noise, the color, the thrilling pace of it all. I was dressed like a business person myself – unusual for me – I fit right in with the rank and file office worker. I yapped on the phone with the locals, ate soup at Hale and Hearty and shopped when I had a minute amongst the malls of Manhattan. Shocking really, the mallification of NYC.

And yet, I kept wanting to say excuse me in Hebrew, or sign my name on the credit receipts in a foreign language. I yearned to sit outside and linger over an espresso, Starbucks just didn’t call to me.

The weather was fine, except for the ‘Nor’easter’ over the weekend, complete with intense rain and wind. It was a novelty that had it’s pleasures – I’ve grown to enjoy rain and to be grateful for it. The fatalities that accompanied the weather took the pleasure out of it for sure and when the sun finally shone, it felt like a rare and special gift.

But home is where the hearth is. My thoughts were with my family – my husband coping with home and Akiva. The big boys sending me notes every so often letting me know they were alive. The back and forth with Jessica about work – the bits and pieces that let me know that she and her family were fine. Wondering about everyone else – Ira filled in my questions and wrote long and informational emails.

Even the Kane Street Synagogue, my spiritual home for so many years was not home anymore. It still impressed me with its beauty and its lived in historic feel. Sitting next to friends felt wonderful. Eating lunch with friends was equally wonderful. It wasn’t home though. I may struggle each week to figure out where I want to be on Saturday mornings and who my friends and community are only 3-years into our Israel adventure but I’ve moved beyond the style and feel of my Brooklyn home of yore.

That’s okay, I think. Home is a changing notion over the course of one’s life. It shifts with age, development, emotions and thought. It can be something simple like walking down a favorite street, or laying in bed next to your partner, or sharing a good laugh with a dear friend.

Home now? Israel. Where I’ve learned that I can live – despite the challenges. Where will home be one day in the future? Not sure. Hopefully, with the people I love best of all.

Friendships - A History

2010-01-12T12:59:00.000+02:00

We, rather I in particular, prided ourselves on our kids' friends back in NY - from all walks of life. Living in Brooklyn for 20 years, we liked the fact that our block was multi-racial, that through the homeschooling world we had friends who were Catholic, Protestant, Lutheran, Mormon, Muslim, Agnostic, Black, Caucasian, Asian...and so on. Sure, our synagogue, Kane Street, provided an important point of reference for us as a family - we went every weekend, were involved in all sorts of projects, volunteered our time, shared meals with friends - and enriched our lives within the local, Jewish community but I always prided myself that I had stepped away from the ghetto that was my upbringing.

To be fair, I grew up in a lily white town, that wasn't home to so many Jews. Malverne, New York, on the South Shore of Long Island was a pleasant enough place to grow up in - tree-lined streets that were perfect for kickball with the local kids of whom there was always a group from which to choose up a team. (I'm reminded of Bill Bryson's reminiscences of his childhood. How there were always hundreds of kids waiting to play at every street corner.) But conflict simmered under the surface with some kids being more acceptable than others and nobody wanted to play with Anthony on the next block who was fond of making racial epithets and using language to which we had not yet graduated. Synagogue life was fairly dull for me. Problem #1, I was the Rabbi's daughter, making me already suspect to other kids and #2, I didn't attend the local public school, I went privately to a Jewish Day School in another town. So, I made friends but the friendships were tentative and not lasting. My sister's both were fortunate enough to make close friends who enjoyed getting to know our family and our different style of life - both girls were from Catholic families - but neither my brother nor I had the same luck.

Moving to Brooklyn as a newlywed was truly entering a new life. Aged, wizened looking ladies in black walked the streets, tough looking Italian guys hung out on street corners smoking, older men spilled out of the social clubs that were still found in the neighborhood of Carroll Gardens where we lived. When we moved to Boerum Hill, the demographics shifted yet again. Pacific Street is close to two housing projects and our block boasted a Latino population that had lived in the neighborhood through the tough years of the 60's and 70's. Read Jonathan Lethem's The Fortress of Solitude for a sense of the neighborhood during that time.

We made friends on the block and grew to enjoy the mix that developed over our years on Pacific Street. Moving to Jerusalem in 2006, we weren't sure what to expect. We didn't move so that our kids would only have Jewish friends or so that I could stop obsessing about how they'd every meet nice Jewish girls - they met plenty of lovely non-Jewish ones - but I hoped that it would become a bit easier to do so. Our kids slowly made some friends, going through a series of short-term relationships (Gabe especially) until they really found friends for the long run. It is a bit more mixed that you'd think even if it's nothing like NYC. Yeah, almost all of them are Jewish but they come from a variety of backgrounds religiously - like Gabe's buddy the Hebrew Christian, or Natan's Druze friends in the army - and politically as well as financially. Not everyone is a lawyer or doctor here - strange to me after New York. Kids's parents work in the NPO world, in teaching, social services - often, I have no idea what they do. I find the political differences often more polarizing than the religious ones - a subject for another blog post.

Last Saturday night, I left the house for my usual post-Shabbat gym and swim. The house was in full swing, with Natan and a group of his friends, along with Gabe and the girlfriend, playing and singing Elton John (!) on the piano and guitar. It was such a nice scene - a sign of how far everyone has come in the past 3.5 years here and an indicator of future success and happiness. It doesn't take away missing what we left in Brooklyn but I'm glad for what they've found and worked on since we've gotten here. I guess as a Jewish mother, I wonder if their Jewish future is secure but remind myself that it's much too early to tell - where they'll go, with whom they'll be, what they'll want to observe. I guess living here in Jerusalem is only one step on their personal - and mine, too - journey.

It may not be Manhattan

2010-01-10T21:02:00.000+02:00

But we can be at the Dead Sea in little over an hour. No skyscrapers, it's true but stunning views of rocky cliffs - brown, craggy hills tufted with swirling patterns of the sea perhaps created in some long ago millennium.

The view is truly an unusual one, and it's made even more so by it's proximity to the big city - Jerusalem. As one descends the road from town, the view becomes increasingly space age, as regular flora and fauna give way to brown - with little relief. Towns are tucked into the hill around you - Ma'alei Adumim and it's spinoffs - Mishor Adumim and Mitzpe Adumim. Bits of green abound near the towns - surprisingly lushly in spots, which always makes one wonder about the water used to grow such greenery. Bedouin encampments are scattered along the side of the road, some quite crude looking, others complete with satellite dishes and water tanks. I always think of the women and how they manage keeping house under such conditions - tin roofs, patchy walls made from fabric, tarp and other simple stuffs. Broiling in the summer and freezing in the winter. Even if one likes living off the grid, this doesn't look pleasurable to my modern eyes.

Signs along the road mark the descent in terms of sea level. The Dead Sea shimmers in the distance, an impossibly, still body of water, surprisingly blue from afar. On the other side of the coast, Jordan beckons, it's mountains rugged, red hued and impressive looking.

We turn right at the bottom, driving past signposts with an ancient pedigree - Qumran and Nahal Kidron. At Mineral Beach, we park and change into our suits in the car - one of my favorite rusticating things to do. We head for the hot pool and sink in with a grateful sigh. Lovely if a bit tingly in all the areas that you'd forgotten about - the cut on your hand, the rough patch of skin on your elbows, etc. Follow that with a walk down to the Dead Sea itself and the obligatory mud rub and wash up in the Sea. Sit and relax. Eat a bit. Read. Work on the Sunday crossword puzzle. Get cold. Head back up to the hot pool for a final soak and float - we've gotten good at managing the weightless feeling in the water and can even do it on our bellies without getting any water in our mouths.

Driving back home after changing back into dry clothes - yes, we could have done it in the bathroom but we didn't want to - we feel rested, relaxed, sort of dry and salty but our skin is soft and smooth to the touch. The road is quiet, the light softer as the day begins to fade towards evening.

And Manhattan glistens in the distance - a mirage, 6000 miles away.

A Conversation about Healing

2010-01-03T17:02:00.000+02:00

What makes people change their tune and decide not to fight anymore? How do people shed their old belief systems and move to new ones? Does acceptance really bring about healing and change?

I'm reminded of the 2005 Tsunami - amid the devastation in Sri Lanka and elsewhere, longtime rebel revolutionaries, the Tamil Tigers suspended their activities during the rebuilding period. They didn't seem to undergo too much of a change because they returned to their anti-government activities and related violence some months later.

What about the Middle East? What would it take for peace to truly 'break out' locally? We know that much has to happen, from improving the well-being of Arab citizens of Israel to Palestinian school children being taught the real history of the region and not manufactured stories guaranteed to make them into the suicide bombers and militants of tomorrow. Both sides have to learn to trust again and to believe that peace would be better than the other alternative.

Last week I popped in for a cup of tea and a bit of chat with friend and feminist mover and shaker, Tova Hartman. I was greeted at the door by Racheli, Tova's middle daughter, who welcomed me inside even though Tova hadn't gotten home yet. Standard procedure for this household which always has friends and neighbors popping in during the day. Tova bustled in with groceries in hand and her elder daughter, Nomi, pregnant and feeling lousy with a flu of some sort - not Swine according to the doctor. Within minutes, the kettle was up and snacks had been dispatched to all in need. Tova joined me and we chatted about stuff - life, kids, aging parents (hers and my mother).

Tova commented - I'm not sure how we got to this part of the conversation - about what she felt was the missing link in achieving peace and healing in the region. She said, 'in order for peace to happen, defeat must be accepted.' It seems so simple, right? But let's consider what that might mean to our neighbors in Gaza. Palestinian peoples must deal with the loss of their land, their homes, their dream of nationhood in 1948, the sour taste in their mouths that the Jews won, the feelings of disillusionment with having become refugees for more than a generation. Okay, big demand but then again, they've had 60 years to deal with the defeat - maybe it's time.

Of course, as I type those words I say to myself, 'duh,' this is not rocket science, but as Tova spoke further about healing being the result of accepting defeat the other day, I thought, 'she's right.' Loss is painful of course, loss hurts, loss sticks in your throat, especially when you've spent decades perfecting the art of loss - teaching it to your kids, living as a refugee - and the greater art of hatred as a result.

In life, one always deals with loss. Loss of job, loved one, dreams, hopes - these are the difficult emotions that can cross our 'desks' on a regular basis. I've dealt with the loss of intellect ever since Akiva was born. Not that he doesn't have intellect but I've had to accept that his is different and that he may never read or write or really converse with me in a meaningful fashion. Years of thinking about this has helped me cope with the daily insults of rearing someone with developmental delay in a world that isn't so willing to forgive him with what I've come to terms.

What about the acceptance that comes with defeat? Tova's line of reasoning continued with the thought that once you've accepted defeat, you can deal with it when it 'rises up in your throat' again and again. Again, a sensible response. Acceptance leads to acceptance or acceptance leads to understanding or acceptance leads to peace.

I know I don't always feel at peace with the things that I do accept in my life. I might feel a bit more at ease with them but I don't necessarily feel contentment. I'm a person who likes to do - acceptance is okay with me but change is even better. But you can't always change everything that you need to accept and sometimes you just can't do, you just have to let it be.

May we all find some sort of peace and healing in 2010.

Siblings in Need

2009-12-23T16:31:00.000+02:00

Had a fun day filming at Shutaf last week, with friend and fellow parent of a kid with special needs, Michael Liben. Michael and I are friends from childhood and the Malverne Jewish Center, where my father was Rabbi for 25 years before retiring in 1992 and making Aliyah to Israel. Michael went to Brandeis High School while I was at Hillel - we shared the bus as the two schools were across from the street each other although they were much farther apart ideologically but that's another story.

Michael and I were looking for a story and that day we decided to follow the Junior Counselors - local teens, ages 15-19, both with disabilities and without. They were having one of their midday meetings and we shot them chatting, laughing and having fun, a blend of energy and happiness - no teen was left out of the discussion and nobody was marginalized because of disability.

After the teens went off back to their groups, we had a brief chat with one teen, Avigail and the Teen Coordinator, Nomi. At first, the camera made everyone a bit stiff until I asked the question of Avigail, 'why do you come to Shutaf?' She gave a positive response 'I love being with kids with special needs.' But I wanted a bit more and Avigail is the older sister of Atara who was at camp with us during the summer. Atara's issues are not insignificant - developmental and physical - so I wondered that Avigail had no sibling fatigue from dealing with kids with disabilities. I asked her about this. She told me that when she goes with her sister to the park or to shul that often she's hurt by how other kids behave to her. She said, 'I go home and I cry.' She also said that 'Atara doesn't understand' but of course, Avigail does and hurts for herself and her sister's feelings.

We talked more about this but I was struck by this feeling that Shutaf works for her because it's a place she can let down her hair and not worry about having her feelings hurt - about feeling any sense of humiliation for her sister, her self or for some perceived lack in her family because of her sister's presence. She can love her sister even more because of Shutaf and maybe she can forgive herself for any of the guilt she carries about this mix of feelings percolating around in her head and heart.

Wow. Maybe that's why I like Shutaf too.

A Letter to the Editor

2009-12-13T17:09:00.001+02:00

A local friend sent me a link to a recent article in the Jewish Week about the invisibility of being a certain kind of kid with special needs. It was hard not to want to react, both as a parent of a child with special needs and as a professional and exec at Shutaf. Even though my child's issues are more apparent, I understood immediately the frustration and sadness of the parents writing in to the paper. We want acceptance - for our kids and for ourselves. It's time that the great community really consider what that means. I don't know if my letter will make it so here it is for you to read and opine.

Dear Jewish Week,
November's article 'Invisible Disability' Kids are being Left Out' struck a chord with me. My 12 year old son, Akiva, has a more visible disability - Down Syndrome and PDD - and yet, he is often just as invisible in community life. While he has many adult friends at Kehilat Mayanot in Jerusalem(where we regularly attend), and is welcomed when he arrives, he tends to remain by our side during Shabbat services. He's outgrown the children's service - he's too big to sit with the little ones - and we no longer have the patience to accompany him. Most kids don't know how to relate to him and he lacks the social skills to make appropriate overtures even though he loves contact with other children.

When we lived in Brooklyn and attended the Kane Street Synagogue, we often wondered how we'd ever find a way to connect him with the other kids of the community. Once a child passes through the cute toddler stage (when all the teenage girls lavish attention), if they can't run with the pack they get left behind. If a kid has more moderate or 'invisible' issues, they suffer even more - they look like the others but can't cope with the typical kids social pace and demands. When we left Brooklyn and moved to Jerusalem, community life became even harder. At least in Brooklyn, everyone knew us and knew Akiva. Here, we were brand new and people weren't used to Akiva's noisy shul presence, consequently, we didn't feel welcome in every shul.

Inclusion and acceptance are critical areas that need to be developed in every area of Jewish life - as an ethical, social and necessary Jewish value. Parents need to be educated and children taught to watch, care and include - with love and acceptance.

Looking to answer my own child's needs, I co-founded a new camp and after school program in Jerusalem that teaches these important skills - Shutaf. At Shutaf, we've developed a unique new inclusion model that that teaches these important values in real time. We 'include' the typical kids, who are outnumbered by kids with special needs - all types, all disabilities, visible and invisible. Differences are not such a big deal when everyone is having fun together - when the program is carefully planned and the staff well-trained. By leveling the playing field in such a dramatic fashion at Shutaf, we teach with a gentle hand and make a difference in the lives of all the kids that participate. And our teen program offers opportunities for the older set to feel less marginalized by their differences. They train and work and earn, alongside their typical peers and life looks just a bit more brighter.

It's not so impossible to create more programs like Shutaf in every community. Youth movement programs could be easily adapted to an inclusion model like Shutaf's. With proper parent support and education, barriers to such programs; fear, lack of awareness and experience, can be reduced and over time even eliminated.

Parents of kids with special needs have special needs. We need extra attention and effort paid - we tend to feel isolated and alone in our lives, even if we have good friends and seem involved in community life. The toll of caring for our kids takes a huge amount out of us. Making such efforts will go along way to bringing us back from the margins, from the 'invisible' corners of the community. And remember this - the typical kid and teen who has a positive experience now with a child with special needs may be the one who will hire him/her in the future, who will have less fear and more awareness that we're really all created in the image of G-d. Tikkun Olam - something we all need.

Thank you,

Beth

--
Beth Steinberg
Executive Director and Founder, Shutaf.
Shutaf. Community. Inclusion. Fun.
www.campshutaf.org/

Is NPO a Dirty Word? Finding a Model that Works in 2010

2009-12-03T19:41:00.000+02:00

Those of us working in the NPO world constantly think about fundraising - how, when, where, etc. Then again, those working the world of profits always think about money - bottom line, where's the next money making idea, profit margins, etc.

But in fundraising circles there is this increasing sense that NPO's have to reconsider how they do business, especially in these economic times. How can one stay current in the world of 'the ask,' where every conversation may lead you to new contacts, where every letter of inquiry might, once and for all, be the one that means real sustainable funding for your program. Or, how to move beyond the constant scrounge for funding to monies that mean growth, development and success in the years to come for the organization. Can one use a for profit approach that will reduce the fatigue of 'yet another NPO asking for funds.'

But what about the social worth factor? Something that makes a difference to others. Isn't that why you got yourself into this mess? As Dan Pallota, longtime NPO innovator writes, "We got involved because human suffering is not okay with us, and because we wanted to stop it."

Pallota, believes that NPO's should be allowed to do business in a way that would align them much more with profit making businesses, and in his new book, Uncharitable, writes that NPO's should be unleashed to do their good works under a free-market model.

“It is about freeing charities—and all of the good people who work for them—from a set of rules that were designed for another age and another purpose, and that actually undermine their potential and our compassion,” writes Dan Pallotta in Uncharitable (Tufts University, 2008).

As a parent of a child with special needs, I can tell you that I did not intend to start a program that would grow from 10-40 kids in less than a year. But it was hard to stop the ball from rolling once my colleague and I saw the need. Shutaf, the camp program that we founded makes a difference, serving children during long school vacations, August and 1x a week. Did the funding or lack thereof stop us from bringing in teens with special needs as well? Err, no. Our own kids are growing up and we saw the need. More than two years into this venture, we have yet to take a salary or truly pay ourselves back for costs incurred and time given.

Maybe Shutaf isn't yet ready for the kind of business models that Pallotta presents or maybe we should have considered building our infrastructure from the get go the same way a new business would. And yet, when I recall our 2nd camp, back in December 07, we had a budget shortfall. Essentially, we had some donations to make camp possible that combined with parent tuition should have covered everything. It didn't. One salary to one specialist remained unpaid for 6 months, until we had more funds in place by the following summer. Powerful lesson I thought at the time. We will never run a program again if we're not sure that we have the money. That's a good business lesson, one worth learning but not one that all NPO's follow - at least not here in Israel.

What about partnering with NPO's doing similar work? This makes sense in theory but in practice or reality, doesn't always jive.

At Shutaf, we've been examining this concept from all sides but have discovered that it's not so easy. We spent much of the past summer negotiating with two local organizations in order to run our proposed weekly program for Shutaf kids with them. One organization works within the community and offers much of interest to typically-developing kids. Kids with special needs fit in only if they can manage within traditional inclusion boundaries - that is, they can be part of the program with minimal intervention. Unsurprisingly, many kids with special needs don't take part because they need extra staff or for the program to be adapted to their needs. They want us to bring our kids to them but were unwilling to really offer a space or a way of making it possible. Organization #2 works with a mainly adult population (they started off as kids) and is accustomed to the needs presented by people with special needs, even bigger needs, but they're not sure why they should bother with our method and our population - what's the worth in it for them. After having spend some time trying to convince both of them, we gave up for a while - rather, we retreated to reconsider a better approach in the future.

Financially it could have been a boon for us - shared resources, shared funds and a chance to fundraise and tell individuals and organizations that we serve more children, learn from each others methodologies and ultimately make a bigger and better difference.

We sat down again, rethought our finances, decided that we could manage a bare bones program for a small group of kids and went ahead with our fall program albeit much more simply - 8-10 children, 1x a week and found ourselves a hosting location willing to make it work for us financially. A success? We think so, but that means we're back to square 1 when it comes to finding longterm funds for the program.

I constantly think about other ways that we can generate funding in a more traditional sense. Lots of ideas but none that would work right now. We're running a program in a poor city, serving many marginal families with children who would not attend our programs unless they were as subsidized as we make them.

How do we move our young organization to a business model that foundations would still fund and private donors would still find acceptable? One that would impress them both with our financial acumen and ways of making it work - especially in this particular market and economic environment. And, how do we, an NPO barely scraping by, get the right kind of advice and mentorship that could mean success and a viable future for our organization so that we can continue with our mission of quality, inclusive informal-education programming for children and teens with special needs?

Here's a great closing story that makes me feel like a real Vermonter, given that at Shutaf we're quite careful with every shekel. Christopher Kimball from Cooks' Illustrated wrote recently (sorry, couldn't find the original)..

I leave you with yet another story from Allen R. Foley, who wrote The Old-Timer Talks Back. It was foliage season and a tourist cruising the back roads felt an immediate need to visit toilet facilities, so he stopped at a farm. The lady of the house directed him to the privy out back. On arriving there, he was embarrassed to find it already occupied by the farmer.
“No bother,” said the farmer. “This is a two-holer, so come on in.”
Later, as the farmer was leaving, a dime fell out of his pants and slipped down the hole. The farmer got out his leather wallet, removed a $5 bill, and tossed it down the hole.
“What in the world did you do that for?” exclaimed the visitor.
“Mister,” said the farmer, “you don’t think, do you, that I would climb down in there for just a dime?”

Shalva - Akiva's Afternoon Program for kids with special needs

2009-11-17T16:56:00.000+02:00

It's 4:28pm. Ordinarily, I'd be scurrying around the house dealing with Akiva - wiping noses, changing music/dvd's, mopping pee, running laundry, making snacks...waiting for Melina to come and whisk him away to an afternoon activity.

Not since Akiva started Shalva. Shalva runs an afterschool program for kids with special needs - like Akiva - with developmental delay mostly; Down Syndrome, MR, ADD, ADHD and ASD, etc, who come from school on their school buses to enjoy a few hours in the hands of young, caring staff in an absolutely lovely environment overlooking the Jerusalem forest.

So far, so good. Akiva goes happily, asks for Shalva on non-Shalva days and even better, the staff there seems to be enjoying him despite an initial settling in period that has included some hitting and scratching and no small amount of toileting adventures.

As a parent - how to ford the beginning of a new program? What to 'tell' and what to let them 'find out on their own?' How much to badger the staff so that you feel that you 'know' what's going on?

Best practices require that you share the good with the bad. What will be hard in the transition to the new space/program, how to interact with your child and how to make his/her experience great for everyone. As for maintaining regular contact with the staff - sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't.

Still that's easier said than done. We keep a notebook that's passed back and forth between Akiva's teachers at school. We instituted the notebook right away with Shalva but it took a few weeks for the counselors to readily write in it and moreover to cover what needed to know the most - did he eat dinner and how did toileting go (did he go or not).

Even with the notebook, it's hard to know what he's really doing each day. Akiva gets off the bus with a smile but he rarely shares any of his days' adventures making it challenging to follow up with him at the end of a long day. He may give you a word from an event of 3 months ago or from the day before. Rarely does he share in 'real time.'

Most importantly, how does your child seem? We take our cues from his stress level - is he grinding his teeth or chewing on his fingers excessively? Is he responding - in his way - to questions in a pleasant manner? Does he seem tidy and well cared for? Focusing on the basics will help you over that initial period of worry and 'is my child being taken care of properly.'

Thankfully, Akiva appears to be settling in well and Ira and I are thrilled - for ourselves, for the big boys and for Akiva, who now has social opportunities beyond the school day and Shutaf.

Week

2009-05-21T21:40:00.002+03:00

It's been a busy week. New project for me and Jess - came as a result of the 'on hiatus' Honey and hopefully will bring us both parnassa/a living as well as some good writing experiences. Right now, just slogging away at re-writes and edits of existing text for 2 websites. It's long and vaguely interesting and lots of back and forth between investigating facts, etc. Still, nice to make a living at doing something - Shutaf certainly wasn't going to bring me fame and fortune, especially not this year.

Ira's in the US but I'm in a good head because it's a shortish trip with him leaving on a Monday night/Tuesday morning and he'll be home next Monday. Not bad really and Sister Sarah coming for Shabbat and here it is already Thursday - he'll be home before we know it. Akiva's had a good week, with many trips to the pool - it was quite nastily hot earlier this week - and today was horseback riding. He's doing so beautifully with his riding - holding the reins (something he hates to do), standing in the stirrups and counting to 10 with Katia, his instructor, working with Katia using a lead rope (meaning he controls the horse, sort of!) and mounting and dismounting with little help. Huge things. Some weeks he's focused and some weeks he's in his own head but he loves to go and have his riding adventure.

The boys are out seeing the Star Trek movie tonight with a cast of the usual crowd. They've also been working on a song together for next week's benefit concert at the Democratic School. Children of the 70's, singing Cats in the Cradle. If only Harry were still alive to hear them. I think he died in 1979, no maybe that was Therman Munson - on the Long Island Expressway no less - what a way to go. I just checked, it was 1981, which makes sense as I was in college when it happened and Chapin played Queens College all of the time - I had friends who were huge fans. It's something to hear my two boys - Natan on piano and Gabe on guitar singing and harmonizing together - very nice. I told them now they should work on Mr Tanner but Natan said not bloody likely. I think Mr Tanner is sung by a contra-tenor.

Not too much cooking for Shabbat this week. Friday night with Jess, Daniel and boys. Saturday lunch at Miriam and Peretz. Have to make stuff but not a full complement of stuff. Natan has peach sorbet and some sort of sherbet with whipped eggwhites planned. Should be fun.

A good weekend and Shabbat to all.

Wedding Bells

2009-05-13T12:07:00.002+03:00

Had a wedding on Erev Lag Ba'omer - Tova Hartman's daughter Nomi. A pleasure to be invited as part of the Shira Hadasha community and as a friend of Tova's. Then again, it was us and about 600 of their closest buddies. Welcome my friends to the Israeli wedding where everyone comes to enjoy and be happy. Sister Sarah often comments about the weddings in her neighboring community of Rosh Ha'ayin which is about 98% Yemenite - everyone is related in some way...therefore, everyone is invited. Sarah, who is included by virtue of her being an alto in the choir - it's Sarah and all the Yemenites - describes that the weddings are about 900 people and that if she doesn't show, the hostess always knows.

Nomi and Eli'ad's wedding was at Naom Kedumim, a lovely site a bit past Modiin on 443 - it's a place for wandering and doing activities of a bibilical style. That means baking the ubiquitous pitot and making herbed olive oils and whatever else stands in for biblical here. It's quite large and they often host all sorts of happy events as well. What's great is that you're not stuck in the overly air-conditioned catering hall. The evening was cool, the stars were out - talk about an 'open Huppah/marriage canopy' to the skies. Very nice.

The crowd was a young one - lots of friends dressed in that uniquely drapey style of clothing typical of a young, Orthodox Jew in these parts. Not a lot of dressing up in the usual New York wedding style, except for the immediate families who all looked lovely in their finery - the women, that is. The men wore white shirts and dark pants. No, wait, the groom wore an untucked white shirt with his tzitzit hanging out, along with khakis and sandals. Now that's an outfit. Comfortable, clean and easy. The bride wore a lovely, modest white dress that fit her beautifully and went nicely with her simply braided hair - no makeup, no jewels. She went as a bride should in Jewish custom - unadorned. It was a spiritual bunch - between the Shira Hadasher's who are always ready to break into 4 part harmony and the younger set who sang, wept, waved their hands and jumped (when the music was jumpy, shall we say). As we waited for the groom to appear before the ceremony for the Bideken (to veil the bride), 2 guitarists played and a drummer thumped and we all sang along. The groom approached and took a guitar and sang (while weeping, with his eyes closed) the brides' favorite piyut/religious poem.

I sound cynical but I have to tell you that as I think back on the evening, what I'm reminded by is the enjoyment and meaning of the event to the participants. For me, it was so far removed from the New York Jewish Wedding - translation, fancy dress for all, fancy caterer and fancy price, top drawer band, photographer/video, fancy wedding hall/shul/other fab venue...meaning, big bucks meted out.

The bride and groom, if one knows them are dedicated to a host of good works - from volunteering at a great place, Beit Hagalgalim where they befriend a young person in a wheel chair and do activities with them (there were about 10 young guests at the wedding in wheelchairs, having a great time) to other local good works. Nomi, is Tova's daughter and Tova exemplifies being dedicated to community, to people, to making people feel important. As a woman, I am welcomed on the women's side at SH by Tova herself most Shabbatot - with a hug and a kiss and a smile. This past Shabbat, I was there with Akiva which is always hard - Tova took the time to tell me how Akiva's noises/sounds/excitement are important to her and that she'll kill me if I dare to leave because I'm worried that someone is irritated by them. As a matter of fact, her mother Bobby took a moment to tell me the same sort of thing the night of the wedding, a few moments after the ceremony when I was trying to tell her mazal tov.

I degress but my point was that to the bride and groom what was important were the rituals of the day - sharing it with friends and family, experiencing it spiritually and emotionally and clearly making it an important moment to remember. (And let me tell you that they spent a long time in Yichud while friends hung outside waiting for them to come so that the dancing could begin). So, if you ask, how was the prime rib, I'll tell you that it was bagels and salads and not even a schnapps to drink. How great is that? Who remembers the food at weddings anyway and with so many mouths to feed, does it really matter? There were some hot dishes too but essentially it was a modest meal and although we laughed about it a bit, nobody cared.

Mazal tov was all we needed to say to each other - to the families and to ourselves.

Mother's Day

2009-05-10T22:41:00.002+03:00

Mother's Day today worldwide. Can't get into it too much in these parts but it was nice to consider that it was Jess's first Mother's Day. I always felt that Mother's/Father's Day never reverb'd for us too much as a family because Ira couldn't pay too much attention to it. This made sense - with both parents dead by the time he was 26, the day would have understandably lost its luster. As well, this focus on the day means that you have to badger your children to remember and honor the day since your husband shouldn't have to do it - you're not his mother, or whatever reasoning can be applied here.

So, imagine my surprise when in the middle of a marathon Skype session - first to friend, Jo in LA with her girls onhand to play with her hair and annoy her and then to Jo and Charlie in Merrick, NY, the boys appeared to chat on the computer and present me with a lovely homemade card. It reads 'here's to the most imitatable mommy out there.' Do you think they meant inimitable? I'll have to ask at some point.

Many teens onhand in the house over the past few days. Maybe that's the Mother's Day gift. To see your kids getting older and bringing their friends by who seem to like hanging by you, laying on your sofa (so that you are banished to the bedroom) and making lots of noise (that you get rid of by watching television or whatever you can do) and eating you out of house and home (but what's some pita and humus).

Happy Mother's Day to all of us out there.

Directorate

2009-05-06T23:32:00.002+03:00

Great meeting tonight with our Shutaf social worker, Binyamin Rose. First of all, he's a Brit (I know they hate been called that but...) and that means he has all sorts of charming turns of phrase like 'whilst' and 'shedloads' but that aside, he's smart, savvy and knows how to write a great evaluation.

The upshot, is that Binyamin thought we ran a good Pesach camp. We set out to professionalize and develop the program this year and we've met many of our goals. That said, there's work to be done and the question is how to do it, especially this year when we we're struggling just to come up with the funds to make camp happen.

That's the painful part - how to make camp happen when all we've received are rejections to our grant proposals this year. We know we're not doing anything wrong, just have fallen on hard times but it's not easy to feel that we can't really serve our population of kids if we don't have the funds. We're probably planning 2 weeks of camp at most this August and while I'll personally miss the 3rd week - what will I do with Akiva - it's probably for the best. We're already making hard decisions on what to cut from an already skinny budget - probably my fave, the food program - and how to make camp as good as we can make it without spending a lot. Mind you, it's not like we were spending a lot given that Miriam and I are still working as volunteers 2 years later.

So, dear readers, help me think about how to reach out to others and ask them all to help make Shutaf possible. Every bit helps, every bit matters - have a bake sale, do a stoop sale, save your quarters for Shutaf. Help us continue to help our community of children. Help us meet that special person that could really help fund the program - now.

I welcome all ideas. www.campshutaf.org.

Soldier Deaths

2009-04-30T14:39:00.002+03:00

We're watching the Tekes Yom Ha'zikaron - the ceremony for Memorial Day for soldiers and civilians killed - and Gabe asks, 'How many soldiers fall in the line of duty?' A squirmy moment for the mother of 16 year old - they both know he'll get his 'tzav giyus'/command to report next year around his 17th birthday.

We discuss that in Israel's 61 year history, their losses are about 10% of the population, comparable numbers in the US would mean 1 million losses within country. We analyze the old adage of more Israelis die in car accidents than in wars. That the numbers can even reflect someone killed in a car accident during his army service will be put on the lists. Is that the same as a combat death? This is all true but it's not exactly comforting to parents.

Gabe often worries that he's fit, strong, not scholastically inclined (meaning, Modi'in/Intelligence won't necessarily run after him) and that he's clearly headed towards a combat role when his time in the army come. I reasoned that his cousin Adam, who is a paratrooper, ended up taking a course to train other soldiers and by this means, wasn't involved in the recent combat in Gaza. That there are ways to avoid direct combat and still be in a combat unit. Truth is, I don't know enough about it anyway to really assure him of anything and as we see with Natan, the army here is a big machine and your kid is of course, one of many.

Look at Gilad Schalit? What are parents supposed to think about that one? We're just supposed to send our kids off and hope for the best. יהיה בסדר - It will be okay. It probably will be okay but every so often, it just isn't.

May their memories all be a blessing.

Soldier Boy

2009-04-26T22:56:00.003+03:00

He's happy, our soldier man-boy. He goes off to the base, comes home in general one night of the week and is generally around, eating us out of house and home on weekends. He says he has learned how to sleep anywhere (not that sleep was every really a problem) and tells me he can get in a bout 1.5 hours on the bus without a problem. (Natan describes his trip sort of like Uncle Charlie's trip to NYC from Merrick years ago. 3 buses - one in the bus, one to J'lem and one to our house. Charlie had a similiar sort of travel but he used to add the elevator in his building which was frustratingly slow and annoying.)

He advises newbies - a whole bunch of his local harem (he doesn't think of them quite this way but they tend to arrive en masse to pick him up on Shabbat afternoons) just went in during Pesach vacation and he spoke to a few, fielded a couple of phone calls and generally sounded the voice of calm experience. I mentioned to him how scared he was back in October and he said, 'Oh, I wasn't that scared really.' I said, 'You've forgotten.' He admitted this may be true.

Even I am an old hand. I saw a friend who's 2 girls went in recently (she has triplets) and she told me that the girls seemed okay but that she was a wreck. I inquired how long the basic training is for them - '3 weeks,' she said. I told her it will go by so fast they'll barely have time to register it. And thank goodness for it. Basic training isn't easy - emotionally, mostly - and it's good to on to a course, or a job or whatever.

Someone else asked Natan recently what his job is. When he told them that he's doing office work and some teaching English, the person said, 'Oh, what a shame.' I felt like throttling them. Could Natan have done some fancier job in intelligence or with computers or who knows what? Yea, maybe, had he gotten someone to help get him there when he was in the application process. But he's doing, he's serving and he's learning Hebrew, meeting different kinds of people and it's a good thing. There is nothing bad about it. At all.

He's upstairs tonight. Came home tonight because he offered to be in the office on Tuesday morning, Remembrance Day for soldiers killed in wars. He could have gone with Gabe to school, or shown up at Akiva's ceremony in his school and been Akiva's show and tell, or he could have shown up at another ceremony - soldiers are welcome everywhere on that day. Natan felt uncomfortable. He said to me, 'I'm not a combat soldier, I don't have the history that everyone else has....it's important to me but I'm okay being in the office.' I told him that I understood but that he should be proud of doing service to his country - to any country, to any cause. It's a good thing to be a service minded individual and that he's an important symbol to many here because of that. It's a big army - not everyone is a fighter. It takes admin and logistics and many other 'jobniks' to keep the army moving. Nothing to be ashamed of - nothing.

Holocaust Day

2009-04-25T20:42:00.002+03:00

A note that here, Holocaust Day is called - יום הזיכרון לשואה ולגבורה - Remembrance Day for the Holocaust and the Brave/Courageous/Mighty...you get the picture. It sounds better to me and it does make you think about all the Jews who didn't just walk their way into the gas chambers - who walks into the gas chambers really?
At the memorial ceremony held at Yad Vashem on Monday evening, 6 torches were lit but survivors. This year, the them was children who survived and their stories were, as always to us post-Holocaust generations, nothing short of unbelievable. The twins, who withstood Mengele's experiements - the pain, the agony - and who survived, along with their parents and made Aliyah as a family after the war. The Greek boy, now and older man living in Holon, who used every ounce or savvy to save himself and many others during the war. The children who were forced to live on their own at young, young ages - at Shabbat lunch this past week, our hostess, Yael, (wife of cousin Marc Rosenberg) told of a story of 2 children, ages 5 and 7, who survived by virtue of their preternatural adult-like skills. She looked across the room at her 4 year old son, busily playing with toys - a very, young boy indeed - and said she couldn't imagine her Aryeh on his own, fending for himself.
The day had its own drama with Durban II and the 'he who shall not be named' speaker. Israelis were up in arms about the speech - what was said and what wasn't said.
In Gemara class on Tuesday morning we studied B'rachot and it felt good to study - something pleasurable and important as Jews that was denied during many times of Jewish history to Jews. We studied, discussed and enjoyed - our own little bit of fighting back on a day of remembering not just destruction but acts of rebellion, battle and standing up for Jewish rights.

Oseh Ma'aseh B'reishit - Being Thankful for Creation

2009-04-08T15:22:00.003+03:00

I don't remember Birkat Hachamah the last time - the Blessing of the Sun, from 1981. A big of google work and I found that the date was April 11th, 1981. I sniffed around and was reminded that the Aids epidemic was felt to have begun in 1981, that Ronald Reagan and Pope John Paul were both shot and recovered and if you look on Wikipedia, you'll see an exhaustive listing of births (the Bush twins) and deaths (Hoagy Charmichael and Bobby Sands). Stuff happened.

Just to give you some background - From an article in the NYTimes: 'The calculation goes like this: God created the sun, the moon and the stars on Wednesday, the fourth day. A solar year is about 365 1/4 days, or about 52 weeks and 1 1/4 days. So each year since creation, the sun rises 1 1/4 days, or 30 hours, later. It takes 28 years for the sun to again hit the same position in the firmament at the same moment on the same day of the week.

Of course, it is not that simple. The astronomical computations, as well as the proper course of action in case the sun is obscured, are “subjects of great discussion, debate and analysis...Though the sun was created during the vernal equinox, a solar year is not precisely 365 1/4 days, but a few minutes less. Over many millennia, the time difference puts the solar calendar out of sync with the lunar Hebrew calendar; the actual vernal equinox occurred on March 20.'

Here's another good bit from an article from the Shalom Center:
'Why today? Because alongside the view that the Creation of the World occurred in Elul and Tishri, at Rosh Hashanah time, the Talmud preserves another view: that the Creation occurred in Nisan, the first of the months, in spring.

Evidently to the rabbis it felt particularly apppropriate that the birthday of the sun should be at the spring equinox, when the sun emerges from the womb of winter and crosses the Equator coming northward. The Torah teaches that the sun was created at the beginning of the fourth day -- Tuesday evening, to use our present labels. So the moment when the sun is again where it was at the beginning comes in a year when the equinox as the rabbis defined it comes on Tuesday evening in Nisan.

Then why are we celebrating today the eighth of April? Surely it is not the equinox! The rabbis' calculation of the length of the year was a few minutes off and in 2, 000 years that has added up to a few weeks.

And why only every twenty eight years? By assigning Tuesday evening as the moment, the rabbis made the moment hard to come by. For the year does not divide into four equal seasons of full days. There is a day and a¬quarter left over. So if the equinox comes on a Tuesday evening this year, it will come next year a day and a quarter later. It will take four years for it to come 'round to the evening again and then it will be five days away from Tuesday. Only after seven times four years will the moment come back to a Tuesday evening.

By working out this cycle of twenty eight years, the rabbis accomplished something else: by celebrating the sun only once a generation, they gave us a way to look ahead and look back that is worthy of the sun.'

I woke the big boys up early and we headed out to the Tayelet - the Promenade overlooking the Old City - with everyone else, yawning and wrapped up in our sweaters against the early morning air of 6AM. I had decided to meet up at the end of the Tayelet, past the usual stopping points, and join in the celebrations being hosted by the Navah Tehilah community known for their hippy, dippy, multi-faith approach. They didn't dissapoint. Drums, guitars, chanting and song - it seemed just the right thing for the morning. The sun rose in the distance, the Judean Desert shimmering in the early morning light, the morning sun beginning to strengthen and warm us up. We all stood and wondered where we'd be in another 28 years. I put on my sunglasses against the always strong glare of the sun in this part of the world. We could hear the chanting of thousands of people at the Kotel. Wild. Completely hokey but so appropriate in this part of the world where mythology has a habit of coming alive on a regular basis.

We picked up Ira and Akiva and shared some pre-Pesach bagel and coffee. The morning light felt especially good on us.

Moadim L'Simchah.

Pesach

2009-04-05T23:50:00.003+03:00

It's getting done - the cleaning, the dusting, the organizing, the whatever. Of course, one doesn't have to empty out every drawer and clean every closet, just the ones in food-related areas but it's hard to avoid that desire to just clean the whole house top to bottom.

We've been working in sections and bits and pieces. Natan came home a couple of nights last week to pitch in and Gabe's been making his way through various kitchen cabinets in between football and whatever. The menu is set, the tasks given out. Seder 09 is on it's way.

It's our first year for hosting since we've moved which is fun to consider. I for one, feel ready to return to a job that Ira and I did happily (most of the time) for most of our years in Bklyn. Once my parents made Aliyah in 1992, we were in Bklyn. One or 2 years in Merrick at Ira's brother but they mostly came to us along with Joanne's parents, usually on 1st night, and when Ralph and Lisa were in town we Seder'ed with them many times and also with Ron and Marion and Miriam Wasserman, Iris and Steve, etc, etc, etc. Sorry for the trip down memories of Seder's past.

I should add here that the reason we're extra relaxed this year is due to the debut of the new Ira. Some of you may remember the Old, New Ira - way back with George W Bush's first term. I think there was something said about the Kinder, Gentler America (I don't remember, it's soooo long ago and I like to forget that period of American History). Ira decided that he'd be the Kinder, Gentler Ira. No more sarcastic retorts, no more nasty NY humor - Ira went all nice on all of us. This lasted for a time and then was replaced by the regular Ira we all know and love.

Now we have the Zen Ira. Zen Ira goes to the shuk and is unperturbed by marauding shoppers. Zen Ira gets ready for Pesach in a laid back mode - hey, it'll all get done. Zen Ira is off playing baseball and singing in Oklahoma! rehearsals Erev hag. What me worry?

I'll keep you posted. Later note: A few days later and Zen Ira is rubbing off positively on everyone, including myself. Best moment was calling Ira yesterday from camp (we were closing up, organizing and putting things away and I was running very late and Akiva was unattended by his babysitter who had canceled and Ira was working) and instead of kvetching that he needed me at home (which he had every right to do), he Ohmmed....on the phone. Hilarious. I think this is all the Eastern influence of our favorite books of the moment - John Burdett's tales of the adventures of a Buddhist detective in Krung Thep, or for you Farang, Bangkok. He assures me he's not about to take up Yoga and wishes that people would stop recommending it (a flash of the Ira we know and love) but that so far this is working for him. He did have a weak moment today, Erev Hag, when the phone was ringing fast and furious between Jess, myself, Daniel, Natan and Ira - he snapped a bit at Daniel but it was brief.

Shopping in the shuk is mostly done. Bought some fun things this time - freshly ground rice flour (first you check the rice and then they grind it for you), also, freshly ground almond flour. A lovely assortment of coconut based and chocolate dipped macaroons. Spices of all sorts. Nuts and dried fruits. It's just so easy in this country at Pesach time, especially if you eat kitniyot/legumes, which we do, even Zen Ira has come over to the Dark Side.

And we have our new Guide to the Perplexed, www.kashrut.org, the work of Rabbi Abadi formerly of Lakewood, NJ, which seems like enough of a 'hechsher' for us. Take a look at his extremely and seemingly lenient take on much of the cleaning and craziness of Pesach. Hey, we can all learn new tricks and still have ourselves plenty of work to do - but maybe, just maybe be a bit less tired.

A Happy and Kosher Pesach to all.

The News

2009-01-09T15:08:00.002+02:00

We don't need to agree that the news stinks. It is rather fascinating to observe the difference in headlines. The Herald Tribune and Ha'aretz always differ in their approach to the news of the day, with the IHT usually referring to Hamas fighters as militants and Ha'aretz referring to them as terrorists. As for the Post, they take an even harder line as most of their op-eds and opinion pieces are overwhelmingly conservative. This is nothing new just extra interesting these days.

Best article read this week? This one, by Gideon Litchfield - describing exactly how I felt when the IDF hit the school in Gaza the other day, of course eerily reminiscent of the accidental hit in Kana in Southern Lebanon in 06. I also liked this excellent article by Natan Sharansky earlier this week in the Wall Street Journal but it doesn't admit to the overall problem of there's no winning in what we're doing down in Gaza.

There is no winning, you know. I don't want my neighbors in the South to live under the threat of fire. Our friend, Melina's parents live in Ashdod and needless to say it's been a scary time. They're Argentinean and have been here since 2001 or so. They live in a high-rise building and can't get to the shelter in time when the siren rings. The 'shelter' in the stairway and hope for the best. Melina tried to encourage them to come up to J'lem but they demurred saying they're okay, and they have things to do and they won't be run out of town. My friend Karyn's daughter Ayelet, who's trained as a Red Cross Technician spent a few days down in Ashkelon riding the ambulence and giving a break to overwhelmed workers in that area. Karyn just requested that she call in every few hours and her know that all was okay.

No way to live, right? But what about living under a blockade in the most densely populated place on earth with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nowhere to find shelter and very little in the way of fresh food, water, etc availble to you. It's tiresome to hear people say, 'well they voted in Hamas, what did they expect?' Who knows? I remain convinced that there are regular types of people who just want to live, buy their eggs, make a cake, have coffee in a cafe, go to work, send their kids out without worrying for their lives - all the things that I do. Again, I can't say why they don't think through what their lives have been about, how little their gov't has done for them, how their vaunted leadership puts them in the line of fire time after time. This is the part that is always strange and confusing to us here in Israel who assume that someone living in Gaza doesn't want what they've been forced into.

My breads are baked - oat/whole wheat sourdough and a whole wheat/rye foccacia. I will bring Shabbat in with Jess, Daniel and the babies as well as Mona and the kids. My children will be reasonably scrubbed and cleaned up, Natan will be in civilian clothes and I will hope for peace in the coming week. For myself and for my neighbors.

Separate Really?

2009-01-04T22:25:00.003+02:00

Today, Jess and I went to the big mall with the babies. I stood outside Golf kids - the stroller wouldn't fit inside - while Jess took care of an exchange. A family entered the store - Mom, Dad, 2 little boys immaculately dressed in cargo pants and sweaters, baby in snowsuit held in Dad's arms. Picture perfect, right? Arab family, as it just so happens. Lots of Arab families at the mall always.

Last week, I went on a 2-day trip with visiting cousins, Karen and Barbara (my Aunt Nora's 2 eldest). We spent a lovely early evening at Hamat Gader, the natural hot springs Southeast of Tiberias. The water was steamy, the evening air crisp and the pools were filled with people of all ages and all nationalities - yes, there were Arabs there too.

Stop in at any hospital locally, and watch how Jews and Arabs mix. Nurses, doctors, support staff, families, patients - hospitals are an unusual oasis of 'getting along.'

Ramat Rachel, where I work out is a stone's throw from Tzur Bacher. Many Arab families join and use the pool and workout room. When the bombing first started last Saturday, I stopped to watch the news on my way out Saturday night. I stood with a few of the Arab workers at the pool and we all watched the news and the headlines regarding the rising death count. As I left the pool, the Muezzin was screaming - or so it seemed to me - and it didn't sound like prayers, it sounded much stronger. Turns out it was the sounds of demonstrations in the street.

It's such a small country here. Borders so close to each other. Not enough room to breathe and find a way to living together. And yet, on Thursday, when I stopped in both Acco to walk around the Old City (in the hopes of some good humus as well) and when we finally ate our humus in the Druze town of Kfar Yasif (which felt quite Arab to me), I wondered at our ability to 'live' together and yet not be able to make peace together.

Bread is the staff of life

2008-12-10T21:31:00.004+02:00

Life is like a loaf of bread. Various ingredients - some development, maturation, even fermentation and then on a good day...an aromatic crusty loaf of bread. We have a new breadmaker and suddenly I've discovered the joys of making bread. I hear some of the purists groan. Yes, it is not hard to bake bread. Yes, I could do it all by hand. But that is not the point. What is nice about the breadmaker is that one dumps in their ingredients and pushes a few buttons and a few hours later, you have bread. Truth is, I often use the dough cycle which means that about 90 minutes later, one removes said proofed and partly risen dough, give it a quick punch and fold, set it up in a nice loaf pan for a short rise and then bake it conventionally for a much nicer crust and shape. As well, now that I've been using Iris Katzner's famous sourdough starter - specially imported in for me - I let the dough have a loooong and slow rise, sometimes overnight and then bake it for a richly flavored, sour and crusty loaf. So, that's not so terrible really.

But you all know me well. Would I, Beth Steinberg be happy with just bread? Of course not. I am only happy with experimentation, fiddling, replacing ingredients, introducing new and different ingredients. You get the picture. In short, the breadmaker has just enabled the experience and made it more fun and demystified the process just a bit. And for Gabe and Natan and Ira, it's quite pleasurable to just dump in the ingredients and make bread. I asked my friend Miriam for her basic bread recipe and was shocked to discover that she uses the same recipe over and over and just adds in different flavoring agents - herbs and whatnot. Don't get me wrong, she makes good bread, I just couldn't wrap my head around one recipe. Then again, that's the secret of bread of course, simple ingredients, a few hours and magic, a loaf of bread.

Back to my original point though. Breadmaking is life distilled through the simple veil of flour, water and salt. You don't even need the yeast as you can make a naturally risen bread from those ingredients. Things like oil, eggs, sweetener, herbs and other fun addins are beside the point and quite unecessary, perhaps even muck up what makes bread perfect.

I figure that Gabe and Natan are midway through their fermentation and Akiva hasn't quite finished with his 'sponge' stage. As for Ira and I, we're well into the 'sourdough' moment, which hopefully will continue to bubble along quite nicely.

Natan and the IDF

2008-12-08T19:59:00.002+02:00

I don't even need to report on Natan as he's begun to do his own reporting. Check out his blog at natanidf.blogspot.com. As would be expected, he's long-winded like his mother, dryly acerbic like his father (nobody can be as sarcastic and nasty as Ira) and anally attentive to detail which is a particular quirk of Natan's.

He looks to have been taken into a unit with the interest in using him for his English skills. This would be a smart move but remains to be seen if the army will act smartly. We've been warmed by the range of interviews they've sent him on and the sense that they've gotten that they should use him for more than stamping papers but we just don't know yet and there's a definite sense that he's gotten from his various interviews that if his Hebrew was just a bit stronger it would all be easier. This is not a surprise of course and Natan had been fairly unwilling to work on his Hebrew the past year for sure so maybe now he'll see the worth in improving not just his spoken but his written and reading skills.

It's bizarre to see him trot off in green the past 2 weeks. Each morning he gets up when he should, gets himself ready and leaves for whatever the day's adventure holds - mostly waiting, waiting and waiting. He comes home in a fairly good mood, although understandably bored and cranky at times. But he changes into civilian garb, has a good meal, yakks on the phone, writes notes on the computer, goes out if he can to Yoeman rehearsal, and seems fairly well-adjusted despite the uncertainty. Who would have thunk it?

I've told him for some time that I thought that the army would help him define his place here in Israel. I continue to think that's true although he could still end up in the US for school and work - I would almost anticipate that happening but then again, who knows? School is a lot cheaper here and much of the textbook work is in English so many Anglos do manage school here. But we don't have to worry about that for some time, no?

After Mumbai, Natan and I discussed the whole futility of man, the world, violence against each other, etc. I wondered how I can continue to feel like a pacifist when I know that most people feel that armies and fighting are worthwhile and important. All I know is when I read the newspaper - yes, when I read Gideon Levy in Ha'aretz - whether or not the story is stretched or troubled or problematic, every time I read about some soldier who did the 'wrong thing' or the non-ethical thing, or the thing that we know that they shouldn't do, I'm reminded that they're most likely some 18-20 year old guy who's not enjoying himself and is likely to feel scared and inclined to shoot first and ask questions later. Is that what we want to teach our kids to do? I'm deeply relieved that it's not Natan out there by Hebron, or in Gaza but that doesn't change the fact that some other kid is there doing that work that I'm glad he's not doing. I'm rambling here but you get the existential picture.

Mumbai reverberation

2008-12-08T15:35:00.003+02:00

Last week, Melina, Akiva's wonderful sitter/friend as well as Shutaf's educational supervisor came in the house without her usual sunny expression. Melina is always happy - she has the sunniest disposition and really understands how to spread that feeling to people around her. It doesn't hurt that she's just lovely to look at as well and has that joie de vivre/warm blooded nature of someone who grew up in a sunny climate ( Buenos Aires - despite economic collapse and anti-semitism).

This was right after the Mumbai event - I'm thinking of the Hebrew word used for event, אירוע, which is used for anything from an evening wedding to a bombing. Sort of strange, no? We all were feeling somewhat blindsided by what had happened, even though I often feel that I'm inured to bombings in that part of the world - I feel pained but not surprised when I read of them in the newspaper. Melina told me that where she works - a home/school for kids with significant disabilities, many whom will not survive childhood - housed the Holtzberg children, sons of Rivki and Rabbi Gabi, killed in the Chabad house last week. Their older son, died of Taysachs a couple of years ago and they have another child who's at the end of his life, also Taysachs, and now there's little Moishe, not to mention that Rivki was 6 mos pregnant when she was murdered. Melina said she had met both of them - they usually traveled in on their own to visit their son and she'd played with Moishe on a recent visit with his mother to the school. Melina said that both parents were lovely - young, of course, 'younger than me,' Melina mused, and that the school staff enjoyed spoiling Moishe on his visits - he was of course, healthy and both parents must have enjoyed that in ways that none of us can imagine.

And now, they're dead. It's just so depressing and sad. And as always in this small country, as Yehuda Amichai put it best of all, the 'diameter of the bomb' is very small, unexpectedly close, unbearably so.

Mumbai

2008-11-30T15:07:00.002+02:00

Just read this on Janglo - local listserv that sells, tells and connects Eng speaking locals. Sort of gives you an eye in to the thoughts of those 'tzivos hashem' or messengers of g-d as the Rebbe liked to call his followers. I know that I read in the paper that the post held by the young couple murdered a few days ago, has already been filled by another Chabadnik shaliach. I like this Rabbi's message who reminds us to honor the memory of the Holzberg's with an act of kindness as they were known for in Mumbai to the Jewish travelers, old and young, together and messed up, who ended up at their center and knew they'd be helped - without question, without judgement. Gotta admire that kind of teaching.
May their memories be a blessing.

Posted by: "rabbi@jerusalemchabad.com" rabbi@jerusalemchabad.com

Sat Nov 29, 2008 11:11 pm (PST)

Dear Friends,

We once again find ourselves facing a terrible tragedy.

Our hearts go out to the families of all those people, created in G-d's image, who were murdered and wounded by those who have rejected all semblance of humanity and descended far below the level of the most vicious beast.

Within our own extended Chabad family, after three days of dread and tension, waiting for news, we learned of the fate of the many hostages killed in the Chabad House in Mumbai, India.

The young couple Rabbi Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg o.b.m. travelled far from their parents’ homes in Israel and Crown Heights. They journeyed to Mumbai not for themselves, but for the sake of others. They came to create a home and center of Jewish life for those Jews who live in, or travel to this corner of the world.

Running a Chabad House anywhere is a difficult task for any young rabbi and wife, but especially so in a place like India, far from every Jewish community. It is difficult to find kosher food, basic necessities of Jewish life, essentials that a young Chassidic couple needs. Nevertheless, they went to India, and managed to build a center and a community for Jewish life there.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe's words, relentlessly positive vision, and his personal example of leadership expressed in a selfless 24/7 dedication to the needs of the Jewish people's and the needs of many beyond the Jewish community - is what inspired these young people and gave them the strength to undertake the demanding task they devoted their lives to.

When events like this happen, we have no way of understanding G-d's thinking or plan. One thing we do need to learn from this is to fight evil, darkness and hatred with good, light and love

On this forum, there are good friends of mine from many backgrounds. To all whom I know: please do an extra act of goodness and kindness to help replace the myriad acts of good and that the Holtzbergs would have done had their lives not been cut so short.

To my fellow Jews on this forum, let us please strengthen our observance of the three pillars of Judaism - Torah, prayer and acts of kindness such as charity.

Suggestions: Each Friday before sundown, all women and girls should make an effort to light Shabbat candles. The power of those candles will light up our lives and hopes and our future.

Men should make an effort to accept the mitzvah of Tefillin. The Talmud teaches us that one of the special qualities of Tefillin is that it creates an awe of us in our enemies by demonstrating that G-d's power rests upon us.

At a time like this, we should also make sure that we have kosher mezuzot on all our doors, both at home and in our workplace. To have your mezuzot checked or to purchase new mezuzot you can be in contact with me.

When G-d sees the Jewish people and indeed - all decent, caring human beings, of all backgrounds translating this tragedy into an increase in spirituality, holiness and observance, we pray He will grant us protection, health, happiness and the era of ultimate redemption, when in the holy words of the Prophets Isaiah and Micah: "Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, nor shall they learn war any more".

May we only share good news from now on.

Shavuah tov,

Rabbi Aaron Hurwitz
052 564 6633

PS In the news I heard just after Shabbos from Mumbai, it appears that the levayas will take place Monday. I will post info as I get it.

Notes from the Front

2008-11-05T09:01:00.005+02:00

Natan has been inducted into the IDF. Actually, he's in basic training, I'm not sure the induction is official until after they've mustered him into shape for a few weeks.

Day One - Oct 22nd. We deliver Natan to Givat Hatachmoshet/Ammunition Hill in French Hill. After checking in and shouldering heavy backpack laden with all sorts of things from freshly baked cookies from local female friend to toiletries and stuff that seems critical to sustain life (i.e. copy of Anne of Avonlea, retainer - thank you Joy Hudecz, notebook to note experiences), we're told that Natan is missing some of his 'mismachim rifu'im'/doctor related papers. We know this because the holidays made it hard to get this kind of stuff done. Nobody was around, nobody was covering. Do not get sick during the holidays if at all possible.

We take Natan to the Induction Office in J'lem. He waits inside while we wait outside wondering what's next. He sees the Head Doctor. She shuffles through his papers, musing over his most recent asthma test which wasn't as great as the one's previously. She doesn't know what to do and the doctor who saw him (this was the 3rd doctor but who's counting) is away until the end of the month. She comments that it's not his fault that nobody's been around and after a few more head-scratching moments, says, 'okay, we'll lower the profile.' It's been a long haul of trying to work this all out and have Natan be at the 64 level based on vision and asthma issues. Now, he's a 'jobnik' with no 'kravi'/combat status. More jobs that might be of interest to him and that would offer better ways for the army to use Natan (in my opinion) are now open to him. Question is, can he get to them this late in the game? Don't know. May not know until after basic training. One huge step for us though.

Texts from Natan
1. Processing...bounced around some offices. Waiting to hear what I have to do. Told them that doctor is away, etc. Seems like I'm seeing head doctor, where are you?

We hug him again and leave him there for the next part of his journey, the trip to Tel Ha'shomer and 'Bakum'/בסיס קליטה ומיון. Natan later reported that he was escorted by an army guy, along with some other strays such as himself to Bakum and I'll leave him to one day tell the story of his walk through the various stations - you stop here, go there, get x-rayed here, sized up there. Arlo Guthrie puts it best...'you walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected, infected, neglected and selected.'

Some text messages from the day:
1. Moving through. At vaccinations. (Yes, yes, they shot him up. Let's not talk about it).
2. Ok, so I think I have 3 weeks in some course for olim and THEN basic training. I'll be in touch, phone off. (This order ended up being changed by the next 'קצין מיון'/Interview Officer that Natan saw who decided that his Hebrew was fine enough for him to go straight on to basic training.)
3. Done being processed. Wearing uniform. Waiting for something. I think a bus to a base. (In the end, he came home that night - the 2 lower indoor pics of him - and went back and finished processing on Thursday, came home again and hung around the house through Shabbat and went officially back in on Sunday.)
From Thursday, Day #2 at Bakum.
1. Been waiting all day, ugh.
2. Waiting for bus.
3. Still waiting for **** bus. (The life of a soldier.)

Sunday AM, he hauled himself out of bed early and nervously left the house. He met up with this nice Argentinean guy whom he had met the previous week at Bakum and they traveled together back to Bakum. Natan would otherwise still be lost looking for where he's going. He joined a group of guys at Bakum - 'פלוגת ממתינים,' translation, 'waiting group' and waited for some hourse (we're told this is normal for Bakum) until being put on a bus to his new base, Nitzanim, down near Ashkelon, right near the beach - one of our favorites, site of a lovely campfire and potato roast that Akiva still speaks of fondly, last fall.

Text Message.
1. Yes, but I won't need it. (In response to Ira's query if he had $. You ride for free in green in these parts.)
2. Haven't gone anywhere yet. Waiting.
3. Done waiting. On bus to Nitzanim. Phone off. Love you.

We continued to hear from him in bits and pieces over the week when he had a minute and permission to use the phone. He was kvetchy at the beginning of the week - the weather had turned cold and rainy and life in the tent was somewhat damp, to say the least. Natan is not in the 'asthmatics tent' as he said that it's too close to the smoking area and that wouldn't be fun. He does have a 'פטור/exemption from certain physical activities. He can be made to run around stupidly but not too quickly. They all stand very long periods of time in various formations, the favorite being in the shape of the letter 'ח'/U shape. He received his gun - no, Robert Henoch told us it's not a gun, it's a weapon or an M16. Regardless, it's just too big and too much 'gun' for me. He's had some firing practice which remarkably he's been good at. Thank you to Iris and Steve and target practice up in the country.

We find out he's not coming home for his first Shabbat. A blow. Friday at 10:40AM, he calls. He's allowed visitors today. Not sure when. He thinks in the afternoon. 'Natan,' we say gently, 'Shabbat starts in the afteroon.' He'll find out. He calls back and tells us that he's allowed visitors on Friday because we can't come on Shabbat - never mind the 1.25 hours it takes to drive back and forth and making Shabbat. The army isn't so mindful of these matters. Then it turns out he has guard duty from 12-2pm. That means about 30 minutes with him after 2. We run out and do our errands in record time. Buy food for the soldier - bagels (we are Americans after all, can't just buy bourekas), spreads, fruit, cookies (no time to home bake something). Cancel my Friday night Kabbalat Shabbat davening gig at Shira Hadasha. Leave Gabe in charge of Friday afternoon prep, Akiva and setting up shul (his week to do so). Drive to Ashkelon with Ira. A lovely drive starting with the West Bank Tunnels and out through Beitar Ilit but then back through the roadblock and past Tzur Hadassah and down through the Lachish valley, past the Beit Guvrin Caves and further, heading towards Kiryat Gat. We call Michael and get the most up-to-date directions - the fastest and most direct method. We cross over various roads and eventually approach the beach, passing a new community for evacuees from Gush Katif communities in 2007 - many still living in temporary communities. We find the base and park. Inquire how to enter - we can't. Must wait for our guy to come and get us. Our guy doesn't answer his phone. We wait in the shockingly delightful non-Jerusalem heat. We drink our water, chew our fingernails and read The New Yorker. Finally, he calls. He was delayed. We're escorted in to the 'פינת ביקור'/visiting area. We wait. Suddenly, we see him trotting towards us. Huzzah!
We hug - ah....sit and eat, laugh, take a few pics (the images outside) as he regales us with stories and tells us what the yells that we hear in the background are essentially all variations on Yessir/כן, המפקד!

Much like visiting someone in camp, within a short amount of time the visitee is done - ready to return to their life on the inside and you the outsider go wistfully away. In our case, we rushed home at a breakneak pace, making it home...barely.

As for observance in the army. It's a good thing. Allowed 45 min davening time in the AM, which all say is good for charging your phone in the shul building - no plugs in tent - and dozing off during ישתבח. Then there's the moments you get pulled into מנחה - Natan said everyone was a higher rank than he.

Natan's report on Shabbat.
5. Shabbat was nice. Going up north tomorrow. Will be in touch. (Gosh, we think, a trip. You always see recruits out and about, especially on Sundays which appears to be travel day. A little treat after being on the base during the weekend, Benjy tell us. Also, they do try to make Shabbat restful, with more pleasant meals, time for shul and a bit of rest time in between guard duties. No standing in formation.)
6. So, after being a guy who couldn't move his legs, I'm not lying on a stretcher in the middle of a hospital tent. Some targil/exercise up here. (Turns out Natan is part of a huge military exercise and being the raw newbie that he is, as well as being a good size, he's immediately useful as faux injured person. He claims that Gabe Ashkenazi, the רמתכ"ל/head of the army is there but hasn't seen him yet. He asks around for his coz Adam, as he sees lots of Tzanchanim/Paratroopers but nobody knows Adam. Then he remembers that if they're in basic training like him, they may not know the name of their מפקד - 'he who must not be named.')
7. Was just taken in helicopter. Really cool. ttyl. (Wow! Definitely fun.)

Haven't heard from him since but texted him about the election. He at least had moved on from his initial Libertarian stance and support of Ron Paul.

There you have it. Natan in the army. He'll be home this week. Let the cooking and laundry begin.

A New President

2008-11-05T07:46:00.002+02:00

It's unbelievable. It's really unbelievable. Whether or not you're sure about your vote, sure about the world, sure about the economy or the war, or the future of the world in general, it was a thilling election. Even if your guy didn't win, there was something infectious going on - a feeling that everyone was excited to vote, perhaps for the first time in their lives. Ira and I watched the early return reports until some time after 12AM, with Gabe snoring next to us and then we woke up again at 3AM to check in (this with FOX News as our cable network doesn't currently have CNN) and as narcolepsy took over, waited until the alarm went off at 6AM to watch again.

I've never experienced an election from afar but then again, I've never campaigned or done anything to connect into the candidate during the course of the campaign. My first election was 1980 - Reagan, Carter, Anderson and I was so disheartened, I ended up not voting. That wasn't the answer though and I promised myself that I would never miss an election again. That I would cast my vote regardless of whether or not I loved the candidate or not - I would choose and exercise my right to vote, something that not everybody in the world enjoys. This time, despite the fear that absentee ballots wouldn't be counted or that the votes wouldn't get to the right place, I voted. Ira actually dropped off our ballots (Natan's first election!) at the OU the other night. They were having an election event where you could bring your ballots in and know they'd be shipped back to the US together - that seemed a good idea from a place where the mails aren't always perfect.

For me, 2000 and 2004 were not happy elections. That feeling that we, the voters, had been 'had,' wasn't an easy one. That sense that the president had no real feeling for many of the 'rank and file,' wasn't an easy one to shake. He (he should live and be well) seemed to live in some kind of bubble of financial security, emotional distance, family protection and governing doctrine that I never could connect to or understand and appreciate. Maybe there was no way to win in the age of 9/11, Iraq, Afghanistan and the current climate of economic uncertainty. I'm not even sure that our new president will be able to govern as well as he'd like and move forward with new ideas that he set forth during his campaign when he is inheriting so many issues that will not go away easily. Indeed, we need to see his resolve with these basics - Iraq, Afghanistan, the deficit - before we can watch him move forward and set his goals on the Middle East, the US's relationship with the world at large, Universal health care and other important domestic issues.

But here's the thing. It's a great thing to have the US's first African American president. It's a great thing to feel that he's won with good numbers, a large turnout and a wave of emotion and good feelings that will surely help in this early period of adjusting to what's happened (for those who feel disenfranchised and disappointed by his win). Barack HUSSEIN Obama - I love saying that as here, in Israel, that makes people squirm...our new president. Mazal tov to us all. People are downright strange and scary about his election here. There is such fear that he represents an end of the good relationship and the good will of the US to Israel. Here's a good example of some of the rhetoric on this side of the pond and note, I will not quote from resident crazy, Caroline Glick of the J'lem Post who surely must not sleep at night for fear of Iran nukes. One local friend essentially agreed with her recent article that Iran will look to test Obama right away via some action against Israel. I don't know if it's useful to think this way - maybe I'm stupid, maybe I'm naive, I just can't live my life this way, certainly not here, in Israel.

Another piece that got my attention printed via a Facebook Friend who voted for the other guy. It's actually an interesting piece in terms of the writer's history but the conclusions he draws are, at least I think so, unfortunate.

Barack H. Obama and Fidel Castro. What is the difference between the two?
Want Change? (From Richmond Times-Dispatch, Monday, July 7, 2008)

Dear Editor, Times-Dispatch:

Each year I get to celebrate Independence Day twice. On June 30, I celebrate MY independence day and on July 4th, I celebrate America's.

This year is special, because it marks the 40th anniversary of my independence. On June 30, 1968, I escaped Communist Cuba and a few months later, I was in the U.S. to stay. That I happened to arrive in Richmond on Thanksgiving Day is just part of the story, but I digress.

I've thought a lot about the anniversary this year. The election year rhetoric has made me think a lot about Cuba and what transpired there.

In the late 1950s most Cubans thought Cuba needed a change, and they were right. So when a young leader came along, every Cuban was at least receptive.

When the young leader spoke eloquently and passionately and denounced the old system, the press fell in love with him. They never questioned who his friends were or what he really believed in..

When he said he would help the farmers and the poor and bring free medical care and education to all, everyone followed.

When he said he would bring justice and equality to all, everyone said, 'Praise the Lord!' And when the young leader said, "I will be for change and I'll bring you change," everyone yelled, "Viva Fidel!"

But nobody asked about the change, so by the time the executioner's guns went silent the people's guns had been taken away. By the time everyone was equal, they were equally poor, hungry, and oppressed.

By the time the press noticed, it was too late, because they were now working for him. By the time the change was finally implemented, Cuba had been knocked down a couple of notches to Third-World status.

By the time the change was over, more than a million people had taken to boats, rafts and inner tubes. You can call those who made it ashore anywhere else in the world the most fortunate Cubans. And now I'm back to the beginning of my story.

Luckily, we would never in America fall for a young leader who promised change without asking, WHAT change? How will you carry it out? What will it cost America? Would we?

Manuel Alvarez, Jr.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

^^^^^^^^^^
FIDEL CASTRO & OBAMA

All I wish to express, as a former Cuban exile, is that Barack Obama and Fidel Castro share many personality traits, ie:

Both were abandoned by their fathers at an early age.

Both are charming, eloquent lawyers that say exactly what people want to hear at the right time and place.

One never led the nation to suspect he was a communist at heart, the other doesn't mention the word socialism when in reality this is exactly what his agenda stands for.

Both were virtually unknown until they began to use the word 'change' as their main political motto.

Both have egos as tall as the twin towers, yet they manage to present themselves humbly, one in soiled military fatigues and the other sweating and with an undone tie.

Both have the unique ability to distort truth and lies as if they were the same.

Both have the ability to hypnotize the ignorant and fool the wishful thinker and to divide a nation in classes, (divide and you shall win) In Fidel's case he divided the rich against the poor, the illiterate against the educated and the black against the white. In Obama's case even if by omission, he's de-facto dividing the races already.

And lastly I'll use the words of Jorge Santayana to finish my case in point: 'Those who can't remember the past are condemned to repeat it.'

And in the words of Sir Winston Churchill: 'The inherent vice of Capitalism is the unequal distribution of blessings, the inherent vice of Socialism is the equal distribution of misery.'

GOD SAVE AMERICA!

Signed: Andrew J. Rodriguez, Author of 'Adios, Havana,' a memoir

By comparison, read this good piece by Donniel Hartman, son of Rabbi David Hartman and co-Director of the Shalom Hartman Institute. Perhaps this, with less fear and loathing, explains the hopes and fears for the next president.

Enough for now.
I'm happy. Hopefully some of you out there are too.
Here's to a new and different tomorrow.

And baby makes?

2008-10-29T14:02:00.007+02:00

The babies are born as most of you know. Jess had her twins Erev Sukkot - 34.5 weeks, by section, because of concern over the smaller one. Bigger guy, who we're convinced will be eclipsed in size by Littler guy, who's being fattened up in the NICU like a goose (he's fed every 2 hours, mostly thru a GTube/'zonda' with a hookup for attaching a syringe with milk) came home after 10 days and the 'settle in' continues. It's not easy to have preemies - they don't really know what to do, or as Ellen Shaw put it, 'they're barely sentient at 40 weeks, let alone at 34 weeks.' So, there you have it.

I'm reminded that Akiva was himself quite 'par-boiled' at 40 weeks. Jessica is working hard at getting Bigger guy to nurse and settle in at home while getting milk up to Little guy in the hospital. I stop in, hold him and offer nursing advice, and try to promise her that life will improve - I remember what Mickey Green said to us after Akiva was born. Ira asked Mickey and Rob, 'when will we be normal?' This after finding out that Akiva had Down Syndrome - who knew what it would mean, how our lives would be, etc - and they said, 'you'll be normal...you'll be better than normal.'

And they have been right. Sometimes we think we're too normal. So too for Jess and Daniel who will surely struggle over the next year or so until they adapt to this enormous change. So too for Amira and Aiden, Daniel's girls, aged 17 and 11, who while excited will have to get used to having these small people around who will demand time and attention. But it's good and exciting and it will be a good adventure for all of them.

Ira and I've have been up to the hospital a few times now to hold Little guy in the evening. We both enjoy it tremendously. He's very alert and despite his smallness (currently weighing in at 1.55k) he seems feisty to us and determined to make it here in this world, crazy as it is. He should be home within another 2 weeks. While it's almost painful to think of him alone in the hospital for 3 weeks now, after having been next to his brother for 34.5, there is that other side of technology and it's seems almost certain that without it we might not be able to continue to enjoy him and watch him grow. Complicated for sure.

The two pictures of Little guy are from Sunday evening at the hospital and the pic of Akiva and Ira from Sunday afternoon - Akiva was home sick with a stomach bug and we all took an afternoon walk late in the day, Akiva leading the way. I apologize for no pic of Bigger guy but don't have a current one. Will remedy that. He's quite sweet and they look very much alike but it's amazing what another 2lbs does for you. Big guy weighs about 2.3k at the moment - not big but certainly more 'babylike' and his cry has gotten quite lusty. Little guy peeps more when he cries but that will change too.

Twins - sheesh.

Night Before

2008-10-21T20:18:00.002+02:00

Well, here I am at the computer. Yomtov has been over about 2.5 hours already, and you guys over there in the Diaspora are just sitting down to lunch and you still have another day and endless hours in shul left. Boggles the mind. I should add that I barely survived this final day, so tired I was of shul, cooking and eating. The good thing is that courtesy of our new grill, we grilled (Gabe grilled actually) a fast and easy meal last night of veggies and tofu which we ate in the sukkah, along with spreads and bread (ate the spreads out of the containers!). Today, lunch was courtesy of Bourekas Ima - lasagna and quiches and salad which were enjoyed along with Don & Judy, Michael and Miriam and Gabe's posse of Adin Ner-David and friend Hallel, visiting from Kibbutz Ketura for hag.

Akiva's in bed. Gabe's at the movies with the friends. Ira's at the pharmacy agonizing over the long list of toiletries, etc (but he wanted to go out) and Natan is out with the cousins. Natan is having the equivalent of a bachelor party, I'd say. He's having the pre-army sendoff, where the coz's will tell him what to do say, do, how to handle this, that and the other thing, in addition to advising him as to what he needs to pack - not very much, we're told, as they give you just about everything. Yes, tomorrow, we ship the boy off at 7:30am from Givat Ha'tachmoshet/Ammunition Hill. I'm told it's an organized and chilled sendoff and that the mood will be pleasant and not frenetic. I'm also told that it's a bit like sending a kid off to camp for the first time. I recall that first year at Ramah Berkshires and sitting on the bus nervously until Saul Finkelstein, bless him, took pity and befriended me. Of course, it was in English. I think that we're all ready for this - that is, we've known the date is coming and while we had hoped for a bit of a deferrment, we knew that it might be Oct 22nd. Part of me says, better off get it started then keep waiting for something so huge and unknown that waiting for so long would have been an agony. It's hard to know. I don't know if we were really prepared for this aspect of moving to Israel but is anyone? I guess it will be a seminal moment for all of us in terms of the experience of living here. Hopefully, it will be positive, even with the negatives, for Natan. He's still such a kid - every 18 year old is, right? He's a good boy, though, a very good boy and hopefully, they'll see his worth and he'll meet nice people and do worthwhile things.

On a lighter note, big boy comes home from the hospital tomorrow. He looks great, sort of like a glow-worm doll - little head with bright eyes and small 'swee pea' like body. Pip is doing nicely as well - weighted 1.25 today which is a nice jump for him and his color is good and overall he seems more chilled and no more lights for jaundice. Progress for all. Jess is recovering nicely and has ankles and toes again.

Wish us luck tomorrow!

Lists

2008-10-11T21:02:00.002+02:00

Ridiculous the amounts of list it takes to manage life this time of year. There's the To-do list for everyday life, the To-do list for Shutaf life, the To-do list for Akiva - doctor visits, toileting followup and the To-do list for Natan - army doctor appts, letters to write, hands to wring. Add to this the Shopping List for constant food replenishment for holiday/shabbat cooking. Just finished Shabbat and already have to think/plan lists for Monday night/Tuesday. Then, there's the visits to the Sukkah which mean meals with sister Sarah on Thursday night - we're thinking of finally firing up the new grill, and that's followed by Shabbat again, and then there's Sunday night with Jess & Daniel and my parents and then it's get ready for Simhat Torah!

This morning, after our usual wakeup call with Akiva at 5AM (he tends to wake up even earlier on Shabbat and days off), we laid in bed attempting to ignore him. At 7AM, I got up and went out for a run because I couldn't lay in bed anymore thinking about my lists. Then, I got dressed and went to shul on the early shift to Sharon and Nathan Laufer's son, Motti's BarM. Motti, is the charming youngest son of their brood of 4, the olders being triplets. It was a lovely service and everyone enjoyed hearing Motti leyn/read Torah and teach a new song to the crowd (in lieu of a speech). Even better, were the ice cream cones for Kiddush - Akiva and I shared one. It was crowded but we managed but I can't wait to get back to the ICCY, Shira Hadasha's roomier permanent home.

So, what are you guys eating over Yomtov? Any new ideas for me? Have to look at my cookbooks. Need some new inspiration. Have honored guests, Don and Judy arriving, in addition to local faces. Need to show off my new pressure cooker and my new stove. Will keep you posted.

Gemara Class and Yom Kippur Thoughts

2008-10-08T09:13:00.002+02:00

Since I'm on a roll, might as well go with it especially when I have things to say/write. You, my friends, know I always have something to say but making time to blog is a separate affair.

I take an excellent Gemara class on Tuesday mornings with Gilla Rosen, wife of Mickey Rosen, founder of the Yakar Center in J'lem (as well as London and more recently, Tel Aviv). Gilla is a known and respected scholar in her own right, one of a generation of women making waves in Orthodo circles - that is to say, unafraid to demand their right to learn and share that learning with others, mainly women. She's originally from the US - brother Jon traveled through Europe with her brother Charlie a billion years ago - but lived for many years in London before moving to Israel. Yakar was at the forefront of the spiritual, what many might call, Carlebach style approach to tefilla/prayer and well before Shira Hadasha was ever founded, provided a place where one could sing, daven and take their time with tefilla. I remember that when I would visit Israel, I would accompany Jess and even my father sometimes on a Friday night for Kabbalat Shabbat. My mother would groan because she knew Shabbat dinner would be a late affair on such evenings.

One of my favorite Gemara teachers of all time is Debra Reed Blank, who led a group of faithful followers in various study of Mishna and some other texts, many years ago at Kane Street. Debra (here's an article of hers about liturgy) had this great way of bringing the ancient texts to life with her straightforward approach to the translation and understanding of whatever it was the Rabbi's were discussing. It had been some years since I have had the chance to delve back in but I was recommended the class by local, Linda Gradstein and I started during a quiet time, when I even had chance to prepare each week, which I needed given that it had been years since I had engaged in such a serious class, taught in Hebrew, with experienced classmates. It's a nice group of women - all quite focused and some quite talented at Gemara study as well. I confess that I don't think I'm one of the talented ones but nonetheless, enjoy the 'pilpul.' Last year, we worked on the sixth chapter of B'rachot, studying all sorts of things related to tefilla/prayer. I even gave a little presentation (we all did) at the end of the year. It's been a good thing. This year, we're moving on to the 7th chaper, which we'll start addressing after the holidays. Up until then, we're looking at some stuff in Yomah related to Yom Kippur - fasting, making t'shuva/repentence, stuff like that.

We were discussing the call to saying prayers of Vidui - things like the 'Al Cheyt/I have sinned' or Ashamnu/that long list of all those things we've done/said/thought. Why are we called to say these thing - historical references like the sin of the golden calf. We looked at source material in the Torah - Vayikra - Acharei Mot - that refer to Vidui as something important, in addition to making the appropriate sacrifices for wrongdoing. I liked one section that discussed that your issues with G-d and repentence and forgiveness are different then what you need to do to be forgiven by friends for wrongdoing. I hereby ask forgiveness at the juncture from all my friends and family, near and far, for anything I may have done (and I'm sure I did) that upset or offended or hurt you in some way this past year. I hope to do better in the year(s) to come.

I got to thinking about Akiva and Ira and I this past year. We struggle these days, trying not to feel resentment at the daily drudgery - the endless trips to the bathroom to attempt to learn toileting, the cleanup and the laundry, the morning wakeups (now at 5:15AM since when you change the clocks, it just means an hour earlier), the endless pieces of bread to toast and lunches and 'elevenses' (10:00 break meal here) to prepare, and the knowledge that it ain't changing or ending anytime soon. I talked with my mother about this very topic today with regard to my father - the drudgery is different but the fatigue, petty humiliations and grief that feels is quite real with regard to his dementia. It's hard to make your peace and not get angry and yet, you always have to remind yourself, as we do with regard to Akiva, 'what's so bad about being retarded?' It's not his fault, indeed it's how the Creator determined whom he would be. It's not our fault that we get tired but we do him a disservice in needing/wanting him to be different and yet, how can we not? No good answer here but acceptence is the overall theme that we work at on a regular basis. But - I found it hard at 5:15 this morning, when he came downstairs all bright eyed and chipper and then again at 6:00 when he arrived again for a cuddle and then eventually, prepared him french toast at 7:15 (he's off today for erev YK). He's so easy to please - I'm the harder one to please, I guess, caught up more in the existential nature of life. So, on this erev YK, I ask Akiva's slicha u'mechila/forgiveness or as Barbara said to me on the phone today as only a Boro Pk/Flatbush girl could, 'do you mochel me?'

צום קל - An easy fast to all those fasting.

Duchening at the Wall

2008-10-06T17:42:00.003+02:00

Since I've been so remiss in blogging, I neglected to report about my seminal davening moment since arriving here. Our friends, Haviva and Jacob Ner-David, celebrated their 2nd child, Adin's BarM in late August. The Ner-David's are an idiosyncratic clan - they daven in many different places of varying practice and religious style. Haviva, who has an Orthodox ordination that is controversial to some, is also the author of a great book on women's issues, feminism and Orthodoxy. Jacob, a successful business guy and local venture capitalist, went to high school with Jessica (of course, there is the Jessica connection) back in the old country. They have 6 great kids and Gabe goes to school with many of them at the Democratic School. What makes both Jacob and Haviva even more interesting is their absolute devotion to the environment, co-existence projects locally and generally, things that are good for the world, both from a Jewish and non-religious perspective.

The BarM was at the Southern Wall, right by Robinson's Arch. For those of you who haven't been, think of it as the Kotel, extended. It's a great site, with wonderful historical high points, from the staircase that the Kohanim ascended to reach the Temple Mount to the ancient grafitti near the arch, which essentially says, 'we'll be back.' The area has been designated for the 'non-Orthodox' to have services without offending anyone. The BarM was called for 8am and as we arrived, we were pleased to note the varying areas of men and women. There was the men's area (loosely defined by an obvious group of guys but this grew to later include a mixed group nearby as well), the women's area, and in the middle mixed seating. Davening was led in an a somewhat central area - I should add that davening took a long time, as Haviva and Jacob are afficianados of the Leeder Minyan, which is known for it's looooong and spiritual services. It was Rosh Hodesh as well, meaning lots more to do before eating brunch.

I had been asked to lead Mussaf Rosh Hodesh and I was uptight. What would it be like to get up and lead Mussaf in this very mixed crowd? I worried about this for a while and then reminded myself that Haviva wouldn't have asked me without thinking through this matter and moreover, anybody who knows Jacob and Haviva and came today, might expect that leadership could be either men or women. Then, I realized that I'd be leading duchening/Kohanic blessing as well. This was a wild concept as I'd be doing it in Jerusalem, in mixed company, at the Wall! I must admit that even I, the cynical, 'oh it's just the kotel' was somewhat pleased. I had to rush my repetition as time was short, which was fine with me, but as I got to the blessings, I enjoyed the moment and the rush.

Pretty cool.

Shana Tova

2008-10-06T17:12:00.002+02:00

Fall came suddenly to these parts and there I found myself, deep in a pile of menus, recipe books, shopping lists and general 'things to do' before Rosh Hashana stuff. I determined to get myself in the mood and did - we shopped, cooked together (Moroccan veg stew with saffron, salads, spreads, desserts (these amazing, spicy, think Jacques Torres's spicy hot chocolate, Brownies), I really can't remember anymore, and ultimately enjoyed the 2 days of holidaying. We davened at Mayanot after weeks of agonizing over where to go. We actually agonized for so long over where to go - Beit Boyer (boring but delightfully Ashkenazic and great shofar blower), Shira Hadasha (long but spiritual but lousy shofar blower), or, Mayanot (small, not enthusiastic enough at times but egal, some decent shofar blowing and nice davening...most of the time). But I'm being unkind because Mayanot was nice - crowd was pleasantly filled out by 65 Nativnikim (one-year post HS USY program), and other locals. Davening was pleasant - Ira the first night, Daniel for Musaf day one, I read Torah day 2, Natan haftorah day 2, and other locals filling in the other parts doing a nice and spirited job of making the Tefila enjoyable.

Ira and I split Akiva duties, each of us coming late one day - in time for shofar blowing during Mussaf and some of Akiva's favorite local tunes. A funny moment Day 2 was had during Mussaf when the Ba'al Tefila, Aryeh, sang thru two choral pieces (Lewandowski, of course) and the community sang along in all parts. Laurie Yorr would have laughed, we all smiled, chuckled and did our part, albeit with imperfect timing but lots of gusto.

Ate meals with a nice mix of family - Jess and Daniel (he was home this year for the first time in forever - usually he has a high holiday pulpit job but with Jess due soon, he didn't go) and the girls, homeschooling family with lots of lovely boys, Mona and Robert, Blass family and 2 Nativnikim.

I missed Ray and I missed Rena and all the rest of youz.
Shana Tova.

Camp Report

2008-09-13T20:53:00.002+03:00

I have barely caught my breath after a very busy 6 weeks or so this summer. Finally dipped the toes back into the waters of teen theater with a workshop that ran for 3 weeks. It was satisfying but exhausting as I was pretty much the only one running the show although I had wonderful local visitors - actors, costume and makeup people, local directors and production people as well as local musical theater people. The kids got a real education, I think, except for Natan who is perhaps too much of a theater snob at this point. In truth, for him, the level wasn't quite there - after 5 years with the NYCHEA players, he's fairly comfortable with whatever you throw at him and can read it fluently (even if he doesn't know what it's about) and will jump into anything and at least try it. This crowd however, didn't have the reading fluency, even if they have the speaking fluency. That's the interesting complication. As well, in conservative Jerusalem, to read Beckett is odd to the kids and I found that there ability to take in more modern pieces was limited. David Ives worked for everyone, thankfully, and we had a lot of fun with our 2-day Stage Combat workshop which was given by two local people - one the director of a new and young Shakespearian company. All in all, an experience. We finished up with a quick and dirty presentation that was also problematic for some of my actors who like a fully finished piece with costumes, set, etc. I kept pointing out that staged reading is still and effective way to present new material that has not been fully learned and that it's an okay method - everyone knows that it's not a 'finished piece,' but that was still a hard sell.

Segued from STW to Shutaf right after Tisha'a Ba'av. Camp had started already on 8/11 but I didn't finish STW until the 18th so Miriam, my partner, was doing yoeman's work and it was work this season as we had 40 kids, 7 young adults with special needs (and some were quite involved in terms of needing facilitating) and lots of staff. Our staff felt overwhelmed at first at the multitude of issues - emotional and behavioral - as well as just adjusting in to the program, the heat and the day. We worked on the fly to solve problems and educate the staff as best as possible but it wasn't a slam dunk. Funny how having 34 kids for 6 days before Pesach was complicated but doable but once you have 40 kids and 3 weeks of camp, you're in that game of camp with all of it's warts and stuff and day to day support of staff even more than the kids in order to get the through the experience. We learned alot for the next camp which is fine.

There were many best things but one of the best things were our volunteers. There is nothing quite like the NRG of a 14/15 year old boy and we had a few teens, (one girl too) who came and worked hard and really enjoyed the challenge and look forward to returning to Shutaf for our next camp. That's pretty cool. We also had some other younger staffers this year as well as one retiree who joined us as a volunteer - all added to that feeling that we're building a community and not just a camp. Good karma.

Now, we move on to planning the fall. Once again, sweating the funds, trying to plan a fall fundraiser and trying to figure out how to make it happen for the next year. It's exhausting and very multi-dimensional work and I'd really just like a vacation.

Laughing

2008-07-03T23:23:00.002+03:00

Went to a movie premiere tonight - a benefit and the opening of a new short film about the comedy of Yisrael Campbell. A member of Shira Hadasha, I know him through Jess, of course, and often see him about the neighborhood. Check out his videos - make sure to catch the famous Hannukah candle riff. The good news for some of you is that he'll be in the US next year and I hereby recommend that Kane St book the film and Yisrael for the Film Festival next year. You won't regret it. What's cool is the way he talks about his life and his Jewish journey (he was born Chris Campbell in suburban Philly) and Israel.

I had been a long hard day that had started with the difficult read through of the newspaper following yesterday's 'drive by bulldozing' on Yaffo. Sarah called my mother today from camp - she'd heard in camp but in camp news feels a billion miles away and she just wasn't sure that she'd heard right, 'a bulldozer?' Ira's co-worker, Dave, said that actually the machine in question is a 'loader.' His expertise comes after years of study with his 2 young kids. The papers were filled with all the lurid details - the baby saved from the car. The young mother, unable to be rescued...crushed. Her baby, after years of IVF treatment, will grow up motherless. The 2 others, killed, the people on the bus and street who were injured. No names jumped for me but I'm still new here but when I went to the movie tonight, I was chatting with friend Esther Abramowitz (Jess's longtime buddy) and turns out she was at the funeral today of the gentleman killed - the father of a co-worker. She said it was intensely sad. The young mother? From a well-known local family and a few people had a connection to a cousin through Shira Hadasha. At moments like this, Jerusalem is a small town.

After the movie, we strolled down Emek Refaim - it was hopping with USY'ers and other kids, Israeli and American, engaging in mating rituals. We got a sorbet and walked back to the car, enjoying the cool night breeze. Life - continuing as it should.

Desert

2008-06-10T21:32:00.002+03:00

I remember that Mrs. Reimer or was it Mrs. Dinner who taught me that 'dessert' has 2 'ess's' like strawberry shortcake and desert has one.' I'll have to check with Karyn to see if she remembers. Went to the desert for a few days. It was my idea and Sarah had liked it for a family gig together for Shavuot. It fell out on a Sunday evening, which meant an easy day, much like Sunday in the US with time for a drive down and time to play before showing up where we were staying for the beginning of chag. I chose Kibbutz Ketura, which we enjoyed back in December during Hannukah time. Neither one of us worried too much that returning to the Arava in June might be a bit of an adventure in terms of the heat index - we figured it would be hot but didn't know how hot.

We were, according to one of the 'youngun's, a 'hamoula' or Bedouin clan. Reps from four families, in-laws as well, it was an impressive grouping.

'The Bedouins live in tribes, Qabila in Arabic, who are subdivided in half-tribes and further down till the economical viable unit of an extended family, called Hamoula. Although it does not seem so to many, in order to survive in this unforgiving environment, a lot of work needs to be done.'

Sister Sarah and co, minus Benjy who's in the US, brother Jon and co, minus Adam in the army but plus Itzik, Dena's fiance, sister Jess and co, parents (my father's 80th was Friday so the time together was to continue his birthday celebrations), Daniel's mother Rita, sister Miriam and co, minus one of their kids, and us, minus Natan (enjoying cheesecake chez Charlie and Jo in Merrick). 25 of us for the duration.

We beached together in Eilat on Sunday - bit of scuba diving off the shore and exciting fishies swimming around. We hung together in the brutal heat - 43c on Monday or about 110f although that sounds too ridiculous to even type. Suffice to say it was really hot. By 9am it was like an oven. Later in the day it was like you were walking with the oven door open in your face and a hot wind blowing back - Sarah said it was like the oven was on turbo. Then, a wind started to blow - a bit of a sandstorm - we retreated to the pool and sat there for some hours before going back to our mercifully a/c'd rooms.

I was reminded of a favorite book by Cynthia Rylant, 'The Relatives Came.' The book tells of the visit of the relatives - they come in their old station wagon, visit for weeks, hug, talk and eat. The best part is the arrival with the hugging that went on for hours and the sleeping the first night - wherever you could find a spot and that there was a lot of breathing in the house that was unfamiliar. I read it to Akiva tonight when we got home and I think he enjoyed looking at the pics and thinking about all those relatives at Ketura the past few days.

Today, on the way home, went with Sarah and Michael and kids along with Talia (J&B's youngest) and Adin Ner-David (Jacob and Haviva were also at Ketura for Shavuot) to Ein Bokek for a dip in the Dead Sea. It's such a wild place. Akiva was not too keen on the salt in his eyes but got in willingly at first. We bobbed around and compared areas of stinging pain and the weird sensation of the almost oily feeling water. Drove a bit further and took another dip and a walk in Ein Fescha - fresh water pools, oasis, huge cattails. It was hot but fun. A good day with Akiva as it included walking with the focus on water to keep him going.

Got home. A bit salty, a bit grubby, a bit tired but pleased with our journey.

Akiva

2008-06-01T00:37:00.002+03:00

Akiva and I had a funny walk to shul today. Leaving was not quite as painful as it sometimes can be. I gathered the important bits - change of clothing, critical books (Little Red Lighthouse, Frances, George), New Kane (his wrestling guy), water cup, tissues (the nose had been very runny) and an extra water bottle for me as it was a hot day. Hats on and Akiva with is glasses somewhat precariously perched on his nose, we set off for shul.

Akiva walked behind me most pleasantly much of the time. He sang his way through his repertoire of children's Hebrew songs that is building with each holiday period - courtesy of school and helped by his assorted holiday tapes which he listens to at home. In this country, there are an astounding assortment of songs specific to every holiday and everyone knows them since they grow up singing them in 'gan'/kindergarten. We newcomers are at a distinct disadvantage but such is life. He worked Lag Ba'omer, then Yom Yerushalayim which is this coming week, and then segued back into Pesach as we bumped into to a few local people whom we know on our walk. We rested on a bench at one point - Akiva likes benches - then continued on our way. It should be mentioned that the whole walk is about 10 minutes I think and is a real straightaway except for the occasional dodge around a building or up a bit of stairs in standard J'lem style. With Akiva the walk takes longer, especially the way home when one generally has to 'sing' him home. Ira took care of those duties today - I did not have the patience.

Shul was quite crowded today. A Shabbat Kalah - bride's Shabbat after the wedding. A Francophilic celebration, it was filled with French people yapping away in French, Hebrew and whatever other languages entered the conversation. A fleishig kiddush! The salads were pleasant and it was marked by a distinct lack of sweets on the table - a welcome change from the usual fare of bissli and other simple crunchy snacks with humus and veggies and store bought cookies. We ate minimalistically and enjoyed our own lunch at home once we had cooled off. Wondering what Natan is doing right now in Bklyn?
Shavua Tov to all.

Lag Ba'omer

2008-05-26T07:46:00.004+03:00

I always have blog thoughts. Usually, they are prompted by a story of Ira's, the kids, or something that happens to me during the course of the day/week here. Of course, without writing these profundities immediately down, they slip from my memory and I'm left yet again without a major topic about which to blog.

Thing is, I recognize that life has settled down in its way and aside from funny Israeli moments, of which there continue to be many - and always will, I imagine - things seem surprisingly normal. Natan continues to muscle his way through his adjustment here, coping with his developing life here - theater work, looking for a choir, piano, Japanese studies, friendships that are more comfortable this year...he even went willingly to a Lag Ba'omer bonfire this year. Lag Ba'omer is sort of like Guy Fawkes day, Israeli style, without the effigy. I'll let you read up on both on your own, except for this note on the celebrations.

"The most well-known custom of Lag Ba'Omer is the lighting of bonfires. Some say that as bar Yohai gave spiritual light to the world with the revelation of the Zohar, bonfires are lit to symbolize the impact of his teachings. It is also Jewish custom to light a candle in honour of the deceased on the day of the Yahrzeit. As his passing left such a 'light' behind, many candles and/or bonfires are lit. The Bnei Yissoschor cites another reason for the lighting of bonfires. On the day of his death Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai said "Now, it's my desire to reveal secrets...The day will not go to its place like any other, for this entire day stands within my domain..." Daylight was miraculously extended until Rabbi Shimon had completed his final teaching and passed away. This symbolized that all light is subservient to spiritual light, an particularly to the primeval light contained within the mystical teachings of the Torah. As such, the custom of lighting fires symbolizes this revelation of powerful light."

What this means is that bonfires are lit up all over town - many are unsupervised, many are built (towering effigies of wood stuffs found all over town) w/o a lot of knowledge of fire maintenance skills and many are not properly put out. The night of LagB, one goes to bed with the acrid smell of smoke filtering through the house - this year, we were lucky that a brisk breeze was blowing that night and into the next morning which helped dissipate the smoke.

Gabe wanted to go off to a friend's house. He was pleased to have his own plans and such plans are indicative of how nicely he's doing this year - he likes the Democratic School, has made some nice friends (haven't met them all yet) and spends much of his time practicing his skateboard techniques. At first, he tells me that his friend lives in Nataf (in the J'lem Hills), that it will be a 'bayit reyk' (no parents around) and boys and girls together. After informing him that I wasn't comfortable with the unsupervised bonfire as well as the opposite sex, it turned out that it was just a private party of 4 guys and a fire. He had fun but later told me that next year he wants a bigger, mixed local gig like Natan's. Natan's is down the block a bit in a vacant lot that is reserved some hours in advance by those expecting to use the space. It's a group of girls and guys and some younger sibs and the occasional parent as well. Foodstuffs are roasted and eaten, songs are sung and much chatting occurs. Ira walked Akiva over for the festivities and they sat and ate a hot dog (Ira, that is) and enjoyed themselves. Akiva must have been prepped at school because on the way, Ira mentioned going to a campfire - Akiva answered 'מדורה, אסור להתקרב, מאוד חם.'
'Campfire, you're forbidden to get close, very hot.' So, there we have it.

Natan had a further adventure though that night. He went off to his second event at around midnight - remember when you had second events or even first events beginning at around 11 or so? He met up with friends near a park area behind the German Colorny and for those in the know, the Hartman Institute. There, for the next 4-5 hours, they put out unattended bonfires. Natan said they'd come upon a group of people with a large fire and inquire as to their water source for minding such a blaze - they'd be shown a coke bottle, or worse, nothing. They put out a fire that the fire-makers had stoked with styrofoam and they put out fires that had burned down and the fire-makers had gone but nobody had made sure that the embers were totally out. Natan related arguing with fire-makers who'd left the area and upon returning and finding their fire out argued - 'we were coming right back...' He returned home at about 8:00am, smelly, wet and tired. Gabe we didn't see until much later Friday afternoon as he went straight from his friends house to a baseball game. He's pitching these days and very pleased about it. As for Akiva, he went to school and talked about his campfire, the marshmallows (he never had any) and whom he saw there.

Ira's comment about his campfire experience - 'it was clean, old-fashioned fun (aside from the smoke and mess) in an Israeli style that you just don't ever see in America.' Lisa Smith described her campfire the same way - very lovely, about 150 people or so who came through at different times according to the ages of their kids (she was at a joint Moreshet Avraham/Mayanot campfire).

I remember Lag Ba'omer from my childhood - a scheduled school picnic in Hempstead Lake State Park (in later years Woodmere Park). Usually, we were rained out and rescheduled. We'd run around - in pants, no less, in those early years - make a fire and roast marshmallows and have a grand time.

Fireworks

2008-05-07T23:01:00.002+03:00

One other note from tonight. Bedtime will be late because all I hear from my house are the sounds of fireworks all over the city. The Grucci brothers would love it.
Shul was fun. I sat with Jess, Sarah and my mother, who also came for the experience. As we forded the passage between remembering those who've died and celebrating the country, regardless of the complications implicit, the place just started to rock - singing, dancing, bouncing and jumping (Shira Hadasha has a couple of jumpers). 400 people perhaps, singing, ready to move on the happy part. Ready to sing - they're always ready to sing there. To celebrate Yom Ha'atzmaut - do hallel with musical instruments, pray the other elements of the Yom Ha'atz service - Shma and the other line from the end of Yom Kippur/Nielah, Shofar blowing and all. Pretty cool. I felt the feeling that I sometimes have here - that nobody had to be told how to do it, nobody needed to be given the page number, everyone was 'on the same page.' I know that seems unkind but it's how I felt. I felt that there was parity.
I never felt enough parity in Bklyn. I loved Bklyn and love my community but we were all so different in our viewpoints, religious desires and lives. Believe you me, there are plenty of differences in my views and my neighbors here but at least people know what to do and how to do it. I find that comforting - more than I would have expected.
Enough rambling. More to report tomorrow after we hopefully get to the flyby in Tel Aviv tomorrow. Boys claim to be excited. We'll see how it goes.

60th Bday

2008-05-07T22:42:00.002+03:00

Almost hard to believe and yet, sitting here in my house - complete with elements of comfort unheard of in the early years of the State (read kitchen with real stove, walk-in closet which I didn't even have in Bklyn, etc) it isn't hard to believe. Israel often feels like other places in the world - a place of consumerism, of navel-gazism, of divides of wealth, of gated-communitiesm, and other 'isms that I'd hope to leave behind in the USofA. Still, it is a small place and when the country mourns, it's surprisingly together and when they celebrate, you feel the mood change as if you're all sitting in the same stadium.
I can't say that it's an easy celebration. Regardless of how you look a the founding of Israel, ashes of the Holocaust, yadda yadda and I don't take the post war period lightly, the fact remains that it ain't 1945 tomorrow and that the ideals that were present in that period are different. Israel remains a country entrenched - at least for some - in the post-war period but there are many to whom that doesn't resonate. Where do they think the state appeared from I'm not sure but certainly not out of the remnants who were not gassed in Auschwitz. For Jews from Sephardic countries their Israel is a Messianic one - which they preyed and hoped for all those years in the Diaspora. Not that Ashkenazic Jews didn't think that way either but it was different and WWII gave a different shading to everything that came after.
How do you celebrate when so much seems screwed up and weird. When your country is either enmeshed in political scandals, one right after the other, or an existential fight for emotional survival. Ahmedinajad aside - whatever he's going to do, he'll do - Israel's survival seems much more an issue of people's emotions and their desire for a different kind of life. One where people's children don't have to go off to be trained as soldiers and one where the country could focus on peace and normal life. To me I wonder why we can't just turn this thing around - learn how to make peace, how to develop a new paradigm, a new way of doing the 'peace business' and maybe find a way to show our neighbors that we mean it. I'm so tired of reading of our soldiers misbehaving on guard - of being obnoxious and abusive of their power - of our citizens showing contempt for fellow citizens - Gabe had that experience waiting for felafel recently where the Arab guy was kept waiting and waiting and waiting...I'm not naive, I just don't like the facts on the table and feel that new tables and new facts are needed.
Happy 60th.

Family report

2008-04-07T07:58:00.003+03:00

You may wonder why my blogging has really dropped off. Fun gone out of my life? Israel no longer so fresh and new? Certainly, these are good possibilities. That is, we've settled in a bit here, much to our surprise, people are busy - Natan's in play #3 of this year, Tick, Tick, Boom!, where he plays Michael, aged 30, HIV positive (actually he announces it more like AIDS, but I informed Natan that he's probably alive today, unlike the protagonist, Jonathan Larson, the playwright, who while straight, died of an aortic aneurysm the night before Rent officially opened) and struggling to make his peace with having left the world of acting for the business world and ultimately financial success. The play isn't a perfect one, and the production is a simply produced one and not perfectly directed (it's a teen direction team) but the principals all work hard and in particular, the girlfriend has a great voice. For Natan, it's a real departure - a role of some maturity, with modern, pop music which he has worked hard to learn to sing as his general style is more classical, and real choreography done by a young, hip hip dancer named Marvin. This play is definitely more fun than Korzcak's Children, where he plays a Nazi lieutenant, albeit it a sympathetic one. That play, is not a bad one, and the guy who plays Janusz Korzcak is really great.

Then of course, there was the family participation in the recent Wizard of Oz - Ira as Wizard, Natan as Tree, Winkie and Emerald Citizen. That was fun for many reasons mostly having to do with Ira's return to the stage after 30 years, in what was a brilliant and somewhat typecast role (at least to his family). Imagine if you will, Ira in vest and tailcoat, pate shining in the spotlights pontificating about brains 'Why, anybody can have a brain. That's a very mediocre commodity.'
How about fear, 'Frightened? Child, you're talking to a man who's laughed in the face of death, sneered at doom, and chuckled at catastrophe... I was petrified.' And as his balloon floats away without Dorothy - 'I don't know how it works...' It should be added that Gabe and Natan also worked liked trojans backstage - it was a big production.

Gabe, the Hebrew speaking expert of the house, plays football on Sundays, baseball on Mondays, ping pong on Tuesdays (he's retiring from that, he tells me) and TURNS 15 on TUESDAY!!! This is too much for me to dwell on really and we're canceling his birthday this year. He's really enjoying the Democratic School although I assure you that not much educational is allowed to penetrate past his teenage brain. I hope that we'll have a breakthrough and I'm looking forward to sitting on his head when he 'homeschools' this summer. We'll see.

Akiva and I are just 'floating here in the pool.' Akiva continues to enjoy school and his afternoons of horseback riding, occasional trips to the pool (this will increase with the warmer weather) and park (right now it's perfect park season) and his animal chug/activity at Ramat Rachel, playing with the bunnies, feeding the ducks and the goat and sheep and other animals who live there. He's much taller for those of you who haven't seen him in a while and his Hebrew continues come along nicely. His horseback riding is fabulous - he's posting ('kum-shev') and he's raising his hands with the reins and turning the horse. This is truly exciting to watch and I think that Fran in Brooklyn at Kensington Stables would be delighted to hear about it. His teacher Netanela is great with him and really skilled too. We're still struggling with toilet training but I imagine that as in all things Akiva related, it will take it's time and we need to be patient and accepting.

Shutaf (to see pics, look at our old website) Pre-Pesach camp will, to use a Hebrew turn of phrase, get on it's way/'yotzeh la'derekh' next Sunday. We're very excited - 30 kids (we're waiting on the final few), 4 young adults, 14 staffers, and 2 very tired founders, myself and my lovely partner, Miriam Avraham. I can't believe that I'm a camp administrator and I can't believe that we've come this far in less than a year! We raised close to 15k to make this camp happen and it would not have happened without the dedication and support of friends near and far. Pretty much all I do these days, is Shutaf, which has been both wonderful and exhausting. We hope over the next few months to be able to find funding that will let us breathe a bit more and focus on the summer program as well as getting our weekly youth movement program going next fall. All good things for kids with special needs and their friends here in Israel.

Beth says, 'Get involved, tell your community, email me about how you can visit us, volunteer, be part of the Shutaf community of friends.' But seriously, this is a good and important project and even from afar you can make a difference. Readers, if you know of anyone to whom this would resonate, please help me be in touch with them. If you have contacts in Israel as well, I'd be delighted to follow up on them. If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a a country to raise awareness and change ideas about acceptance and inclusion and build real equality and understanding between all people - whether they have a disability or not.

I davened at Shira Hadahsa

2008-03-31T14:56:00.002+03:00

Yes, finally, I summoned up the uumph and led services at Shira Hadasha. It was really rather tame. Except for the one moment that I couldn't remember the currently sung melody of Mizmor L'david (meaning, I could remember the old favorite) and I looked over at Jessica and Tova and Tova started humming but I couldn't remember it again 2 seconds later. Of course, once I finished the paragraph before hand, singing with everyone, it flowed right in but for a moment...panic (or should I say, 'panica').

I was reminded of all the davening that I've done - from Shabbat evening (including Ma'ariv) to Shabbat mornings, to Yom Tov mornings to Rosh Hashanah morning (a big thrill) - but this was big crowd of singers and it's interesting trying to harness that big crowd to do what you want to do. I stuck to the standards and figured I 'll try something new another time. Got some nice comments which felt good.

Acoustics unfortunately are terrible at Hartman, so I was convinced that nobody was singing along, just like at Kane Street, except no Noah singing loudly in the back.

I'm reading Torah there in 2 Shabbatot - Metzora. Not too hard, should be a good intro for me. Working my way in slowly.

Akiva's Tune-up

2008-03-31T14:34:00.002+03:00

There may be many things that are hard to get used to here, but this, I could grow accustomed to easily. That is, once I know to pack for a 'three-day tour.' Akiva went in for a tune up the other day - brakes, new tires, whole new getup. All except for a paint job - they don't do exteriors. (Sorry, that's a joke for those with a kid with special needs - hahaha.)

We made an appointment at Hadassah/Har Hatzofim for Tuesday. We had a made an appt at the clinic for kids with Down Syndrome (Tues is DS day and Monday is CF day, etc) in Feb but it was cancelled due to the inch of snow that fell that day. We rescheduled and went last week. We were told that it would be a long day and we packed what we felt was a respectable amount of provisions for Akiva - 2 small yogurts, sandwich, some fruit and a drink. For ourselves, we assumed that coffee or a bite of his sandwich would sustain us until we finished and dropped him off of school later that morning. BOY, WERE WE WRONG.

We arrived at 8:30am and staggered out at about 3:30pm. And here's the kicker, didn't pay anything - at least nothing extra for our pains, except for the few prescriptions the next day for his ear gunk (nis35, or about $10).

Akiva visited with (in addition to paperwork filled out and handled with the guy at the front desk, the nurse in charge of seeing that we went to the right stations, the nurse at the eye area....):
1. Ear Doctor - wax buildup (see, it's like a car) and some redness. Lots of drops for each ear and nose too and tomorrow he goes for a clean out.
2. Eye Doctor and optometrist - this was interesting because optho and opto don't get along but in this case, they conferred, discussed and Akiva will go back for followup once he gets his new glasses (tomorrow we'll order) and once we figure out what's next (maybe more surgery), etc, as he is very nearsighted.
3. Physical therapist. He could use more therapy - duh - and maybe new orthotics too - double duh - and otherwise looks good. Akiva meanwhile had begun to descend into that sort of deep quiet that he can do, accompanied by chewing on his fingers for enjoyment and making a loud noise to tune out all other noise. I was beginning to wish I could do the same.
4. Dietician. This was a bit of a hoot for me. In typical Israeli fashion, she informed me that he needs more dairy calcium. Why does he drink rice milk? Why would I do that? I told her that he is congested much of the year and that we're careful with calcium and there are other ways of getting your calcium than just in milk and dairy stuff. She told me a yogurt a day and what about hard cheese, etc, etc. I felt like saying, 'honey, you're preaching to the food choir here,' 'I know my stuff...' but Ira glared at me that I should be quiet and let her finish her lecture. I did.
5. Social worker. This was great. A nice religious, former American which helped in terms of language and talking. We chatted freely and openly about life with Akiva and the things we could use help with - life with Akiva and feelings of fatigue, finding after-school activities, help in the house, handicapped parking permit.....

In between, Akiva shuttled back and forth for his eye drops, eye exam and arm wrestles with Picado and his father, who's name I can't remember but it was something like Kussinum, which is thank you in Hungarian, a lovely Ethiopian duo. We talked about languages that we know and don't know - I know English better than Hebrew and he knows Hebrew better than Amharic.

6. The doctor. At the end of the day, we met with Dr. Tannenbaum, a lovely guy, who helped us summarize everything up and also talked with us about side issues, from toileting problems (still a work in progress) to other developmental matters. He ultimately drew blood on Akiva for a host of minor things to be checked and then.....we were done.

DONE. DONE. DONE.
Yes, we had work to do and things to follow up on but we had handled everything....except the dentist. We still have to find out about that.
And because it was Hadassah, which is a Maccabi (our HMO), we didn't pay anything extra. Meaning, other than what we pay quarterly.
Astounding.

Blood? Delayed Post - Sorry

2008-03-09T18:43:00.003+02:00

Note to my readers: This post was obviously delayed and I really struggled over writing it and thinking through what really was on my mind. Suffice to say that I am conflicted. This post was finished today, March 31st.

March 1.
The newspaper was really fun to read this weekend, although at least we had a few days to digest the events of Thursday night at Merkaz Harav Kook before seeing the pictures of the fresh-faced kids, the youngest 14, who were killed/murdered/gunned down while studying.

We were on our way to eat dinner out for Ira's b-day. Heard a billion sirens and saw a local ambulance whiz down our street. Alan confirmed what had happened the first. We drove downtown, listening to the news and Daniel working his 2 phones. Daniel's TRY-Ramah High School kids are here for 6 months of learning, enjoying the country, and events like this try the composure of all the parents. He likes to send out an email right away to reassure them but in this case, the kids were actually out having a free evening (with supervision of course - it's funny when I think of how free kids used to be on their trips - ask Ira about Ramah Seminar in 1978) and over the next hour, he spoke to staff, rounded up the kids who were either downtown, at the mall or at the Hartman Center (they all were sent them home in a taxi), drafted the email (after hearing from one parent) and breathed a sigh of relief when they were all back at the Havat Ha'noar, where they live when they're here. We stood and watched the TV in a few places and eventually went and had our dinner - Alan stayed home though (Lisa was with us and Jessica and Daniel) and Natan met up with 2 friends after his rehearsal and went home with them. His friends were downtown at the bus station, which is quite close to Merkaz Harav when they heard what had happened and decided not to hang around that area. They slept at our house on Thursday night, which they sometimes do anyway, as they live in a moshav in the Jerusalem hills. I was glad when they were all home.

We spill blood and call it a military action - collateral damage, to borrow a term I learned during the Iraq war (the bombing period). They spill blood and we are shocked and horrified - but is the Jewish country, the Jewish way? Are we fighting for our survival the way we did in '48? I don't think so. We have our survival to think of and we face the threat of universal hatred and muslim extremacy but we're not the few anymore or the weak. We have a powerful army - well-trained, impressive, with the ability to wreak havoc, especially in densely populated places like refugee camps and Gaza City. I'm glad that we have an army, a country, bad politics, good and bad Jews, etc, but I worry about the direction of people's thoughts, the level of their distrust, hatred and general belief that most Arabs are only capable of the most minimal kind of modern thinking towards others. I argued about this with my mother the other day. First we argued politics and the state of the upcoming election in the US. I'm proud to report that she called me a Communist (I'm not, but hey, it was my first time) because of the depth of my distrust of how big $$$ operates in the US and my feeling that there's too much collusion of the rich - they run the show an the rest of us just spin around in their orbit hoping for the best. And let's not talk about socialized medicine, etc.

Once we finished the election - trust me she won't vote for Obama, and that has a lot to do with his last name and possible Muslim connections - Israeli's are very jittery about this, regardless of how many articles have been written and I don't suggest that you speak to my sister Sarah about this as her views are fairly poisonous and she lives in the center of the country so my hypothesis may be shot to hell - we moved onto Israel. Needless to say, my mother feels that I am too free and easy and not willing to face the facts that are on the table - they hate us and we hate them and there really isn't anyone to talk to and never will be.

I wonder if this is the Jerusalem thing as I now know what a bizarre bubble I live in. Jerusalem, much as it pains me to admit, is not a normal place. Populated by the ultra-religious, Arabs, regular religious types and others, it is not a place of regular thinking. It is both alternative and conservative, hippyish and straightlaced. People are fairly bigoted here which always bothers me and yet capable of enormous kindnesses to each other, regardless of social group and ethnic background. They live here and never go elsewhere in the country - except to their home countries (if they're from the West) and maybe a bit to Europe. Israelis love to travel, mind you, but J'lemites are again, a different breed which yields a strange insularity not found in Petach Tikva or Ra'anana (forget about comparisons to Tel Aviv), for example.

I lectured Lisa Smith about this when we were in Rome together. Thing is, when you live in J'lem you can forget that problem and it's not a good thing.

A few weeks removed from the events of that night, I can still say that I shudder when I read the newspaper and think of how lousy it all seems lately. Those boy soldiers were kidnapped in 2006 and we're no closer to working out a deal? Sderoters are still getting bombed? Palestinians are still getting harassed by soldiers on their way to the hospital, or coming home from the store with new purchases (the dreaded washing machine story from Ha'aretz - I can't find the link to the story but it was a tale of abuse of power on the part of young soldiers - and this on a day that Natan had to go off to the Enlistment offices) and Gaza'ans have no freedoms. Doesn't anyone want to live differently in this part of the world?

Security Alert - Orange?

2008-03-04T16:19:00.002+02:00

Received in my email box today.

"Warden Message -- Americans Reminded to be Security Conscious In Light
of Violence In the Gaza Strip
In light of the recent escalation in violence in the Gaza Strip,
American citizens are reminded to practice vigilant security awareness.
This includes maintaining a low profile, varying daily schedules and
routines, avoiding crowds and demonstrations and remaining alert for
people and objects that appear suspicious or out of place. While there
is no specific information indicating a threat to Americans or American
interests, there is the potential for heightened tensions. Random
checkpoints and closures of crossings from the West Bank into Israel
can be expected. In addition, planned and spontaneous demonstrations may
occur in Jerusalem, in the vicinity of the Old City and outlying areas.
American citizens are reminded of the current Travel Warning for Israel,
the West Bank and Gaza available at http://travel.state.gov/. The
Department of State continues to urge U.S. citizens to carefully
consider the risks of travel to Israel, to defer unnecessary travel to
the West Bank and to avoid all travel to Gaza."

Yesterday, I had a meeting in Tzur Baher, a small Arab village right down the road from us (click link for map view) here in South Jerusalem. When I drive to Ramat Rahel to work out (almost daily), I turn right at RR and the cars heading to Tzur Baher turn left. My camp project, Shutaf, has been heating up as we attempt to come up with funds for the pre-Pesach camp and this summer as well. (I'm glad to report that we've had some lovely gifts from friends in Brooklyn and some in other places as well - for more information on how to get involved - you and your community, just pop me an email at bysteinberg@gmail.com.) We would like to involve the local Arab community - bring kids with special needs and their friends from local villages in our area and there are a few. Resources and needs are just as high there and as we all know, working together for our kids is not a bad thing. We've been chatting with a lovely social worker in Tzur Baher, Amahl and had planned a day visiting the school where she works - seeing the programming ideas she's implemented, and talking about feasibility of bringing in a group of kids to Shutaf. Unfortunately, she called to cancel, telling us that the mood of the kids at school was not a calm one given the IDF's incursion into Gaza and that we shouldn't come, it wouldn't be safe.

While I was happy that she had been thoughtful, and we will reschedule for next week to meet somewhere on our side of town - coffee, etc - I was disappointed. I guess I hoped that I would be able to make my small bit of difference, regardless of politics, emotions and ill will. I still think it's the work of ordinary people that will one day force their will on the government - somehow and someway - I was reminded of the facts on the ground and they're not easy ones. I can barely stomach reading the newspaper lately. I have my choice of anxiety, fear, destruction and death in Sderot and Ashkelone (where thankfully, the numbers aren't that bad) and complete and utter mayhem in Gaza. I know that negotiations probably continue on in secret but in truth, wonder what are we negotiating for? To continue to kill each other and make each other's lives miserable?

Natan received an invitation/order to go to an army meeting at the end of the month. It's a job connected with munitions - techie job having to do with modern military stuff. Might be interesting, he said 'if it wasn't the army.' While I am realistic about armies defending their civilians and countries defending their turf, I am reminded as always of Golda Meir's famous quote - 'We can forgive you for killing our sons. But we will never forgive you for making us kill yours," but even a heart-rending quote like that becomes almost simplistic and naive in today's charged atmosphere of Hamas/Fatah/Israel and nobody seems to have an answer. What's with that?

Happy Sylvester

2008-01-01T16:18:00.000+02:00

It's 2008. Who can believe it? Don't you remember how you'd think about the year 2000. How old you'd be, what you might be doing, etc...Of course, the first big year like that was 1984 but that's really a long time ago and who remembers where I was that New Years (probably Beth Mann's house).

Was remembering the ghost of New Years past with some visitors currently in town - longtime camp buddy, Howie Feiwus and his wife, Michelle. We both remembered a New Year's of our youth at Avi Havivi's house with the requisite 'barfer' in the back room (all over the coats, yech) and sleeping on the floor in Avi's living room and waking up the next morning really early and getting the heck out of there, fast. Later years were more sedate...there was the New Year's dinner at Danny and Annemaureen for the Millenium, marked by altogether too much food, many courses, many hours of eating, resting, walking and eating again - galette des rois, my chestnut layer cake, Danny's campari and grapefuit sorbet (sorry, Lisa, can't remember what you made but I'm sure it was good). There was the New Year's that Ira and went to bed before midnight - not a tragedy really. Then, there was last night, our second New Year's event that we've thrown here in Jerusalem.

New Year's is sort of the 'bastard child' here. Many don't celebrate at all, especially in religious and conservative Jerusalem. As well, we live in a world where increasingly, the secular and seemingly benign holidays of our youth are not celebrated at all - Thanksgiving barely registers on the religious Jew's calendar and Xmas break is no longer an established tradition for all. Most kids at religous day schools in the Ortho world are off for their mid-winter break during the end of January. New Year's with it's associated St. Sylvester, although I assure you I had no idea of this connection until coming to Israel after college and heard people refer to New Year's as Sylvester (and even then, I think it was some years before I heard about St. Sylvester) puts people off as they are not comfortable with the connection. As well, it's not a holiday at all despite the fact that people do go out and certainly in Tel Aviv, that 'den of iniquity', it's a happening event. But let's be honest, knowing you have to get up the next day and put the kids on the bus, show up at work and generally function does put a damper on the festivities. A few of our guests have NEVER been to New Year's festivities. One friend, daughter of a prominent Orthodox Rabbi, who's a real modernist, said that her father felt very strongly that one should not celebrate the secular New Year's at all. She decided that at the age of 50 she could come to the party, enjoy and not worry about 'falling off the path.' She wasn't going to tell Mom and Dad about it though. Another friend, who grew up mostly here, has just never had the opportunity to do the 'New Year's thing.' But we all agreed that it was nice to party not on Shabbat. There is a dearth of non-Shabbat and holiday leisure time in this country and it gets boring to only entertain on Shabbat but with a busy 6 day work week, when can one make a party?

Last year, we had a few friends over and it was nice. This year, we went more for the gusto with an expanded guest list and had about 25 people last night for a really lovely party. One local wag commented that when she heard the noise of the party as she approached, she realized that it was from our house, a far cry from last year's more sedate party when, as she put it, 'we didn't know anybody!'

We had fun dips (Natan had a heavy hand on the chilies this year so the feta cheese and peppers was almost uneatable). We made Howard Solomon's Muhamara which is based on Paula Wolfert's recipe, and various munchies (thanks Miriam L for the spinach/cheese pie), accompanied by decent drinkables and good music d jay'ed by Natan. The desserts were quite exciting - as I had promised - Jess made a fab trifle (Nigella's recipe, watch her demo it here), Sheryl Abbey made apple pie (excellent crust) Debbie Perla made chocolate cheesecake, Natan and I, truffles, and Ira and I, passion fruit mousse parfaits - these were really great and if you want the recipe, we'll be blogging (give us a day or two) about it shortly. A couple of glasses of champagne and one really good bottle that was drunk on the sly - thanks Linda G - made it a really fun night.

Join us - Next year in J'lem.

Hasbara Beth and Ira Style

2007-12-30T23:50:00.000+02:00

From Wikipedia: Hasbara, Hasbara (Hebrew: הסברה‎, also spelt Hasbarah) is a Hebrew noun that literally means "explanation". ^[1]^[2] The term has been used by the State of Israel and by independent groups to describe their efforts to explain Israeli government policies, and to promote Israel to the world at large.

In other words, Hasbara, is the local spin. There are many who feel that Israel is terrible at Hasbara. Our own Elisheva, Sarah's daughter, currently serving in the IDF in 'Doveyr Tzahal' (Spokesperson's Dept), feels that the army works hard to help journalists understand what's going on but could do better at certain times yet with security concerns being what they are it's often an unwinnable game.

We've realized over the last year and a half of living here that we have our own Hasbara methodology which perhaps if employed more would make for a happier world. We get a phone call or email from a friend, close or long lost. 'We're coming into town' they tell us. We respond with happiness and pleasure - sometimes tinged with exhaustion as certain times of the year are marked by continuous guests (holidays, Xmas/New Years, summertime). 'Want to go out to eat?' they often ask. 'Sure' we respond, 'but maybe you want to come over and have dinner by us...' 'Really?' they say, 'Ok, how about Shabbat?' And we host - dinner on a weeknight means soup and stir-fry or something not to fancy (ask Rena S, we've fed her nicely - then again, she shleps from Costco for us and deserves dessert and a good bottle of wine as well), or evening coffee and cake and we try not to yawn too much (we're not vacationing and wake up for Akiva's bus is 6:15 every day Sun-Fri). Shabbat really is best as even if we're tired on Friday night, we're happy, relaxed and glad to sit and hang out. And if we can get you to come to shul, even better and we'll always shlep the visitor to Shira Hadasha for their lengthy but spirited davening. We make it up to you with a good scotch and a good meal. Shabbat day means shul, lunch and even a game of grab scrabble or if Alan shows up, some bridge. Sometimes we can play during the week too - trips to Tel Aviv to shop are always fun, as well as the shuk in Jerusalem for our favorite coffee and 'croissanterie' and the occasional hike in the countryside if a day can be found. All in good fun and all to show you how we like to enjoy ourselves here.

We're happy to talk politics if you'd like, answer questions about our life here and generally field inquiries about whatever as best as possible. We ask that you not grill Natan too much about the army which he hates talking about but will try to be pleasant if he can.

Then, there's The Honey. Our Tel Aviv partner, Hadass Tesher, said in a conference call the other day that The Honey is her form of Hasbara and I thought, 'what a brilliant statement.' Indeed, people have said to me that what they like about The Honey is that it is completely non-political, although we do list occasional community happenings that may not be liked by all, our emphasis is on living a good life here, enjoying all that Israel has to offer, from the North to the South, from the mix of cultures and the mash of people from all over the world who arrive here to live and work here. If we could only sell our particular brand of Hasbara to the Ministry of Tourism or some big company that would like to sponsor us. ..we're working on it.

But the upshot is that if you come and visit us, like the 35 or so before you - no, make that 45 as we hosted a party of 10 this past Shabbat, we'll make you coffee, serve you cake and if you play your cards right, Shabbat dinner and a tiyul (trip out and about) could happen as well. We want to see you here in Israel, and want to show you our house, introduce you to some of our new friends, let Akiva get excited that you came on a plane to visit him - in short, give you a bit of a taste of how the locals (I guess that's what we are) live.

Give us a call. We're waiting to hear from you.

Spinning in Hebrew

2007-12-25T17:33:00.000+02:00

Taking a spinning class in Hebrew is an interesting experience. Each instructor has their own teaching style, read delivery style. So, Gustavo, (Tues and Wed evenings) originally from S. America, focuses on rapid cycling - he values the level of pressure in time, like double time/fast or triple time/really, really fast, really only Gustavo can turn his legs that fast, and then, there's high pressure (meaning turning the dial up high) and we're all huffing but Gustavo's doing nicely. During the class, he talks a bit, tells us it shouldn't be easy and given that it's nighttime and the disco ball is turning and the lights are off, we all just mind our own business.

Then, there's Mindy, here from Montreal for the last 13 years or so. Her Hebrew is good but mercifully, she throws in a good bunch of English. From her we've learned the terminology for standing up straight, watching that our chest and heads don't sink down and adjusting the pressure to her notions of hard and easy, all delivered with her breezy smile, swinging ponytail and nary a droplet of sweat.

Aryeh is the most amusing from my perspective and the most Israeli - then again, he is Israeli. A retired army man, can't remember what he did but clearly it was not something that allowed him to get fat eating humus and yelling at recruits, he's in impressively good shape for a guy who I'm told has 2 grandchildren - you do the potential math, even if he married and had kids when he was young. His delivery style is 'early military', punctuated by the sounds he likes to make to keep time, 'tock tock' along with his head ticking right and left in time with the music. He takes no prisoners, gives you little idea of what to expect but as you get to know him, you begin to recognize when he's about to up the ante, pick up the pace, start peddling wildly fast and generally, leave the rest of us in the dust. Ira and I never understand much of what he yells out to us during class - he just doesn't say anything that I really recognize but we manage just fine and are always proud of ourselves for making it through.

Today, Aryeh asked me if I bike outside of class - not that much these days to be honest. A combination of a healthy fear of J'lem roads which are barely big enough for traffic, let alone bikes and an unfortunate lack of public awareness about sharing the road with bikes in the first place. I told Aryeh that I need a new bike - which is true. I have a lovely but ancient peugeot that's great for straightaways but not for the constant up and down of J'lem hills. Aryeh told me that I'm a great spinner. Pretty cool. Begins to make me think about doing that Hazon ride sponsored by the Arava Institute next May --- all about the environment and the Arava...hmm.

Budapest Report

2007-11-29T07:47:00.000+02:00

Haven't blogged about much lately, let alone our marvelous trip to Budapest - where we saw not only the city but our beloved Erzsi (now I really know how/why to spell her name after having had a crash course in Hungarian - well not really, too inscrutable for that, but you know what I mean). and enjoyed our endless, cold marches around town.

And it was cold, at least for us. As we packed and stood around scratching our heads at the weather reports (30's and 40's by day) we wondered at what combinations to bring along - fleece and shell, various sweaters, down jackets. I scoffed at down jackets - overkill, I said, and suggested fleeces and shells for all. Gotkes? Never even thought of it until sometime during that first day, when my thighs were freezing in my jeans but enough of my thighs. As Natan said, "Gee, after living in Israel, I guess I've lost my perspective on cold weather." Not that it isn't cold in J'lem and in our house which is far colder and draftier than 409 Pacific was but even on cold days, if the sun is out, it just isn't that bad.

Budapest, as I've reported to many, is many things. It's at first glance, grey and gloomy, with large, hulking buildings presiding over the huddled masses but as you walk the city you begin to appreciate the mix of architecture, the grand boulevards (at least they must have been grand at one time), the once imperial notions of splendor in the churches, museum facades and older structures, many of them pockmarked with bullet holes (Hungarian’s history of war and takeovers but many from the Turks to the Germans is never far from mind) mixed in with boxy, bulky communist affairs, that do nothing except remind one of the presence of the Soviets in Hungarian history.

The people seemed reserved and wait on line too politely, as if to remind you that waiting on lines is something they’ve done before and for many years. The young people looked like young people everywhere and the pedestrian mall, Uta Utca, is filled with stores familiar on the continent and beyond – Zara, Mango, H&M and something called New Yorker that from my elevated perch didn’t look so New Yorkish in it’s style but was clearly selling its own version of street style. As a matter of fact, the difference between the young and the older seemed marked, as if the younger crowd, born at the end of the Soviet era, or indeed, after, had grown up during a different time. They had of course. Erzsi said that life under Soviet rule wasn’t as harsh in Hugary as in other places. She said that they had enough food, if limited but that she, growing up in a more rural setting, had the advantage of a good kitchen garden which provided well for the family. She said that when she would travel as a teen and young adult into Russian areas – where one was allowed to travel – that young Russians wanted to buy their clothing and jeans, although they didn’t have anything special but it was much more than what was available in Russian.

Budapest, is 2 cities of course, Buda and Pest, united sometime ago, along with some of the surrounding area (Obuda, I think, but can't remember what else). Buda, is the old city, complete with low-rise buildings with an old style air (indeed may of them are quite old), a castle and an old church built and rebuilt on it's original medieval foundations many times over the centuries. We walked over the Sveczni Hind (bridge) to get there, and then up the Funicular, a funky little cable car (Akiva was quite pleased) to ge to the top of Castle Hill and then spent some time exploring, in the light rain unfortunately, the church and some of the old, cobblestoned streets, finding where the shul had been (there's always a place where the shul had been), finishing up our walking with an overpriced but pleasant lunch, where we ordered cold salads didn't have anything objectionable (there wasn't much), which thankfully left room for dessert - a specialty from Erzsi's childhood, which was a pile of soft chestnut puree with mounds of billowing whipped cream - and ice cream for Akiva.

That was they day that we traveled to what felt like Queens for a good piece of strudel. The first day, we had checked out the local indoor market to do our food shopping and came home reasonably happy - nice produce if limited, some decent strudel (especially the dill and cheese) and lovely mushrooms for a soup which we enjoyed for a few days. (We were staying in a great apartment that we found online - John Farrago, lives on the UESide, of Hungarian descent, discovered his love for Budapest some years ago with his wife and bought a set of apartments (they all adjoin each other and can be used individually or shared as needed for the group) which they redid with all the necessary travel comforts - from espresso maker to w/d, to ipod docks, cellphones at the ready for travelers to fill, to comfy mattresss with fluffy comforters and most importantly, good, feather pillows. Anyway, John had recommended an outlying area for truly, excellent strudel and we felt that we were deserving. As well, the public transport system is vast and varied - from subways to trams to busses to electric busses to commuter trains - so it seemed and excellent opportunity to avail ourselves of them.

The question was, how? Thankfully, we still had Erzsi with us but even she wasn’t sure. In short, one buys a booklet of tickets (most people seem to have unlimited passes), then passes the tickets through this machine that eats them in some partial way (no hanging chads), then one walks through until confronted by various, officious looking types who demand to examine your tickets. This, while holding an eager and excited Akiva back, who sees and hears the sounds of subway trains, and who is making noises that while scary to others merely indicate his overwhelming excitement and inability to find the necessary words at that moment. The ticket examiners seemed to be leftovers from the Soviet era, an example of everyone must work and have a job, even unnecessary ones. Other such examples, people ‘khopping and klopping’ wherever we went, old and young, digging up bits of sidewalk that seemed perfectly fine or manning seemingly innocuous entrances to places, just so that they could stop you and ask you questions in Hungarian. We made our way first onto a street tram – very nice, new train cars, longest in Europe at 53 meters – then, a subway train (we took old and new cars, even one train with narrow cars dating from the Soviet period) that reminded me of train cars from the IRT line in the 70’s in NYC and along with much map study and walking, arrived at our destination – a hole in the ground, nearby to some large, industrial looking furniture stores, in a grey and unattractive residential area north of Pest. The strudel store, for all of its size, had an impressive variety of flavors and we put in our order for 2-3 of every flavor and waited while they packed us up. We watched the strudel man rolling strudel, the dough stretched out over a kitchen table to infinitesmial thinness, then filled and rolled up and somehow, transferred to the oven without any mishaps. The strudel was truly impressive – thin dough, light and crisp although not terribly flavorful it had the right texture and feel, sort of the presenter to the fillings, fruity or cheesy or with nuts or some combinations thereof. We made our way back home with our aromatic loot, walking through the streets from Deak Ter, down past Vorszmarty Ter, to Szervita Ter (Ter is square and everything is a square, populated with the shadowy reminder of goosestepping soldiers, often with it’s own statue of sort or some sort of monument to some long forgotten figure or imperial time), to our apartment.

We checked out the flea markets – supposedly, Budapest is the repository of the detritus of the Soviet era – and the one market that Natan, Ira and I visitied (Gabe and Akiva stayed home) really gave you a sense of the marketable and the simply curious. Flotsam and jetsam from the insides of cellphones, bric a brac that could only be considered ugly and not really for resale, old clothes (vintage would not be a reliable term), LP’s of unknown singers, toys – many of them broken and some that looked like they’d been saved from some fast food restaurant kid meal, etc. The sellers themselves were curious – many of them without the normal array of teeth, and there were Gypsy’s as well among the mix and others from places unknown. It was unclear if anyone makes a living at the flea markets but there was a bonhomie typical of such places, people greeting each other, drinking coffee, admiring each others wares.

From there, we went back to the market, for ingredients for our mushroom goulazs for Shabbat dinner. We had heard that the back of the market was home to wild mushrooms, direct from the forest, presided over by the mushroom inspector who makes sure nobody will keel over from eating them. We investigated and found a table with a variety of choices, dark, wrinkly and mysterious looking. We asked for a price – our seller wrote it down on paper – we countered with our own offer (this is recommended when buying mushrooms), she counteroffered and we settled. Mushrooms in hand, we investigated the veggies, finding the ‘bio’ or organic stall, and bought some. Natan said, “let’s see what crone #2 has,” and we did, and she wasn’t such a crone but a sturdy, peasant looking woman of indeterminate years, selling honey and other things related to bees. We bought some honey, in addition to the aforementioned paprikas – regular and hot. We bought yogurt – pointing to the picture of the sheep and a sort of fresh cheese curds, flavored with paprikas (everything has paprikas it seems) and we would have bought milk just to feel like the locals, who arrived with their plastic jugs and soda bottles for refills from the milk can but had no receptacle of our own.

We checked out the Jewish part of town, home to one of the largest synagogues in all of Europe, the Dohanyi St Shul. The building, in a Moorish style, is vast and the sanctuary is quite impressive – darkly colorful and historic, the names of the congregants engraved on little plaques in front of their seats. There is a courtyard in the center, which essentially became a graveyard during WWII and there’s a modest but quite moving monument to the community’s families killed by the Nazis – a weeping willow tree in silver metal, every hanging leaf engraved with the name of a family. Too many family names engraved. We tried to go back for Fri night but couldn’t find where to enter but we did find the way in on Saturday morning and found ourselves in their sizeable chapel (it’s too expensive to heat the main sanctuary during the winter). Seating is separate but no mechitza. There’s an organ and choir and cantor singing, dressed in the old style with black robes and fancy cantorial toque. Nobody seems to sing along but then again, the average age was about 70 with a few younger faces, including the Rabbi who seemed to have ants in his pants the whole time and a few others. Ira and I, in particular, enjoyed the pronounciation – heavy on the ‘Galitzianer’ style, tough on my Ashkenazi ears but a balm to Ira’s senses, as he grew up with ‘kigel’ and ‘Pirim’ and my favorite, ‘Shiiviyis’ for the holiday of Shavuot. Again, nobody was that friendly to us, basically wishing us Gut Shabbes on their way out. We started chatting with an American couple who was also visiting and discovered during the course of their conversation that their daughter lives in Bklyn – at that point the bells went off. ‘What’s your last name?’ ‘Gutman…’ Elissa Gutman, who Jessica used to share an office with in J’lem when they both worked for the Forward and now writes for the NYTimes and goes to Kane Street (not a regular goer) and for those with long memories, is cousin to Hugh who used to run Boerum Hill Food Company, long before Restaurant Saul bought it! It’s a small world. Fortified by that bit of Jewish geography, we shared email addresses and went home for lunch.

We returned to Israel with a sense of satisfaction. Europe is close and within reach (I write this from the Brno, as a matter of fact, in the Czech Republic where I am for a long weekend with Jessica who had a last minute business opportunity and is here writing a story). Flights are not outrageously expensive and at least in Eastern Europe which is not fully ‘Euro’ized’ your dollar goes further (since of course the dollar goes nowhere lately) and you get a real taste of history along with the dumplings, strudel and some very good cups of coffee.

Akiva, for his part, got to go on a plane and that was just fine with him. And he got to revisit all of his favorite traditions with Erzsi – the books they enjoyed reading together, the songs they loved to sing in Hungarian, the hugs and kisses that they shared and the fun that they always had together. Lucky Akiva and lucky us.

My Mother the Assassin

2007-11-28T17:53:00.000+02:00

Today, I drove my parents from J'lem to Hofit - which is a small, sleepy village between Netanya and Hedera. I've mentioned Hofit before, I think, as Michael (sister Sarah's husband) hails from there and I used to love to visit there - it's a beach village, which when I first found it, abutted K'far Vitkin, one of the oldest moshavim in the country and we'd spend our time visiting the cows that Michael knew, the avocado trees that he'd planted and then, swim at the beach. Now, it's a bit more upscale. That is, mixed in with the old styled bungalow houses are newer, swankier, Israel styled McMansions, that look rather silly but echo the worldwide need to have too many bathrooms to keep clean. Michael's mother, Lillian, who will be 90 in April, still lives in the same, simple house that he grew up in. At the time, it was quite spacious by Israeli standards - just to have a house was a big deal, as most people reared families large and small in apartments and very small apartments at that. Lillian and Moshe, first started out on Kibbutz Kfar Blum, but Lillian hated the Kibbutz and wanted to be near the city and live a different life. Again, keep in mind that they moved here in the late 40's and life in those days was one of deprivation and simplicity. As she always says, they were happy and content with what they had and 'everyone was a Zionist.' Meaning, when people came and made Aliya in the 50's there was no going back to the old country. This was where they wanted to make their lives as Jews and this was where they stayed. Lillian adds that she was 'not a Zionist,' but that she just came along with Moshe. While this is true, life here made a believer out of her, although she's the first to recognize the warts in Israeli life today.

The conversation went in many different directions - who would we vote for today if the US elections were being held. As expected, they don't trust Hillary, partially because she 'stood by her man,' and because she's perceived as being 'wishywashy' on things. Guiliani interests my Mother but she maintains that being Mayor of NY does not prepare you for the office of President. Lillian was curious to hear why I detest our present leadership and what I think could be different with a new leader. Then, we talked about current problems here. Lillian informed us that she had just recently written a letter to the editor of the Jerusalem Post to complain about coverage - you should be so good when you're 90, I thought to myself. Her beef? Too much talk about Anapolis and the usual diplomatic shenanigans when we're entering our 40th day or so of the teachers strike. She, along with my mother, detest Olmert (as do many) and feels the the current government is both corrupt and untrustworthy and absolutely cringes when she see Olmert in photo-ops with Abbas.

My mother reminds Lillian that she wanted to shoot Olmert a few months ago during another politcal discussion. She adds, my mother that is, the instigator, that one doesn't get such heavy sentencing in this country, look at Haim Ramon back in office already and in a few years, Katzav will find a way back in too. 'Lillian,' she adds, 'You're an older lady...if you assassinate him they won't put you in jail for a long time.' Lillian agrees with her. My mother says, 'I'll be your accomplice, we can get through security!' We all laugh at the thought of the Granny assassins but I tell them that they're terrible and misbehaving. My father naps in his chair in the lovely, warm sun that is so nice to us cold Jerusalemites, and when he wakes up will tell him the joke.

As we're leaving, Lillian tells my mother that she's on, but 'you get the gun!'

New Blog and other matters

2007-10-29T12:25:00.000+02:00

Many things going on lately. Working on our Chanukah camp for kids with special needs and preparing the budget right now as we speak. It's tough as we don't really have any funds yet, other than the funds that we raised for the summer -which were for the summer - and now we need to see if we can make the program more specialized for our kids and train the staff the way we'd like, and of course, that all costs money. Fortunately, I'm working with 2 other people that I really enjoy - Miriam Avraham and Uri Lahav. They both speak the language of the special needs world - Uri from his work with adults and kids and Miriam because she's got a kid with DS (I think I've mentioned her before). We met last night to talk over the program that Ein Yael has presented us and to talk budget and as usual, to dream - to dream over the program that we'd like to build and make happen for our kids and the kids of Jerusalem and beyond. I guess I have to learn how to fundraise in addition to learn how to really make this thing happen. First, we'll work on Chanukah and then decide how to officially become an 'amuta' - charitable organization. We do need a name, though. How about 'Kaytana She'lanu' - Our camp. That is, camp for all of us.

Natan and I have started a new blog, Cooking without a Parachute, which is still under construction. Natan has long wanted to 'have a cooking show together', as he used to say when he was younger and we watched too much of the Food Network. In those days, we'd cook together and pretend to be hosting a show, Natan providing color commentary to whatever we were making, while I chopped and described the dish and its method of preparation. Our idea with the blog is cooking by the seat of your pants. Looking into your refrigerator, pulling out whatever seems interesting and just making something. Even if you consult a cookbook, you let your ingredients and your mood guide you to adjust as necessary. Everyone can do this even though most will so, 'oh no, I need to follow a recipe.' There's nothing wrong with recipes except that they often prevent you from making a dish. You don't have carrots, or are missing mushrooms. Ok, so don't make mushroom soup if you don't have mushrooms but you can still make something else with whatever you do have in stock. As well, most of us have an excellent choice of condiments on our refrigerator doors. Condiments are our friends. From those bits of chutney, aging mustards, mystery sauces that you picked up or were gifted once, and salad dressings, come marinades for tofu, meats and fishes as well as quick toppings for simple grain and veg meals.

We see the blog as a way of engaging the boys in cooking as well, which they already do but which I'd like to see happen more, especially during the week. As a matter of fact, Gabe made dinner last night and you can read about it right now...

Other big news is that we're all going to Budapest to meet up with our beloved, Erszi. You too, can meet us in Europe one day, especially if Ira continues to be the master of frequent flyer miles. He schemed and plotted and now we're all flying frequent flyer. Ok, we're not all flying together but that's another matter. We still have to find a place to stay but we're working at it. If you have any ideas - need a short-term rental for 5 days.

Lastly, The Honey will be sending out a survey next week - if you're a Honey reader, please click and fill it out as we need to know more about our readers so that we can learn how to best serve them...and make money.

It's Raining

2007-10-17T19:13:00.000+02:00

It's raining. Wait, IT'S RAINING. It's raining it's pouring (not exactly but it's coming down for a few minutes with nice, fat splotches of rain)...it's tinkling outside my window as I sit and type these words to you. Now there's lightening and thunder. How exciting.

Meaning, it's raining (have I made that clear) and it's the first rain since last April, I guess, or early May - yes, I think there was a late drizzle in May. The air smells strange - kind of like every bit of dirt of the last many months is sort of being moved about before it gets tamped down by the dampness. We drove home carefully as when it rains here for the first time, people get into car accidents - they've literally forgotten how to drive in slipperly conditions. Crazy, huh?

Now it's a few hours later and it's positively autumnal feeling here - breezes blowing and I can even consider wearing warmer pj's tonight and using an extra blanket.

The first rain is called the 'yoreh' here and it's cause for celebration and I can see why as it's almost unbelievable that it finally rained again.

Natan, who just returned from Poland (more on that at another time) was less impressed, having experienced both rain and cold weather there but for the rest of us, waiting for that first drop of rain, it's just thrilling.

Let's hope for a rainy, rainy season.

Oh No

2007-10-14T17:02:00.000+02:00

I've been found. Forget about Ira, I've been found. I should kill Jessica as part of it, is her fault although she claims that she wasn't the only one who thought of me.

Shul jobs are coming to call this fall. What to do?
Job Description: Working with someone else to coordinate hospital visits and 'what do you need' calls to families at Shira Hadasha.
Skills Needed: Hospital experiences (well, we all know I've done my share this year), ability not to get in people's faces (I always have to work on that one), desire to get to know people at Shira Hadasha (well it would be useful).
Who suggested me: Jess said it wasn't her. She said she was at a meeting with a few people with whom I dealt over the summer during Jess's hosptial incarceration. How much you want to bet she tipped her hand.

Ma'yanot
Job Description: 'Kef' Organizer. Within very small community, be involved to create fun activities together, from meals to picnics, to hikes to who knows what?
Skills Needed: People person (umm), good organizer (umm), desire to get involved (mum on this one as still sit on the fence alot of the time), good at planning things (sigh).
Who suggested me: Miriam Avraham, a Ma'yanot friend and mother of Adina, who has DS and has become a friend. She's taking on the role of Y"oR/Yoshev Rosh/Acting Head of the Kehillah/community, with her husband, Yehuda. I'm trying to talk her out of it as I think I'd much more enjoy community outreach and fundraising.

I have this idea of pairing Ma'yanot with an egalitarian community I know...
Great idea...doncha think?

Actually, went to the Ma'yanot meeting last night. Sat around in someone's living room, noshing and laughing and getting down the business of how to better organize ourselves, run ourselves, and perhaps build the community and find a semi-permanent home until the municipality deigns to finalize the plot of land that supposedly awaits us in this general neighborhood. Felt alot better about the community than normal as out of a very small group of members, almost everyone sent a representative, and in some cases, 2. That's cool.

Bathrooms and Baseball

2007-10-14T16:39:00.000+02:00

Have I told you about bathrooms in Israel? Meaning, have I told you that you don't have to train your bladder to become camelike in it's capacity to hold for hours? That you don't have to have a working map in your head of your neighborhood, and others as well, and the friendly places that you can pee, or beg to pee or sneak in to pee. As a matter of fact, if you're somewhere in this country, all you have to do is say, 'where's the bathroom?' or even simpler, 'I have to pee' (yes, that's what people say, albeit in Hebrew) and someone will point the way. It may be clean or dirty, may have paper or not, but it will always be available to you, without having to show a small child grabbing between their legs so prove the need, so to speak.

So, imagine my pleasure the other night, after having driven an hour and a half (almost) in late day traffic, with a car full of boys eager to play baseball, to the one regulation baseball field in the country for a game against the K'far Saba team to arrive at Kfar Ha'baptist'im/Baptist Youth Village, one of the main places of play in the IBL and despite the simple setting, slightly rundown look of the buildings, the bathrooms were clean and pleasant to use.

Some info about the Baptist Youth Village (from jewishvirtual library.org, in case you were wondering..."Three Protestant communal agricultural settlements have been established in different parts of Israel in recent years. Kfar Habaptistim, north of Petah Tikvah, was founded in 1955, and besides farming provides conference and summer-camp facilities for the Baptist and other Protestant communities in the country." So, for those who will understand the reference, it's the Koynonia of Israel.

Gas stations have nice bathrooms, coffee places all have nice bathrooms, and even the grocery store bathrooms are passable in this country. Just carry your own toilet paper to be sure!

Note on the game: Gabe's team loss but not after 2 solid innings of hitting (the other team also had 2 rallies) and one heavily disputed call that was worked out - I won't tell you how but the suffice to say, the umpire was allowed to save face and Gabe's coach apologized for losing his cool but as he said, 'I had to, for the guys...it was only fair' or something along those lines. It was a loss but a loss with style and verve and heart. Sister Sarah and Michael showed up with Noam, late in the game, to cheer Gabe as he swung and missed at the plate. That was kind of fun as we were right near their house and they enjoyed being able to pop on by, bringing me a much needed cup of tea, and stay to heckle the players for a while. The field is really beautiful and that made the evening even more enjoyable. Kind of like sitting at a single A game somewhere in the middle of nowhere - before they built stadiums for those games and started charging money. Not that this was anywhere near single A ball but that feeling...if you get what I mean.

HaHa

2007-10-05T16:35:00.000+02:00

It's shocking to think of all the things I've done today - woke up at 5:30ish (bathroom), then laid in bed listening for Akiva (5:50), then waited for Akiva to arrive in our bed (6:00), got up and dressed and biked to Ramat Rachel with Ira for 7:00am Spinning class(Gabe laid in bed and supervised Akiva) which was followed by some laps in the pool (me, not Ira), a bit of a shvitz and then back home. Cooked, tidied, read email, etc, and then off for errands locally with Akiva and Ira (after he had worked for a bit), met up with Natan who had babysat for Fayanne for a bit - ate pizza (Akiva and Ira), bought a paper, coffee (Ira and I), surprisingly tart sorbet (me) and then home with a stop for JPost and bread (pickings were slim because it was late), milk and eggs. Shabbat starts in 5 minutes or so.

So, what's the big deal, you ask? The big deal is that while I was doing all of that, you guys were sleeping and now you're getting up for your 2nd day of holidaying and dancing, praying and singing, eating and eating and eating....

It's shocking, really, but I have to say really quite wonderful and it's enough of a reason to live here - especially on the good days.

Gotta to run and light candles.
Shabbat Shalom y'all.

Unstuck in Time

2007-09-17T16:47:00.000+02:00

More on Beth getting involved and dealing with 'separation anxiety.' Meaning, adjusting to what I 'left' and what I've 'gotten.'

I've been mulling over my feelings about this matter. What it means to leave a place, what it means to be a newcomer and what it means to trade one set of variable for another. Moving has exposed one truth of life. You give up one thing to get another thing. I gave up my community in Brooklyn for my family here. And I have them - we celebrate birthdays (the wallet is constantly open for gifts), we go on hikes, we plan ski trips (I hope this winter), we talk about family problems, we support each other, we laugh together.

In Bklyn I had one set of constants and they were not perfect but they were mine - the shul drove me crazy (yes, this is true), I missed my family and was lonely, I needed different support systems in my life. There were the good points too, the shul community, the homeschooling community, directing the theater group, friends, neighborhood, subway, Sahadi's (ok, I have the shuk here)...in short my life of 20 years in Bklyn. My new set of circumstances here continue to improve and develop but that doesn't change the fact that that which kept me moored in life, no longer exists for my everyday life. The shul experience most exposes that here - it's different here. You go to shul, it's not your social life, it's the place where you pray. Yes, you have friends, yes, you invite people for lunch but you have friends who daven elsewhere and maybe you too daven elsewhere so it's not pivotal to your life to make it work.

I've decided that the main issue is that I feel 'unmoored' in terms of synagogue matters. I've gotten used to anonymity this year and had felt more connected in to places slowly. We've invited and been invited a bit...but it's hard. I have barely read Torah anywhere - just Mayanot, too uptight to offer myself up at Shira Hadasha yet. Davened once I think at Mayanot the whole year. Have davened at a whole host of places but feel connected to none really, although I smile at people and can survive kiddush although at times it's tough. I prefer to sit on the side with Akiva as he munches on pretzels and chips. (Actually, did very well at kiddush at Shira Hadasha this past Shabbat, which pleased me as Ira and Natan were with me as well.) None of the shuls calls to me as my home. One aside here - it's interesting how many of my Bklyn compatriots are quite put off by davening in an Orthodox shul when they come to visit. Too me, while it's not a perfect solution (men and women sitting separately), it's not a deal breaker, it's just a readjustment to something that I used to know and do (friends while in school, etc and even in JTS in the old days) but haven't done in a long time. Moreover, I know so many cool Orthodox feminists here, who continually think of how important it is to be an Orthodox feminist and to teach their children accordingly, while the Conservative jewish women I meet, are still thinking through what they do or don't do in shul. Look beyond the mechitza - it's just a barrier and it's what they're used to. Don't let it stand in the way of understanding and t'filah/prayer.

Since 1983, I have felt a particular tug to this place. Actually, I started feeling the pull in 1982/3 when I was here for the year after college (forgetting the brainwashing towards Israel and living here that was a major part of my life). Then, Jonathan and Barbara moved and the rest is history. Tug, tug, tug. It was the line from Maurice Sendak's book, 'Where the wild things are,' that really brought me here - "And Max the king of all the wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all." That messy, unconditional love of parents and sibs. And even if it meant leaving so many dear to me on the other side of the pond.

So, here I am and I discover that now I have to feel a tug to what I left. I feel the tug to the familiar. To the mundane - brownstones and trees changing colors, the grit of Atlantic Ave (it's fast disappearing), the subway, the tall, tall buildings that block out the sky. To the less mundane - my friends, my reputation (I know it's shallow but it's true), my sense of belonging. Recently, 2 women (only women would say this to another woman) made some comment to me that 'I don't work,' and I thought, only someone who knows me for a very short time would actually say that to me - and then I realized, they only know me for a very short time. They know very little of what has driven me for many years, even if I didn't follow a tradional career trajectory that reads easily on a CV.

What to do about all this? Nothing, I realize. Thing about it, talk about it, but not dwell on it too much. Let this 2nd year here unfold, with whatever surprises good and bad will come our way. Maybe we'll find our moorings and fasten the tent posts to some community and maybe we'll continue in this peripatetic way - the 'wandering Jews,' in our homeland but not at home yet.

Shana Tova

2007-09-17T14:26:00.000+02:00

Blogging vacation the past month or so. It's been the calm down from Jess's adventurous summer, the end of the 'big vacation' as they call it here - day trips with the big boys and a few smaller trips with Akiva and the big boys. The final visits of the summer - Penny and Sarah Owen, the Chevan family. Excellent archeology moments with the big boys - Herodian, Beit Guvrin. A very long, but enjoyable walk through the Old City with Penny and Sarah. Meals, scotch, chitchat, enjoyed with the Chevans and both boys had more opportunities to hang with the kids.

As Rosh Hashanah approached, though, I felt concerned about the whole shul issue. Where would we go, which place would satisfy our needs during the holiday period? High Holidays are different than regular Shabbatot. I, for one, as does Ira, have a desire to hear a certain kind of prayer/davening during the high holidays. I want to hear Ashkenazic litergy, I want to yah buh buh in the way that I have for many years. While I wasn't expecting to be back in Bklyn, and I knew that Kane Streeters weren't going to be hearing Ray this year - although having met and heard Boaz, I had a feeling that people would, for the most part, be pleased - but I was looking for something that would at least have a familiar feel.

My parents were coming to Jess's house (Daniel's in Toronto, doing a RH/YK gig). Ok, that meant that we were davening in part at Beit Boyer, sometimes called Beit Boring, an average Orthodox place of prayer. It has the sex appeal of an MK that davens there, Melchior, who also serves a 'Rabbi' of the community. This is a title of honor, but it does mean that he sets a certain tone and often speaks - but his tone is a friendly and open one. Beit Boyer is a friendly place, with a decent amount of Anglos, and we know people locally who daven there. Each day, my parents would be there, with a representative keeping them company. We bought our tickets and wondered what it would be like. Jess and I menu-planned. Boys baked. Akiva sang songs. Ira and I shopped and cooked.

The Friday before RH, we got the call from Mayanot - Conservative Egal. I was asked to read Torah on 2nd day and Ira to daven mincha on Day 1. We hemmed and hawed. Everything that Mayanot does, they do at the last minute. There's a certain beauty to their method as they always pull it off - just at the skin of their teeth. I had already sworn that I would say no to any last minute jobs, but gee, reading Torah 2nd day? Akedah story of Isaac? It's my favorite, literally sends chills down my spine to read it. We accepted. We were curious anyway to see how services would be for us this year, when we weren't as shell shocked as we were last year for the holidays. Setting up chairs on Tuesday night at Mayanot - rubbing the dust off with a damp towel, we wondered if last minute wasn't such a good idea but 'in for a penny, in for a pound.' Besides, the boys like the familiarity of Mayanot and it's very comfortable with Akiva. Anything goes at Mayanot - from the barefoot kids running around with their bags of bamba in tow, to the easy going friendliness of the constituents (a rarity in these parts we've found), to the interesting mix of Americans and Israelis (yes, real live Israelis) who come to daven there.

Shira Hadasha was out, at least for me, for RH. Jessica would get there on Day one though. Truth was, Ira and I had gone there last year and had been underwelmed. While the t'filah was, as always, delivered with meaning and thought, the style of song wasn't Ashkenazi enough for us. It was sort of 'Carlebach goes RH,' and it left us wanting more. Their shofar blower was nothing special, although Jessica assured me that they had someone new this year who was reputed to be quite good.

Natan and I went to Beit Boyer on Day 1. After feeling sort of unsettled for the first 1/2 hour or so - why was I in a shul that I never normally go to and how will I feel comfortable - I settled in and began to enjoy myself. I smiled at a few people (my good friend Karyn and her girls were behind me, and I know some other faces from the neighborhood, etc), chatted briefly with the nice South African lady next to me (she's been here 37 years), and began to enjoy myself. The davening was completely Ashkenazic and familiar. The shofar blower, while not approaching Rena's virtuosity, was good and his shofar had an interestingly mournful tone and his blowing style was quite assured. My mother and I liked the air-conditioning, which was its usual galactic temperature (in the Beit Boyer email, which arrives every Fri, they list what that week's temp will be so that everyone can come 'dressed for their comfort') and we liked the Ba'al Mussaf, who had a certain gravitas suited to the day. Turns out he's a Brit. Melchior gave a good drash, looking over at us ladies, as much as he looked at the guys.

Day 2, I went to Mayanot. Aside from the sound of the bouncing basketballs outside on the court, the tefillot were said with meaning and seriousness. The leadership suffered from a bit of 'atonality' but what can you do? The shofar blowing was marred by a problematic shofar with a small opening. No problem. By the end of the service, a runner had been dispatched to someone's home and returned with a better shofar and the final blasts were delivered with force and enjoyment - no more dying moose to serenade us with. We were hosting 'Nativnicks,' post High School kids here in Israel for the year with a program though the Conservative movement. Natan recognized 2 girls from his choir singing with Hazamir in NYC and happily trotted off to Alan and Lisa's for lunch - Gabe, too, so that they could sing/discuss their way through the repertoire.

So what was the problem? I don't know. Maybe it was too 'loosey goosey' for me. Maybe it was too small a minyan - Mayanot suffers from the Kane St problem of nobody around until Torah reading (shacharit is really the 'added service' not mussaf in the Conservative movement). Mayanot has plugged away at being a viable source of egalitarian Judaism for years and yet, they remain, unsung, without a permanent home, forever the forgotten minyan in the area. Sometimes, I think they like it that way - they like it smaller and more modest and with a definite emphasis on involvement within, otherwise they wouldn't be able to make it happen week after week. I feel that they deserve better, should want better, should demand better, from themselves, the movement, the local kehillah/community in general.

I hear you - get involved, Beth, you can do it, you can change things, shake things up a bit, etc. Somehow, I just can't yet. It seems scary and strange and I'm just not ready to expose myself like that yet. I would like to work to the development of the Cons egal community here - raise money, get us a perm home, etc. Ok, that's involvement but it's for a cause and a good one at that. More on this for my next post.

In short, Shana Tova to all of you. A year of health, fun, visits to Israel (if you can) or meeting in Europe (haven't explored this possib enough yet but am trying to work out a meet in Budapest idea with Erszi), and in general, life in all of it's complications.

Aack - One Year Today

2007-08-16T23:03:00.000+03:00

Yes, folks, it's the day. 1 year in the Land of Israel. The land of absurd politics, sleazy politicians who can't keep their pants zipped and their mouths closed, the land of religious extremism and religious non'ism, the land of bureacracy and rubber stamps and the land of too many Jews. It is definitely the land of the tailgate driver and the stupid driver, as well as the land of painful banking experiences and too many papers to sign.

Thankfully, it is also the land of excellent humous, fresh and squishy pita and tasty cucumbers and tomatoes. It is also the land of blue skies and sunny days, where the wind blows to freshen things up most evening (at least where we leave) and where a trip to the pool can be combined with a historical tour of the bunkers from 1948 and an ongoing archeological dig of stuff from 2000 years ago. It is a land where the sky extends out big and open in front of you (Natan feels it's too open, he prefers skyscrapers) and where at night you can see actual stars twinkle along with the lights of civilization.

It's a complicated place yet our lives feel somewhat less complicated. At least we've left our junk mail behind, not a bad thing. We've traded the business of 20 years in Bklyn - friends, shul, homeschooling community, theater group - for family matters. Both a blessing - birthday parties shared, holidays cooking together, trips to do errands big and small with Jess and other sibs - and complicating - my father's illness and aging, Sarah's surgery, Jess's adventures of the last 2 months. I still not used to my family's expectations that I should talk to them all the time. I'm surprised by this and yet, delighted to have it, for myself, as well as the kids and Ira. We miss the stuff and life of Bklyn and most of the week it seems okay, until Shabbat that is. We've met good people and as usual, Akiva has brought special people into our lives, like Melina, who told me today that I'm like an Aunt to her. I was glad to hear that and she is protective of Akiva as if he were her own. Doesn't make it easier to have left Erszi but it's good that we've met good friends for Akiva, or are working on it, here.\

Today, Ira and I and the big boys went to Beit Guvrin, a fabulous constellation of underground caves, dwelling places, cisterns, olive oil presses, pigeon guest homes, etc, hewn out of the local limestone of the area. We walked around marvelling at the the great condition of the antiquities and the 'oldness' of the place, the history, the sheer wonder of having your history laid out right at your feet.

We drove home, everyone tired, hot, dusty and sweaty. Ira went to work upstairs, boys to their corners, me to the computer. Akiva came home from the pool with Melina and I went off to my new discovery, Spinning class. Came home and the big boys were cooking for Shabbat. Penny and Sara Owen arrive tomorow. I joined in. Life is good.

Hurdles

2007-07-25T08:45:00.000+03:00

Big hurdle forded yesterday. Ira and I successfully passed our driving tests. You may wonder? You had to take a driving test? Well, according to local lore, after the 'Russians came,' this to be compared with my Mother's line of after the 'Hungarians came,' (explain: post-world war II, the Hungarians who had survived in greater numbers, even though Hitler did his best to kill off as many as he could despite the fact that it was '44, arrived in NYC, they brought with them their more uptight version of kashrut and observance and according to my mother and grandmother z"l, that's when heckhshered cheese first showed up - in the '50's perhaps. Ask Danny Magill for more information.)

Anyway, when the Russians came enmasse, it became apparant that driving laws/testing was even more problematic there than here where driving is quite the sport - people are killed more on the roads than in wars - and they tightened the rules so that every new immigrant has to at least take a lesson and a test in order to be licensed. Use to be, you just brought your American license down and got switched. My parents were the last to be able to do that. In typical Israeli fashion, you have to go for a very intense eye test (no standing and reading the letters at the DMV) and then, of course, to the doctor (such a bore), and then, down to the DMV type of office for your forms to be stamped and such many times and they make note of where your license came from, etc...then, you get to take your lesson and test.

We had been given the name of this guy, David, who is clearly making a killing helping nervous immigrants go through this process. He picks up your papers, gets them to the appropriate offices and then, calls you to schedule your lesson/test, drives you back and forth to the testing area and generally, holds your hand (he patted my head but at least he's over 70) and tells you it will all be fine - this for 400nis or about $100, which is alot of money considering that a regular lesson is about nis100. But we went with it because of all the horror stories - like Alan Salzberg failing the first time. Also, we had waited until the umpteenth moment to do this. You have 3 years to do the test but if you don't pass by the end of the first year, you can't drive until you pass. Some disagree with this, some say you'll just get ticketed if you get caught but there it is.

It was Tisha ba'av/fast day for commemorating the destruction of the 2nd Temple a loooong time ago (you know Jews and their long memories). Light traffic. Auspicious day. I had my lesson at 7:50 with Bob Carroll (went to Brandeis, knows Simcha boy back when he was Fred), and it should be added that Ira and I were making our lives marginally more difficult by doing the test in stick. We both drive stick and in this country, typically, you have to pass the test for stick in order to drive both types. If you pass just automatic then you can't drive a stick. Rediculous I know. Actually, maybe it's not so rediuclous but it's amazing to think that they're so stringent but nobody drives well anyway. One theory we have is that they make you drive so slowly and carefully, that nobody is ever trained to deal with normal road conditions. Also, I think that they are patriarchal to the women and make them nervous so many of the bad driving one sees is by women and then men drive as if they own the road and EVERYONE tailgates which is a major cause of accidents.

We each had our lessons. I, of course, had to go inside btw lessons bec of babysitter handoff since Akiva wasn't in school yesterday, and have my stomach be so upset and nervous that I ate a cracker and drank water (so much for fasting but I'm not a great TB faster to begin with) before I went back into the car for the rest of Ira's lesson (of course the teacher said nothing to Ira about anything - at least not the way he lectured me about road rules and of course, Ira was cool as a cucumber).

The tester entered the car. Nice guy. Ira started and drove, and I kid you not, maybe 4 minutes before being asked to pull over to the right (I thought he had done something wrong but nooo....) and then, I went (I told Bob, our new bff, that I had to go next or die of nervousness) and I drive for perhaps 3 minutes, and finally, Bob, who took us back the driving test offices. And that was it. We passed. For this I had to eat my kishkes out? And what a scam really. Thank goodness I'm not like my niece Elisheva, who's failed 4x and has put so much money into her lessons that it's just absurd. She can drive but they keep failing her on odd technicalities and just to keep getting the money - you have to take 28 lessons just to take the test the first time if you're a new driver and then each time you fail, you have to take a few more and then if you fail a certain amount of times you're really screwed. Natan says he'll never do it.

On to the next adventure.
Natan has arrived back in country. Oh happy day.

Tis the Season

2007-07-22T22:07:00.000+03:00

Quick trip to the 'yarkan'/veg and fruit guy on Friday. I should preface this that when we don't go to the shuk or to 'supersol deal' we do one of 2 things. We now order organic deliveries once a week - very nice but very small selection of fresh and dry goods. On Friday though, we stop in at the 'yarkan,' for salad makings, fruit, you know, shabbat stuff. Of course, the last week or two, I've been over buying as no Natan, and now no Gabe - got to learn how to downscale. Thank goodness Natan returns on Wed.

Our neighbor across the hall, actually is the proprietor with is brother, I believe, of the yarkan on Derekh Beit Lehem on the corner of Esther Ha'malka, but we really prefer to go to the yarkan across the street from him - also on DBL as well. He's a nice guy and it's a nice store and he always discounts me if he's there BUT they all smoke in the store, they wrap their veggies with saran in pkgs, which let's be honest is no way to buy your produce. They do have good arugula - almost always - and some nice homemade salads. The guy across the way, has more interesting berries and this week, pant, gasp, faint...LIMES.

I have waited a whole year for this moment. On Friday, as I browsed thinking of what else to buy to make sure that we wouldn't have to shop for a few days as life has been too busy (but that's another story), I saw a 'havila'/basket of green, round objects. I've been fooled by these before. They could be green lemons. I looked and sniffed - then, I asked...'ha'eem zeh limon...' I trailed off expected the answer, 'ken, limon,' and she looked and smiled and said, 'limes.' This was funny as it was immediately apparant that there's no real plural for limes in hebrew. Fine with me. I bought a whole basket and began considering my options - margaritas? mojitos? salsa? lime bars? I called Lisa Smith immediately and bought her 6, just as a taste. I came home and cut into the lime and it was a lime - I rubbed my nose in the lime, inhaled the smell and squeezed it on salad and in yogurt and on fruit but haven't done any drinking yet. Working up to it. Gili, the owner, said to expect them to be around for a while but I wasn't taking any chances and the cashier, his sister, approved. She said, people come in and say 'limes!' and then buy 3. What can you do with 3 she asked?' I agreed.

Let the party begin.

Wall of Sound

2007-07-07T20:47:00.000+03:00

I went to Shira Hadasha on Fri night and Shabbat morning this week. Friday night was particularly special as Jess came, along with a visiting friend and sister-in-law, Miriam but for myself I was struck but how happy I felt to have her there and not be alone as I was on the Shabbatot that she was in the hospital and I came without here. She was greeted with many hugs and kisses and that was nice to see as well.

This morning, I went back for more. I went, despite the 600 people (according to Ilan the guard), despite the overwhelmingly American feel with all of the visiting groups and groupies, and despite the crowding - as a member, at least I can call some of the front seats my own when I come in, a real blessing during the tour group season. I returned, for what I like to call, the 'wall of sound,' of the tefila/prayer there.

We all struggle with tefila - the good days and the bad days. The days that we should have stayed in bed and the days where it all just feels right. The good days definitely outnumber the bad days at Shira Hadasha. This again despite the at times annoying nusach/prayer melodies, or the overly long and yuh buh buh'ying tendencies to the tunes, or the feeling that there are a bunch of Welsh men singing over on the men's side on their way home from the mines. Thing is, there is nothing like the sound of so many people singing out - singing out their stress, their weeks' fatigue, their Shabbat happiness, their pleasure in the experience of the evening.

It's what I like to call, to use a coinage from the Phil Spector era of musical arrangments, the 'wall of sound.' As if we've all been crowded into a small room (we are considering the numbers), with a planned reverb or however these things are really done for our listening enjoyment. Everyone sings, hums, vocalizes, harmonizes and somehow, magically it almost seems, it all words. Invevitably, I feel 'farklempt.' It's sort of like being at a show and feeling weepy when everyone claps at the end - it's the swelling of emotion, all those good feelings and bonhommie that almost brings me to my knees. Sometimes I think, I'm just a shameless wimp, trained like Pavlov's dog to cry at AT&T commercials and other times I allow myself the feeling of emotion, so strange it seems after years of 'dry davening moments.' Maybe they're on to something here, this post-modern version of hasidism, this joyful take on the mundane and commonplace, this happy desire to sing their hearts out week in and week out, even if they need to come up with some new melodies.

My mother and my brother may scoff at it (don't be offended when you read this, Mom). It's too long, they get hungry, why do all this singing anyway? If we went to the local shul, we'd be home already. All of this may be true but once you open yourself up to the experience, it's quite enticing and the next thing you know you're, heaven forfend, clapping your hands and swaying in the aisles. Can closing your eyes and dancing ecstatically be far behind? Beer does lead to heroin at Shira Hadasha.

Shavua tov.

Sick Bay

2007-06-20T16:11:00.000+03:00

I've learned so much over the past year but in particular I've learned my way around the local hospitals. Most recently, Jess spent 2 1/2 weeks at 'Hotel Hadassah,' a lovely environment, replete with bad lighting, mediocre food (but a decent selection of food in the, yes, mall near the parking lot), and even worse accomodations (try 5 in a room, with the 5th kind of parked by the window). The care was good, actually decent nursing care and reasonably pleasant floor doctors, except for a few that were brusque and lacked bedside manner.

But by comparison, where Sarah had her heart surgery was downright luxurious - little vases with flowers on your breakfast tray, 2 in a room with pleasant looking sheets although no designer hospital gowns. Sarah went the 'private route' for her surgery, an increasingly popular method for people with good agreements with her 'kupat holim'/medical plan. She had to cover various aspects of the surgery, like the cost of the valve but not the surgical fee (go figure) and decided that she wanted a quieter environment and what was ultimately, excellent care post-surgically. Jess, already a patient of this well-regarded fertility specialist at Hadassah Ein Karem, a leader in such care, ended up there because she was having an unexpected complication and it wasn't an 'elective' situation like Sarah. Not that Sarah wanted to have a valve replacement and double bypass but she had a minute to decide on where and when - within a range of a few days.

Hadassah did have a less, 'fah'kneytched'/very religious feeling then Sha'arei Tzedek, where I've also spend lots of time this year with my Father (from his hospitalization to his chemo Sundays). Demographic at both hospitals is everyone - religious, secular, Arab, Jew but Sha'arei Tzedek has a decidedly 'haredi/ultra relig' feel because it's more centrally located to downtown. Both hospitals (HadassahEK and ST) have shuls with minyanim at all hours of the day, kosher food, Jews walking around giving out sandwiches to family members spending hours at the hospital or offering meals on Shabbat to all who need - separate seating only or course - and the requisite rabbinical types appearing with a few words to the ailing person and his/her family.

I decided though, that the hospital took on a particular air over Shabbat. For those who have read Harry Potter, I was reminded of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Friday night, while Jessica was being tortured by a variety of well-meaning doctors, I noted the presence of full families - all haredi - for Shabbat at the hospital. As this was a women's floor, there were many women on bedrest due to pregnancy complications. In Jessica's room, earlier in the week, there were the 2 haredi women who yelled across the room to each other in Yiddush much of the day and didn't deign to speak to anyone else. One of those women had an older daughter with her on a different day, with baby in tow, stroller, stuff - this in the 5'er room - for the whole day! Hospitals are not places for babies but it's just the way it's done here. There was the guy in his full Shabbat regalia - long coat, fancy hat, and such, singing down the hallway, as well as the young, not more than 10, year old girl, clearly left in the hospital overnight to keep her mother company and assist in whatever way she could. She mostly walked around goggle eyed, especially near Jess's room as she was the hot ticket with the most action on Fri night that week. She also always caught me on the telephone, as I was most of the weekend with nervous family members checking in, as if to make sure that I knew that she had seen me speaking on the telephone on Shabbat. There was the guy who showed up to make kiddush on Fri night, and havdalah on Saturday night - albeit it a bit late for the rest of us who had already decided that Shabbat (probably the longest one in my life) was over. It was truly a bizarre place.

Today we walked out of there - Jess, a newly freed woman - and it was a good feeling and I'd like to hope that this is a pause, a breather, from the hospital gigs of late. My Dad is holding his own for the moment - back on chemo but looks alright despite being easily fatigued - so, we attempt to go back to normal over here.

As Seen on Janglo

2007-06-20T10:21:00.000+03:00

Can't tell if this is real or not. Could be real or could be making fun of the whole Janglo problem and Jerusalem - people with too much time on their hands and this sort of religious/frugal/let's just share all we have attitude. Normally these ads even have prices of a few shekels for this or that. I sound mean but it can be surprising. On the other hand, Janglo is where we've gone to find all sorts of things like the 5th season of 24 which we just went and drove to Ma'alei Adumim for. But I confess it was a lovely drive and we visited an interesting little health food store that I think you'll be hearing more about if you read The Honey. Read on...

I have the following items which i don't need:

1. 15" monitor: You can see something but it's not clear enough to use
for work. It can probably be fixed by a technician.

2. Plastic case for 3 x 5.25" floppies.

3. Stainless steel shoe horn

4. Dust covers for a keyboard. Other dust covers still in the bag. I
think they're for a computer, maybe screen as well.

5. Mini-LED torch, keyring size. Works but the plastic casing is ripped.

6. Cloth for cleaning galsses.

7. String that people attach to their glasses to hang them round their neck.

8. Men's watch. I can't remember if it works or not but the light
brown strap is in good condition.

9. Vanish stick. Pre-wash stain remover. Not much left.

10. Do people still use handkerchiefs? I have 7 or 8 (off-)white men's
handkerchiefs to give away.

11. Two self-adhesive suede heel grips.

Pick-up Rechavia-Katamon, preferably Friday morning.
E-mail for more info.

Foodie Adventure

2007-06-03T07:43:00.000+03:00

Now I know what it means to 'have a press pass,' or feel like you do. For a future Honey, I wanted to interview Moshe Basson, the charismatic chef of the recently reopened Eucalyptus, in downtown Jerusalem. Basson, is the Steve Brill of Israel. If you don't Wildman Brill, he's the guy you'll notice foraging in Central and Prospect Parks, bringing home delicacies such as burdock root, ginko berries (yes, I did this once but only had to go outside 409 Pacific to forage), sarsparilla bark, dandelion greens, etc. Basson, who is also a member of Chefs for Peace and is part of group of local chefs starting up a Slow Food chapter here in Israel, is someone who lives and breathes ancient cuisine as well as the importance of knowing, eating and ensuring the sustainability of local, indigenous plants.

I called the restaurant and in typical fashion, when I listened to the machine, got both the new phone number and Basson's cellphone number - which I called. I told him that I was a writer for an internet based e-newsletter and I was curious to talk with him about reopening, his new menu, what he's been doing, etc. He invited me to come to the restaurant with a 'ben zug'/partner at 7:30. I informed Ira that we had a gig for some tastes of this and that, shouldn't take long - he had a gig with Len Wasserman and a friend for a beer night downtown.

We arrived. Empty restaurant. Smiling staff. Nice space on Horkonos in the Russian Compound area. We sit, then move as we're told we'll need a bigger table for all the plates. Moshe, introduces himself to us shortly after we arrive and proceeds to wine, dine and educate us over the next 3 hours of eating. I haven't spent this long at dinner since a meal many years ago with Ralph and Lisa at the De Puys Canal House, where we ate and ate and ate and then staggered back to the Thunderbolt (or something like that) Motel to sleep off the excess of delicious food. We started with a big fresh laffa style pita with some assorted salads. Essentially fresher, more sophisticated versions of the regular stuff. Next, a trio of soups - a fab lemony red lentil, tomato with min (refreshing and good) and Moshe's specialty grain, 'geresh ha'carmel' in soup form - a young spring wheat, served in the spring as well as the following year, once it's been dried (then it has a slightly smokey taste). We punctuated our eating with lengthy discussions of different herbs and grains and Ira and I sniffed and tasted and nibbled at the many things that Moshe showed us. Moshe was suitably impressed at our ability to recognize certain plants and recognized us for the foodies that we are. The meal continued with some different salads which we only nibbled at, knowing there was more ahead - particularly liked his take on taboule and this very creamy, whipped kind of potato salad. Everything is always beautifully seasoned with lots of fresh herbs.

When Moshe, or his talented sous chef, Sofyan, cook, people talk about food, it's culinary and emotional history as well as the political history of this part of the wold. Moshe has cooked with Jews and Arabs alike and feels that knives should be used for chopping, not killing. That might sound simplistic but for a guy of his background (Iraqi), it's revolutionary. He has friends on both sides of the fence and they are people who care about the land and its future and want to preserve the plants, grains and foods of the people of this part of the world - proper stewardship even in the face of war. Moshe said that he has contacts who show up at his kitchen bearing their unusual offerings - ancient grains and plants cultivated all over the country that Moshe enjoys using in his cuisine.

We kept eating through a lamb course - lamb and vegetables topped with a pastry, Moshe's signature dish of figs stuffed with chicken in a tamarind (tamar hindi) sauce and some beef with eggplant that was meltingly tender and lovely. We tasted his Magluba - a one-dish casserole, served with great fanfare, of chicken, vegetables and rice. Sephardic hamin/cholent, but thankfully not as abused as the Ashkenazic variety. Eventually, too stuffed to take another bite, we finished with a simple semolina cake with tahini and honey decoratively arranged on the plate and Moshe's homemade liquors. It was all wonderful, including the moment where Moshe went across the street to the parking lot to show me local caper berries and how they grow everywhere - I've since found them on my way to shul.

We took Barat Ellman and Jay Golan back there last week and they as well enjoyed a meal and the attendant food education. We didn't eat as much but we let Sofyan (who was behind the stove that night), choose the menu and set the pace until we told him we'd had it and then finished with a sahlab pudding which was great and a bit of liqueur.

He's only been reopened a couple of months but if you're going to be in town, make time for Moshe and tell him that Beth sent you.

Wings - We got wings

2007-06-03T06:56:00.000+03:00

There are retarded people here in Israel. They're on the street, in the parks, out in groups, on their own. I see a guy regularly when I go to Shira Hadasha. He keeps, Ilan, the guard, company. There's a young woman who works at Aroma at the Hadar Mall and a few people at the local supermarket. Whether or not attitudes to the retarded here are perfect or not (as noted in an articles from today's Haaretz - read your link), at least people with disabilities are visible. I've mentioned this before but I guess I still find it amazing after the invisibility of life in NY for the special needs community.

As seen on The Honey (just scroll down that issue a bit), we noted a cultural offering last week at Ha'maabada/The Lab, a local performing arts joint - actually, really not a joint. A cool space, lovely for smaller venues and a nice bar/cafe right outside with beer on tap and of course, espresso. We went to see, Amutat Kna'fay'im/Wings, a theatrical performance by disabled adults about their lives and their work - in a spoon factory. I don't know what we were expecting, really, but despite some last minute excitment (Jessica needed to be stitched and glued in 2 fingers because she spaced out while cutting watermelon but it should be added that she had 1/2 of Danie's TRY students at a barbecue at home. Of course, Daniel couldn't leave because of the TRY students so Ira, who loves blood, had to take her to the local emergency clinic - he said he didn't look), we managed to get there - me, Lisa Smith and Ira (who was a bit late).

Full house, included 2 other families that we know locally with children with special needs and Akiva's principal from Feuerstein, who really looks like a smurf. Stage was set, lighting came on and we were absolutely held in thrall for the next hour or so. About 18 adults - some with physical disablities, some with emotional and all appeared to be developmentally delayed in one way or the other. They spoke, they danced, they talked of their lives - their wishes, hopes and dreams. The good thing was that it wasn't sweet - in some cases, especially the women, it was downright angry. Two women spoke of being treated poorly on the street by others, especially men, and one spoke of being taken advantage sexually by men in her neighborhood. Most of the women spoke wistfully of wanting to have homes, families and their was a poignant but well staged section of most of the women, veiled, dressed in elements of bridal finery, pretending to be brides.

Everyone expressed some kind of thought, feeling or opinion - some actors were harder to understand than others but they all had something to say and it was cool to watch the actors work together, encourage each other and clearly show how they knew what they were doing. It was a well-rehearsed and well thought out piece and we were all impressed and excited with the evening.

We clapped and cheered and the actors bowed and smiled and cheered for themselves. The performance was free, which surprised us as we all thought it was good theater, better than alot of 'paid' theater that we've seen - it was not about "let's go see the retarded people and clap for them."

Natan's Big Adventure

2007-05-28T07:47:00.000+03:00

I dropped Natan and Ira off downtown yesterday morning at about 8:30am. I was on my way to Rosh Ha'ayin for a day with Sarah and they were off to find the 'lishkat gee'yoos' or local draft office. They found it and Ira abandoned Natan, our firstborn, to his biggest adventure yet here - the start of his potential initiation into the army. Don't get too worried yet. They have to meet him, talk to him, decide his status physically and such. As well, nothing happens until after he graduates high school and is 18 and even then, there are all sorts of ways that kids defer and do volunteer work for a year or sometimes are offered opps to study in college as a pre-army function and then they go in when they are older. (We've studied the colored brochure and have determined such as this. We've also asked around and spoken to cousins and other kids who've just finished in order to understand some of the process.)

Natan should tell the story but I will relate some of his adventures. First he tried to figure out what the first soldier, who was a mumbler (never good when you're not fluent in the mumbled language) was saying. Eventually, the guy yelled at him that he should enter the first door on the left. Natan did so. He sat down upon seeing other guys and girls around. Then he figured out that he needed to show his teudat zehut (id card) to get the process moving. He did so and received the all important swipe card for the day. He swiped his way through the next few stations - the first interview station (a bit of social history). What does this mean 'you were homeschooled?' This took some time and bureaucratic confusion as Israel is a place that loves certificates and ratings. Natan eventually offered that he'd taken the SAT last year before we left - they liked this and we will send the scores although I'd rather he would have offered to take a GED and send them the scores since all they seemed to care about was something that would suggest that he can finish HS since he can't do a full set of bagruyot (the sort of matric exams that you do here at the end of high school - he's doing some but too hard to do all given language and newness). She tested out his hebrew which Natan said was relatively successful until they got to the dictation section.

Next, the physical exams. Height, weight - all that jazz. When Natan was explained the day by various cousins and extended cousins (Daniel's sisters kids), everyone quickly says, 'and then, you have to drop your pants for the doctor.' As promised, he survived the experience. There was some discussion about his eyesight but we don't really understand it all - just that he has some sort of rating because of his correction (can't be a pilot - oh well).

After that, some sort of test administered on the computer. Sort of a logic and spatial thinking test. Thankfully, one could choose which language to take it in. He took it in Eng and said that the first half was unpleasant but the second was better. He thinks that the Hebrew lang takers had a longer test.

Finally (I think this was the final thing), the big army interview. Natan said this was quite thorough. Your background, family life, sibs and such (Akiva and responsibilities to him - how do you feel about that?), school again (or lack thereof). Army 'what would you do in the army?' Natan, 'I don't really know as I don't know enough about what I can do. I would like to be able to use my English skills as they are good and I like computers and I like to sing (there is an army choir of course).' 'Do you want combat?' Natan, good boy, answered, 'no.' 'If you got combat, how would you feel?' Natan, 'I would make the best of it because it's 3 years and might as well make it work but would prefer not.' Army, 'overal any problems?' Natan, 'when my parents decided to move, I knew it would mean the army an didn't know how I felt about it. I wish that Israel didn't have to have an army but as it does, I am prepared to give service to the country - leet'rom shey'rut la'medinah.'

Here's the kicker. He did it all in Hebrew except for the doctor who spoke to him in Eng and Natan decided that if that's what he wanted...
Natan was supposed to have a soldier who's attached to his school (this, painstakingly arranged by his cousin, Leut. Dena, recently out of the army but this was her job in the army) accompany him and help him thru the day, especially language-wise but he didn't show and as Natan said, 'I would have called Yuval if I really needed him.'

I think that I'm most pleased about that. He was able to understand and be understood and advocate himself and answer pleasantly and honestly how he felt and hopefully they saw him for who he is - a good and responsible lad, who's unsure about the whole thing but reasonably open and positive. And don't think that's so unusual. Many kids feel unsure about the whole thing, even if they've grown up here. Natan was lucky that on Shabbat afternoon, he got some good advice from Eliav and Adin Laufer (Daniel's nephews), about how to handle the day. 'Be positive,' they said, 'don't give one word answers,' and 'tell them a bit about yourself, so they see you're normal, that's what they're looking to see.'

In the end, we don't know Natan's number - meaning, what his physical profile is which does affect where he might end up. Not sure if he was told it and missed it or if he'll find that out later. I guess we'll have to ask around.

That the whole thing is wierd and disturbing is a separate matter. That it might make sense to do something in your life between high achool and college is a good idea, I think. That it needs to be something like this? A different problem entirely. That the world is crazy, that the politics here are lunatic, that Gaza is imploding and nothing else seems that great - all true. Do I want my kid out in that mess? Not particularly. Don't want my kid to be fodder for the next incompetent war that the gov't decides to wage as they did last summer. Don't want my kid to be lost to a kidnapping in Lebanon or Gaza. That's a pain that I can't imagine.

I definitely have a more cynical attitude to the whole army thing then my father that is, but you can't deny the fact that these overgrown children are sacrificing alot in order to do this and that is something to think about. Will try not to think about it too much over the next year or so.

Hello out there

2007-05-26T22:05:00.000+03:00

I know it's been ages since I've blogged ...
Lunch today was an 'Ashkenazic picnic,' or as Iris and Steve Katzner would put it, 'Jewish camping'. That is, first we decided to have a picnic. It was Jessica's idea and it was in order to remove the onus of more cooking and preparing after having just cooked and prepared for Shavuot. I agreed with alacrity. We'd all show up with some salads and stuff in tow and there we'd have it a meal. Ten minutes later, Jess called back. It will be too hot to picnic - the hunt for a suitably shady spot that wasn't too far a walking distance for all included - Jess and Daniel, Miriam and Peretz and kids (Daniel's sister and family), Elise Bernhardt (visiting dignitary from Bklyn) and Lisa and Alan and small children. We discuss various places to picnic and I suggest 'picnicking' on our mirpeset/porch, which is generally shady in the afternoon. This idea is immediately seized upon as the perfect idea. Noa, Miriam and Peretz's youngest, decides to actually have a picnic with friends on real grass and doesn't join us and the rest come to eat on plastic by us. Too many desserts but altogether a good meal.

Daniel told a good story today. He just finished the month or 'shloshim' - the 30 days of initial morning after the death of his father, Leo. He's been looking kind of 'bivak'sin,' or unkempt, that is, in need of a haircut and beard trim. He read that while he's allowed to get a cut after shloshim, he should wait until someone tells him that he should get a cut. He bumps into his regular haircutter in the neighborhood and proceeds to tell him this story. Eitan, the haircutter, said, "Daniel, you must get a haircut immediately." Daniel, wanting to make sure he hasn't too overstretched his bounds, responds that he really has to mean it. Eitan answers, "And I've made you an appointment for tomorrow at 8:30am." Daniel thanks Eitan and arrives the following day for his much anticipated haircut. Eitan cuts his hair and when Daniel goes to pay him, refuses him and said, "I invited you...we're a nation of customs." This from the secular hairdresser. One of those Israeli moments.

Watched Gabe play baseball on his team on Friday. Drove a bunch of boys out to Givat Zeev, a bit outside Jerusalem, sat in the blazing sun for 2, almost 3 hours, reading, watching, commenting (I did take on break to walk into town and get a cold drink and find a place to go the bathroom) and enjoying the chitchat in Hebrew and English between the boys as they alternately supported and occasionally berated each other, in good humored fashion, throughout the afternoon.

Lag Ba'omer Prep

2007-05-04T18:25:00.000+03:00

Urchins walking through the neighborhood, pushing grocery wagons laden with debris, bits of wood probably illegally purveyed. Heard in the elevator of Super Sol Deal today - "Yeah, the kids take the wagons and turn them over and use it for mangal/barbecue." Kids arriving in the Super Sol to buy potatoes (traditionally roasted and eaten) and marshmallows (later addition) and whatever else they need for making a bonfire, staying up all night (you need blankets and sleeping bags) and not going hungry of course.

On Yom Ha'atzmaut, the country smells of mangal, on Lag Ba'omer, of smoke. Natan, much to his surprise, has been invited to a bonfire locally, with his group of lady friends (there are guys too). One girl asked him if he knew any hot guys and could he bring some along? Natan invited his friend, Natan from school but unclear if he's coming. Gabe will hang with cousin Noam and we'll check out some of the local action together and Elisheva, who's off for the evening will come to hang out and eat ice cream.

I'll give the full report when everyone wakes up on Sunday, which is of course a day off from school, except for Akiva.

Acid Rain

2007-05-04T08:48:00.000+03:00

It's not acid rain but it's dirty rain. First, the weather gets heavy feeling. Sort of humid but not quite because there's this dryness to the air, an intense heaviness mixed with a sense of dirt particles floating in front of you. The sky is grey with a hint of yellow. You drink and drink and drink and your eyes are dry and your nose is dry and your skin feels papery dry. It's May, so you're not expecting rain but then it comes, 3 minutes or in my case, on the way down the hill from Jerusalem, it pours for about 5-7 minutes, big raindrops, that leave the windowshields and the car and my nice, clean laundry drying out on the mirpeset, sort of spotted with brown dirt.

Then it dries up in a minute, the earth takes a quick drink, and all returns to normal dry state - except you need to go to the car wash.

First Funeral

2007-04-25T23:23:00.000+03:00

Daniel's father, Leo, died on Monday night, erev Yom Ha'atzmaut. He died after a grueling illness. Essentially 12 years lost to a combination of Alzheimer's and a Parkinson's like combination. He was a survivor of the Holocaust, who fortunately was able to get out of Czechoslovakia and escape through Europe and eventually reach the US with his mother and sister. They were eventually reunited with his father. He spoke eight languages but spoke virtually nothing for the last two years. He was an academician, a Zionist and a liberal and believer in Israel, peace and the Jewish people. He raised four nice children but was denied a decent retirement (let alone a pleasant aging) with his wife of 55 years, Rita.

Rita, by the way, is one of Akiva's favorite people. They've bonded over Curious George, The Little Red Lighthouse and Shabbat dinners at Jessica and Daniel's. He went right over to her (he knows a Grandma when he sees one), sat on her lap and they became friends.

This was our first funeral in Israel. A few surprises. It's informal, of course. No suits, no black dresses, not alot of ceremony. It was held in the Sephardic hall as the family was told that they would be more comfortable with men and women standing (no seats except for a few around the side) together and with women speaking or even worse, gasp, helping to carry the body at the end.

Ah, the body. Wrapped in a tallit, lying on a stretcher of sorts. NO CASKET. Sort of drives home the fact that it is a body that is being buried. He looked so small and indeed he was never a big person while living (I only interacted with Leo Laufer when Jess and Daniel got married but he wasn't able to respond) but in death, he seemed even smaller.

People spoke. We stood. More people spoke. We stood some more. It was good even though it was sad. Daniel and his brother, Michael, spoke of a man that I don't know, even his grandchildren barely know (except for the oldest two who are 23 and 21 respectively) and most assembled knew through his family - through stories and memories. I was reminded of the children's book, written by Mem Fox with wonderful illstrations by Julie Vivas called, Wilfred Gordon Mcdonald Partridge which is a great book that tells of the friendship between the aforementioned WGMP and his neighbors at the Old Folks Home next to his house. He's friends with a few of the residents and in particular likes Miss Nancy because she has four names, just like him (I can't remember the names though). Miss Nancy is spoken about sadly because she has "lost her memories." WGMP collects some of his favorite things and brings them to Miss Nancy and she looks at them and remembers things from her childhood and is happy because WGMP helped her "find her memories."

Burial was down the hill. Won't discuss all the particulars except that there was a 21 gun salute of a sorts as nearby there were people doing some target practice for "mishmar ezrachi/civilian patrol."

It was a good funeral.

Yom this and Yom that

2007-04-23T22:45:00.000+03:00

It's been busy. Yom Ha'shoah - Holocaust Memorial Day. Yom Ha'zi'karon - Memorial Day. Yom Ha'atzmaut - Independance Day. As I write this, the music playing somewhere live in the neighborhood is filtering in - Yom Ha'atzmaut, Moroccan style with oud music and trilling vocals and that particular kind of male tenor that you always here in Middle Eastern music of this variety. Ira and the big boys just left for town - there are live concerts, folk dancing, and fun of all sorts to be seen and had and they decided to check out the fun. I'm home with Akiva.

It's basically one 'tekes'/ceremony after another for about a week and a half. There are the official State ones, school ones, neighborhood ones and tonight, a program at Shira Hadasha. Minha services at 6:15, followed by a Yom Ha'zi'karon service - it was lovely. Poems and readings with musical accompaniment and most grueling, people stood and remembered names of people they knew (family and friend and extended) who had been killed in wars or terrorist activities and when they died. It was quite poignant to have people stand and remember a friend or cousin who was killed in '67 and '73 and even one woman who remembered a brother killed in '48. I thought about my friend Tzippi, who's fiance was killed in '82 in Lebanon, and Michael Levin, killed this past summer in Lebanon. Levin, was a Ramah Poconos boy, a friend of my nephew Benjy. He was featured in a DVD made by another Ramahnik, Sally Mitlas, and the DVD was shown on Israeli TV tonight. Levin was what's called a lone soldier as his parents and sibs are back in America and he was here on his own as a citizen and soldier. His mother, in Israel for the ceremony at Har Herzl - the military cemetary in J'lem, said that when they came in for his funeral last summer, they expected a small group, as they don't have alot of family here and when they pulled up at the cemetary they saw many people and wondered if there were alot of burials that day. All those people were there for Michael. They didn't know him but they wanted to pay their respects to this guy, here alone, without his family, giving everything to the country - his life.

What's interesting is that at the end of the service, we morphed into Yom Ha'atzmaut and did a festive Ma'ariv service, complete with Hallel and song and happiness and it felt good. It felt really good. I sang and was happy.
Chag Sameach.

Food of the Week

2007-04-21T22:54:00.000+03:00

It's been an interesting food week.
Following our truffle adventures - we had truffle omeltets and truffle toasts (first you clean them, peel them and slice thinly) and we enjoyed the notion of eating the truffles but they weren't the all encompassing experience that we had hoped for.
Last Tuesday, I had a meeting - yes me, a meeting - with Jess and Hadass (Honey partner in Tel Aviv) at the port in Tel Aviv, or in hebrew, the 'Namal.' Very cool area. Wooden boardwalk, laid out in curves, with inset sand circle, waves splashing over the side, cafes with pillowed chaises and chairs to while a way some time, nursing a drink. A cross between South St Seaport, but better, and Hudson River Park. Hadass claims that it's ok during the week but that on weekends, when the Israeli equivalent to the 'Bridge and Tunnel' crowd shows up, the 'khu'bat'im' (from Holon and Bat Yam) that it's no fun.

Jess was writing about the company, Comme Il Faut, owned by a woman, run by women, with a feminist drive and direction to the company. The have a space down at the Namal, called 'Bayit Ba'namal,' and it comprises stores, spa (no guys allowed) and cafe with an array of nice looking dishes, that thank goodness don't have the usual look of Israeli menus, at least not what's here in J'lem.
We sat, at a lovely wooden table, umbrella gently shading us from the Tel Aviv haze, and I ate the loveliest salad - it wasn't enouph for the price and the enjoyment factor but that's a separate matter. It was buckwheat (not my mother's buckwheat, otherwise known as kasha and not even served with bowties or browned onions) but a paler and larger, grained variety. It was perfectly cooked and served with wilted greens of some sort (that I have yet to find in this country - meaning interesting greens to cook with other than 'alei selek' which translates to beet greens, but which look alot like swiss chard but don't taste like chard) and a lovely array of wild mushrooms, simply seared and served on top of the grains, with a dollop of sour cream on the side. I pooh poohed the sour cream but it was a nice counterpoint to the salad, although not completely necessary. We finished the meal with an iced cappucino/caffe hafuch, really nicely done and creamy and almost like iced coffee as I know it.

I decided to recreate this meal with some additions for Friday night. We had visitors coming; Jeremy Slawin, 17 year old son of good frinds in Houston, Tx. Jeremy was coming on "March of the Living," and spending Shabbat with us. We also had a family of 6 coming as well - David and Robyn (both in Israel for many years) and their 4 kids (the 2 oldest are 17 year old twins and Natan is marginally friendly with them). Miryam W visiting with us, came with me to the shuk on Wednesday and we got some of the critical ingredients and I did a look-see of what I could get in order to make a reasonable do of the dish. After breakfast at my favorite cafe - she had brioche and I had a sandwich - we both had some excellent coffee - we took a walk around checking out the mushroom situation. I found buckwheat and here's what I learned (this, after I came home and read up on buckwheat). I learned that there's buckwheat and there's kasha. Kasha, is that brown stuff, essentially very toasted and slightly processed in terms of size of grain, buckwheat. Buckwheat, is lighter in color and larger in grain and the color of pearled barley. It cooks up fluffier and while retaining some of the earthiness of it's brother, kasha, has a lighter taste. I bought the light stuff on a hunch that it might be more of what I wanted. I hit real pay dirt with the mushrooms. We walked around and then stopped at a guy in the covered shuk, who was selling truffles and other interesting fungi. He had portobellos (we bought some of those), fresh oyster mushrooms (large and gorgeous, we bought those too) and fresh porcini mushrooms. I'd never eaten fresh porcini and they were a revelation - beautifully tinged with coral pink and quite lovely in size and shape. Quite different from their dried cousins. It was VERY expensive for one little package, but you only live once. The proprietor and I had a long chat about how to cook the 'shrooms, what order to cook them and what to add to them. He suggested lemon grass. I said how, I'd never seen any in Israel. He motioned me over to his fridge where he pulled out some lemon grass. I almost kissed him. Then, he suggested fresh garlic to chop on top. I hear you thinking to yourself, "well, garlic, that's nothing special." But, here in Israel, it's fresh garlic season. Meaning, fresh garlic, hard and juicy and garlicky and not dried and old. Fresh garlic everywhere and hanging and drying in the shuk on braided greens, perfuming the air with it's pungent aroma. I bought some. I already had some at home but didn't want to disappoint him. I also inquired after baby spinach and he again motioned to his fridge. I bought a nice pkge of greens. It wasn't baby spinach as I know it but it was better than the spinach that I tried to make wilted spinach salad with last week. I finished up my shopping trip with some other goodies - some excellent olives, fresh almonds (sort of like fiddlehead greens with a fuzzy exterior), a nice piece of cheese and came home pumped about my recipe.

Thursday we all cooked a bit. Assembled the buckwheat, made roasted sweet potatoes to satisfy those who might be scared off by buckwheat, cooked a white bean and tomato gratin that's really easy and tasty too and Natan made what turned out to be an excellent rice pudding cake. Essentially, arborio rice (what you use to make risotto), cooked with milk and combined with some sweetener, eggs, dried fruit and toasted nuts and baked into a lovely and light cake of a sorts. Ira and I and Natan (Gabe was playing baseball), sat down and ate some beans at about 10 and enjoyed the good smells coming out of the kitchen.

Friday, another trip to the shuk. Alan Salzberg called, "would we go out for breakfast?" He agreed to a shuk bkfast - Ira and Alan had a laffa feta (rolled toasted laffa sandwich with feta, olives, onions and tomatoes, Miryam had a brioche and I had a yoghurt with granola and fruit. Needless to say, we all had coffee. After bkfst, Alan gave us an hour. Picked up fresh salmon - this to satisfy all carnivores and besides, I thought that the salmon would complement the buckwheat, some herbs and teas - found a great herb guy who has his own real, powdered sahlab (orchid root). Next time. Bought greens, breads and some cookies and fruit. Stopped by the cheese guy and got goat sour cream (quite nice) and fresh farmer cheese (Ira says too sweet but I like it) and garlic butter (well, it looked so lovely and Gabe has been lapping it up) and a nice bottle of wine - look for red wines by Yatir Winery, quite good. We had drunk a bottle of Yatir on Wed night, when Miryam treated us to a fabbo dinner at "Tzachko" which is a great restaurant in the Iraqi section of the shuk and just happens to be owned by the same guy who runs the cafe that I love and who just happens to be the head of the shuk. You may not have known that the shuk has a director - 'yoshev rosh' but it does.

Went home and did final prep work. Poached the salmon in a light court bouillion (sp?), did a careful mushroom saute and in a sep pan, greens saute. Then, went to the pool and had a good swim and came home and went to shul at Shira Hadasha for some long-winded singing.

Great dinner. Good company. Great food.

Passover Report

2007-04-08T16:15:00.000+03:00

Was planning on cranking about politics, my increasing unhappiness with everything that goes on in this country, from the settlers moving into a building in Hebron, to the disturbing story of a baby who didn't make it past a checkpoint to the hospital without wheezing to death while waiting for his paperwork to be checked, from Katzav receiving a new rape indictment, to the 3 soldiers still missing and not yet returned to their families, to my feeling that peace is so insurmountable, what am I doing here? But, I digress from my real annoyances of the day.

Cleaning, shopping and cooking. Where's all that extra time I anticpated from less yomtov and more hol hamoed? Swallowed up by entertaining - Wed night and Thurs night of last week, preparing for Shabbat with requisite honored guest of my cousin, Barbara, from the US, to more cooking on Saturday night because yomtov was approaching again, to cleaning today because more guests are coming - niece Helaina and an ever-changing cast of her friends, although I turned her down on 2 more friends at the last minute because I just couldn't face the laundry after they leave but did offer to feed them but them seem to have gone elsewhere, and cousin Rachel Brodie with husband, Adam Weisberg and 2 girls but they'll be with friends tomorrow so main cooking is for tonight but stillllll.....that meant food - yes, I'm sure you all want to know. Truth is I cooked with what I had on hand last night and this morning, although Ira did make a run to the shuk to replenish empty stores - no one should go hungry and is at the makolet/bodega right now getting eggs and milk and whatever else we still forgot.

Cooked with celery, carrots, fennel, onions/garlic, potatoes, sweet pots and turnips. First a nice soup, then sauteed veggies with quinoa, fresh salmon casserole with veggies and pear/apple crisp for dessert. That does not include cookies from the freezer that I saved for 2nd yomtov and the stuffed veggies that we'll do now - little dumpling zucchini's and peppers with quinoa and RICE (yes, we're offering rice to those infidels that will eat it on Pesach). Ira picked up, big excitement, negev truffles at the shuk - 150nis a kilo and he bought a quarter of a kilo and tomorrow will make truffle matza brie or truffle omelets or truffle something - must check the recent article in Ha'aretz about truffle ideas and preparation for local truffles. Who'd thunk it? And, hey, more affordable than in America where I've never bought them.

I'm not complaining enouph. I sound like I'm enjoying it. Well, it is Gabe's b-day but he's gone. Fourteen years old. Not even a Bar Mitzvah boy anymore. He went to Aunt Sarah for yomtov - for the purpose of playing basketball with Noam. That's good.

Hag Sameach.

Pesach Oddities Noticed

2007-04-02T14:17:00.000+03:00

Seen on Janglo, the local listserv which has answers on anything from selling new furniture, finding where to buy this and that to...

"ADVICE: where you can get kitniyot free mayonnaise answers

i was asked to post answers so here they are...
cheaperkol on kanfei nesharim
shefa shuk in the rav shefa mall in romema
shaarei ezra on rechov bar ilan
assorted makolets in bayit vegan
and someone said emek refaim but did not say what store so i am
assuming super hamoshava."

I am so grateful to this person, who clearly has too much time on their hand, like many jangloites for solving this important problem.

Actually, the kitniyot issue - this is related to the age old question of Passover? Where are your parents from and their families and did they eat legumes and rice on Passover? If you were lucky, your parents weren't from Eastern Europe (everyone's were of course, at least that I knew) and we all didn't eat kitniyot on Passover, meaning no rice, no beans, no humous, and in later more stringent years, no peanut, soy or corn oil, let alone anything that had any suspect ingredient realated to the list. Funny thing, kitniyot do not qualify as hametz/leavened foods, merely as kitniyot and moreover, while you shouldn't prepare them for someone who doesn't eat them, if you cook rice for yourself if it's your tradition, you do not 'treyf' up your pots and can still prepare non-rice and bean dishes for others who don't eat rice and beans and such.

Still, shopping here is an adventure in avoiding kitniyot or allowing them in small ways - soy oil, margarine with soy oil, or prepared mustard (made from the mustard seed which is considered kitnioyot), or milkys (choco pudding with whipped cream) which have something probably a questionable starch used as thickening. At a certain point, you feel like throwing up your hands - I called my friend Karyn frequently, checking in on various things. Karyn made sure that I had made haircut appointments for everyone well in advance of the last week (pre-sefirah rush), had washed my car before the final rush, and had advised me about the best oven cleaner (St Moritz but I couldn't find it), and that soy oil was considered ok, when I called in confusion from the grocery store.

"ADVICE: Kosher for Pesach Fish Food
My local pet store has some Kosher for Pesach fish food called Blood
Worms. But the ingredient list includes yeast and starch, which is of
unknown origin.

Rabbi Blumenkranz's book says it is OK to give the fish matzo meal for
a week.

Does anyone have any experience with feeding the fish matzo meal, or
does anyone know what kind of starches are in this food?

Thanks for your help. Gerti"

This defies comprehension, right? Can you imagine the digestive systmem of some poor, unsuspecting goldfish during his autopsy after Passover? Poor guy, died of acute piscatory failure, or better put, constipation or explosion due to complications thereof. I realize, that you're not supposed to have anything in your house that could be considered edible from a hametz perspective, and that includes the dried up pretzel bits and such in the car or inside the sofa, but have you ever really wanted to eat fishfood? Have you ever sprinkled fish food into the tank and thought about how you want to just take a nip of it - just to see. I mean, dog food I could see - as I fed Harry dog (the Shelanski doggy) his milk bone biscuit, I thought, hey, what's this like (not really but I could picture this more than fish food), and let's not forget the famous Honeymooner's episode of Norton and Ralph trying to market dog food, which Ralph finds delicious - and even feeds it unsuspectingly to the head bus guy (I can't remember why this happens, do fill me in if you remember), but at least dog food is a meat product with cereal and is food like and probably would keep you going if you needed to depend on it. Enough said.

Tonight, seder with Jess/Daniel and the girls, Sarah and Michael and their 3 and a friend of Benjy's, Miriam and Peretz (Daniel's sis and bro-in-law) and their 3, friends of theirs (3?), our niece, Helaina and 2 friends and I think that's it. Food will be extensive and will pay respect to all family traditions. We've made pickled veggies, roasted sweets and whites, and quinoa salad for tomorrow's lunch at Miriam's house (barbecue, I'm told). It's wierd not to be hosting and running around but certainly more relaxing than years of the past where we made 2 and thought nothing of it. We won't be drinking slivovitz though - haven't found any. Shocking, really, but bought a new bottle of Arak.

Thinking of all of you and wishing a wonderful Pesach - lots of crumbs and lots of fun.

Behind on Blogging

2007-03-26T22:45:00.000+02:00

Way behind on blogging and now I find that I seem to be missing a draft that I was working on. Sigh. I was writing about the concert that I went to last week. Chava Alberstein, patron saint of folk singing here in Israel. Prolific, talented, musical, gifted with a lovely voice and pleasant concert personality. The concert was in Tel Aviv - got lost finding the restaurant for dinner with Brother Jon and Barbara and friend of hers. Found parking and restaurant and quickly ordered and ate. Turkish food. Good stuff, fairly meaty in orientation but well executed meat stew with okra, pargiot stuffed with nuts (pargiot are sort of chicken filets made from dark meat), rice pilaf and outrageously over-roasted eggplant drowning in a sea of cream tahini. Needed turkish coffee afterwards but no time. Rushed to theater in Yaffo (why we couldn't eat in Yaffo? Jonathan hates Dr Shakshuka which I love - oh well), to the Noga Theater, home of the Russian, Gesher Theater Company. Packed house. Older, ahem, demographic for the most part. Israelis like to sing along with their performers and they sang alright, whenever they could, although Chava wasn't singing the old favorites, but newer songs from her more recent releases, and the occasional Yiddush number - Alberstein was born in Europe and emigrated to Israel in the post war period, see http://www.aviv2.com/chava/ and she feels great connection to the immigrant experience. Those of you who have some familiarity with Israeli music, will know her as the voice of the song "Lu Yehi"/Let it Be, from the Yom Kippur War in 1973.

After the concert, we all wandered around Yaffo for a while, hoping that a coffee shop would appear with a nice table for all of us out front (Sister Sarah and Michael were with us as well) but alas, we admired the new roundabout (Michael says it's a real improvement from past traffic woes of the area and it will be very lovely once they plant the trees - a roundabout, really) and then headed back for our cars. Ira and I were dropped off back at our car on the other side of town and after a refueling at Aroma, headed back up the hill.

I wanted to type out one of my fave songs that Chava sings. She sang it a cappella at the very end, after singing another big hit of hers, "Aht Chey'ru'ti"/You are my freedom. The song is called, "K'mor Tzemach Bar"/Like a Wildflower. But now, as I look at it in Hebrew, I realize that I'm no translator and it will sound stupid, so never mind. I might do better with another fave that she sang, "Perach Ha'li'lach"/Lilac Flower, a tune that wistfully hearkens back to when life was easier and simpler - our youth, perhaps?

Today, perhaps we will delay the coming of night
and not strive for the starlight
and you and I, we have all that we've asked for
without workds we know that because we love (each other).

Today, perhaps we will delay the end of our days
and not remember that there is an end to everything
This is the path, that our legs must travel/walk,
from two sides, the grass will not end (in the hebrew, it may also refer to it drying and turning to crabgrass. too late to investigate further.)

Quietly, we love because you (Lee) and I (lakh) (leelach is lilac also)
have had enough of words of this and that don't know what or how to say how beautiful is the blooming of the lilac flower.

I won't go any further but suffice to say that it's better in Hebrew. Listen to her on the web, I'm sure you can find her.

The Honey

2007-03-16T14:18:00.000+02:00

I'm an entrepreneur...again. I've been an entrepreneur - what a word - in the past; Home Catering (many of my satisfied customers may still remember some of our highlights - the lemon-poppyseed cake, spicy peanut dip, curried couscous salad), Pampered Chef (I know some of you still use your mandolins and choppers), and side venues along the way that involved cooking classes (I realize it's only a variation on the theme), and food/health workshops, and then there was the theater work with the homeschoolers but that wasn't about the money although I began to imagine that there might have been ways to develop it further but left to come here.

Late today, we sent our third version of The Honey. How exciting really, to see it come to fruition, from my discussions with Jess about different business ideas that we should experiment - stay tuned for our other ideas - to this one, a newsletter, a way of disseminating all that information on where to go, what to do, where to eat, new things to buy, here in Israel, that we always seemed to enjoy having at our fingertips. People are responding well. If you, my dear reader, have not seen it, please check out thehoneyisrael.wordpress.com and read our archives and please, let me know so that I can send you a copy. As well, please forward and recommend friends and family to subscribe (you can send me their emails with their permission) and help us build our subscriber list.

Funny thing. Who's our tech go-to-guy? Natan. He's the html man, who helps us with the layout each time and is really quite good but grumbles too much and requires too many snacks while handling layout. This must be how techie guys get a pot-belly.

Too tired to say much more. Have cooked a nice bit. Welcoming Miryam Wasserman to chez Skop/Steinberg tomorrow. Looking forward to a whiff of Bklyn.

Shabbat Shalom.

Home Again

2007-03-14T00:18:00.000+02:00

Funny as it may seem to many of you reading "over there," I did arrive back home yesterday in the late afternoon. No delays, not a bad flight overall, and was welcomed by Ira, who helped us schlepp the heavy bags to the car and upstairs (Natan came and schlepped, too). Interesting to present my Israeli passport at the passport control and this time they didn't even ask for my American one as everyone else did along the way earlier - I guess I just don't look like an Israeli. Most of the time, though, they seemed the most interested in Gabe who has aged a bit since he last took his Amer passport picture, which is 3 years old, I think.

In case you're interested, we did stop for a snack on the way home. We were on 443 and feeling somewhat peckish and there was Jonathan's favorite side of the road sahlab guy. I was looking forward to a steaming cup of sahlab but unfortunately, weather was too warm to make sahlab. I had malabi - it was really a rice pudding with cinnamon heaped on top with a slight flowery taste but still good. Ira and Gabe shared an oversized turkish boureka with cheese, hot sauce and an egg sliced and stuffed inside. We were happy the rest of the ride home.

Akiva greeted us all warmly and immediately began speaking of airplanes, airports and Brooklyn. I told him of the many people who sent hugs and hellos for him and then we went upstairs where I read him Dr. De Soto and we cuddled together as we sang Sh'ma and got him into bed, all snug and cozy.

My mattress was delighted to see me and it was nice to have Ira in bed next to me. Natan gave me a big hug but both Ira and Natan declared that it was much quieter in the house without us. I blame Gabe.

Weather could be warmer - it's stormy and windy today, but I got up late, marched around in my jammies for a while and enjoyed my jet lag, while unpacking, speaking to people, attending to business (we launch on Thursday if we solve our technical problems, cross your fingers and you can all read our email on Thursday or subscribe - I'll let you know how), even cooked a bit with the boys tonight and watched a 24 episode. Home.

Brooklyn

2007-03-04T15:07:00.000+02:00

Dear, dirty Brooklyn. We, Gabe and I, arrived late to JFK - sick passenger, airplane forced to turn around and return to Heathrow, hours on the runway, not enough water and air, 4 hours late which is not bad really, considering, Harry at the airport (how nice to be welcomed personally, even though I had claimed that we could do it on our own but we were SOOOO tired), settling in at the Shelanski's place was easy (they invented the term hospitality), an immediate hug from Ellen Shaw, Iris and Steve for a side of cow to celebrate the return (I restrained myself on the scotch for fear of falling over in my plate) and finally to bed at about midnight, or really 7am Israel time after a full 25 hours of being awake.
The first day just enjoyed the fact that the Tea Lounge is around the corner, with Ralph inside drinking tea, that we could ride the subway and visit homeschooling buddies in Windsor Terrace, and that I could see Erszi on Court St and be in town for the "frecha" store sale (LF).
Dinner at the Steins with the Olenicks, was lovely altho Gabe had reached pass out stage before I had anticipated but we managed to hold ourselves together until the end.
Bat Mitzvah #1 was as anticipated - Leah was excellent, community happy, parents and brother beaming. All was well in the world.
Press of people was intense and Lisa K and I are sure that I was taken for her by someone who engaged me in a long conversation with barely a "how is Israel," which at first I was grateful until I realized that something didn't seem right. Lisa and I have long been considered fungible so that was fine, really, once I realized. Hugged and kissed many - often twice.
Weather is manageable and not cold at all although certainly colder than J'lem.
Enjoy bumping into people on Court St in manner to which I am accustomed and have missed in J'lem but which I do as well when there, too.
No good humous to buy in the store, had to settle for inferior product but mercifully Gabe didn't complain but could be because I bought tofu turkey slices to go with.
Familiarity is only slightly marred by new stores and restaurants in 'hood and the unfortunate Starbucks on Smith St.
Am conscious of the fact that I am a vistor but know that it's not completely a normal visit.
Everyone looks lovely to me - children are bigger and more beautiful, babies have morphed into toddlers, pregnant bellies have popped out new babies, yielding pleasantly beautific fathers and nursing mothers (always pleasurable to see but I am told that nobody nurses in public which is sad as that was what I spend my life doing in the Kane St community room for so many years), and aging friends seem younger than ever.
Shul is what it always was - an annoying mix of the sacred and profane. People walking around analyzing this and that and that and this and the service rises above the same as it ever was, never to change, never to really be faster or slower, just the same. That's what makes it nice.
Davening/leading svcs reminded me that I do like to lead, have a certain skill at it, honed over the past few years, and should find myself some gigs in J'lem and not worry so much that people might not like me.
Have tried not to engage in too many political discussions and realize that I'm shifting leftward faster and faster, even tho I retain certain righter vestiges but find them harder to defend for a host of reasons - even with the threat of Iran and Syria, I remain a peacenick.
Have tried to be honest about big boys and their adjustment and the effort it all is, despite gen'l family happiness.
Purim was just too giddy for me but enjoyed a schnapps to pass the time and the sight of Meir Khatan in jeans - his first pair since the late 80's I think. Gillian said that when they went shopping at the GAP - can you picture him at the gap - he kept tugging at the waistband and saying they didn't go high enough. I will say that they looked fine on him and he was, in Sonny Bono wig and mustache and tie dyed shirt and suede vest - unrecognizable. Gill made a decent Cher but didn't push the envelope enough in costume but I imagine Bob Mackie was unavailable for a styling session.
Purim party today, then Charlie and Jo and hopefully Pammy, which will be just lovely, and then we're off to Mt Snow for some ski and snow.
Purim Sameach to all, esp those in J'lem.

Be Happy It's Adar

2007-02-26T23:45:00.000+02:00

This is the month of Adar. For those not in the know, it means that Purim is rapidly approaching. Purim is the story of the wicked Haman who sought to destroy the Jews (it's always tales of destroying the Jews) and was stopped by the beateous (of course) Queen Esther, aided by her Cousin Mordechai (but it's a close relationship...), and only inadvertently assisted by the buffoonish King Achash'vey'rosh, who really is a party animal and not interested in his kingdom but is helped to see the light by the aforementioned Queen Esther - she having been made queen after he deposed the previous Queen Vashti. The Jews are given the right to fight back against Haman's decree to kill them off. They are victorious and in the city of Shushan there is happiness and celebration. Celebration in Jewish terms means food of course and in this case, one is supposed to drink until they don't know the difference between Haman and Mordechai in the story.

Israelis like Purim. They really like Purim. At the beginning of the Jewish month of Adar, they begin the celebration. Stores open selling costumes (you're supposed to dress up and party) and other silly party paraphernalia from feather boas to silly hats to prank gifts and gags. Akiva came home last week on 2 separate occasions with indications of having had his face painted in school. The boys told of other celebratory shenanigans that they encountered during their respective days at school and ulpan. Parties are scheduled and plans made for Purim day. Here in J'lem, we are doubly blessed. We get to celebrate 2x. Basically, Purim is celebrated country wide on Sunday BUT because J'lem is a walled city - even though most don't live within the walls, J'lemites celebrate a day later on what is called Shushan Purim (the day that the Shushanites celebrated in Persia because the fighting took longer in Shushan and Shushan was a walled city - get that? whew).

Today, the big boys and I went downtown to look at Purim paraphernalia. We made some choices and then headed back to Emek Refaim (after a long stop at a local piano store but again, Natan wasn't knocked out by any of the pianos but I like the owner, who makes excellent turkish coffee each time I've gone by) for Natan's piano lesson. Gabe and I had hot chocolate (really hot choc, none of this powdered stuff for us) and a machiato respectively while waiting for Natan. Pleasantly souped up by all this caffeine, I went and picked up Natan (Gabe headed home on his own) and we walked home, stopping by a store on Derekh Beit Lehem for some gifts for my upcoming trip (assuming there's no Gen'l Strike on Wed and I actually get out of Dodge on Thurs but that's a separate problem). Hunger loomed for Natan. Our luck was with us and we stopped by Felafel Ovad (best local shack in the 'hood) for a sandwich. I wasn't eating, just picking. Natan ordered felafel with all the fixings and we stood waiting while our felafel was freshly fried. We discussed the name of the special spring operated felafel shaping tool that our guy was using but for the life of me I can't remember the name of it anymore (either could he, his cohort knew what it was called) and we enjoyed the dance of his hands as they shaped the little guys and dropped them into the sizzling oil. The 2 counter guys were in a very good mood and I noted they were pouring some wine and toasting each other. Why? Well, Guy 1 tells me that he's having a wine tasting ever since the month started. He's determining what to drink at his Purim Seudah/Festive Meal, next week. He pours for me. I taste and tell him that it's lovely and it was, but it was also rainy and cold and anything vaguely warming would have worked for me. He tells me about the winery and lets me know that if I come by tomorrow, he'll have, please g-d he adds, 24 bottles that he'll be selling at discount. I tell him that I'll send Ira for a tasting as he likes a good red as well (it was a cab blend). He makes up Natan's felafel - it's a work of art; a smear of humous, a smear of garlic spread, dab of hot sauce, a few felafel balls at the base, mid level of chopped salad and pickles and fried eggplant, more felafel, upper level of pickled onions, cabbage and chips (french fries), blob of tahini and you're good to go. Natan scarfs it down as I pay and he gives me a plastic cup of wine, covered in foil to bring home (in the rain) for Ira. Only in Israel. Only during the month of Adar.

Beer Man Here

2007-02-26T13:18:00.000+02:00

Walking home from shul with Alan Abbey from Moreshet Avraham - Conservative shul in East Talpiyot. We went because Henoch's were staying right there and coming for lunch and why walk forever to other locations as we all did the night before (Shira Hadasha, dinner in the Baka area - Henoch's at Alan and Lisa and us at Nir-David's). Alan and I were talking about beer. Turns out that he loves beer, in addition to baseball and scotch. This is not a bad combination in a person and he is a very likeable guy, as is his wife, Cheryl. Of course, Jess knows them, they are both fellow writers. I had found an article about a brewer he had featured a few months earlier. Not just any brewer, the first microbrewer here in Israel (it's a developing area). Of course, he knows the guy, a David Cohen who used to live in Park Slope (wife, Sue) and is friends with Alan and Lisa. I had already established email contact with his wife and was in the process of getting in touch with David. Alan had just been out drinking David's beer, Dancing Camel, the other night at a bar in town.

Yesterday, finally spoke to the beer man. You could tell right off the bat that this man lives, sleeps and thinks beer. He's been in Israel for 3 1/2 years and right away planned his retirement from accounting in order to take up beer making. He's still doing a bit of accounting as he doesn't imagine he'll clear a profit for some time. The beer's been in process since last year, when he opened the brewery but his first beer was only released this past August. Even so, he's gotten some good press and his beer is being poured at a variety of good bars in Tel Aviv and in other parts of the country.

He has a special etrog beer coming out. Yes, it's Sukkot influenced but as David says, it takes a few months to make the beer so we'll enjoy it in the spring. As well, they have a special Purim release coming out - high alcohol content in an Ice Beer (I learned all about the first Ice Beers, ask me if you are really interested), for all those really looking to enjoy their Purim. David and I have plans to meet and taste some beers, discuss scotch and why he likes the Red Sox.

Friday Excitement

2007-02-26T12:27:00.000+02:00

On the way home from a family Bat Mitzvah at the Binyamina Winery with Natan as our representative child, we got a call from my friend Karyn. "Where are you?" she inquired. We told her. "Don't come near Tzomet Ha'bankim," the corner of Rivka and Derekh Hevron, about 2 min by car from our house. "Why?" we ask. She tells us that they've closed off the streets entirely, due to a suspected terrorist/bomber at the Bank Bin'leumi (Ira's branch). Karyn is stuck at the grocery store a block away - she lives on the other side of Derekh Hevron, on Eyn Gedi, literally 3 minutes on foot but now, she can't get home and it is Friday and there is much to be done. She tells us that the area is closed to all traffic, pedestrian and vehicular on all sides and that there are police officers out in force as well as helicoptors flying overhead.

We turn the news on to find out what's up but we're a few minutes past the hour and catch the latter part of the news and something seems to be about what's happening in J'lem (we're about an hour or so out of town at this point, not far from sister Sarah) but it passes quickly and we're still not sure of the whole story. We call Jess and Daniel, in the car with my parents, and tell them to drive the long way back to their house, through East Talpiyot. Ira is pleased to discover that Jess doesn't immediatly know how to do this, even though he, Ira that is, does. We call Mona and Robert Henoch, our Brooklyn visitors of the week and tell them the same driving information. They'd already run into the traffic tieup on their way to the zoo and instead diverted to a park in a different part of town. Robert, in his military way, absorbs the information unflappably and knows the route we're describing (they're staying in East Talpiyot at friends of ours who rent out an apartment. No we didn't arrange it, they found it themselves and then we realized).

How to pick up the necessary stuff that we still need for Shabbat. It is after two and time's awasting and we've got to pick up some salads and veggies before stores close. Should we drive through town and go to the shuk and then find a way back to the house or venture closer in to Emek Refaim and Baka and hope that things will eventually clear up. We notice that the roadblock on the way out of J'lem into the territories is backed up with traffic and that the soldiers are examining each car as it leaves the city. We hear that they're looking for the drivers and coordinators of the bomb/bomber. We drive and analyze and spend a few minutes trying to find Galei Tzahal, the Army Radio station. I consider calling newphew Benjy who always knows what's up but remember that his Gen'l doesn't handle J'lem.

20 minutes or so later, Karyn calls back. Things have reopened. The story she heard is that a would be bomber entered the bank and somehow backed out of his/her action but until the bomb was detonated and things were cleared up safely, nobody could get through. We breathe a sigh of relief and head for Derekh Beit Lehem and do our shopping and go home.

Everyone talks about the event over Shabbat. Sometime late in the day, or maybe it was after Shabbat, the true story emerges. Can't remember the source. Would be bank robber tried to rob the bank. Just looked on Jpost for the story but can't find it and didn't bother with Ha'aretz. Just a little bit of local excitement.

What's New

2007-02-16T15:47:00.000+02:00

Realize that I've been woefully out of touch from a blog persective. I think that I went through a period of feeling that I had nothing new to report. Kids were coping, Ira respiratory health had improved, even if his back had not, I was feeling at odd ends. I have more free time here than I am normally accustomed to and while I was filling it with household related activities of the ordinary sort - shopping, cooking, knitting (when I can), reading (when I don't fall into a narcoleptic haze), working on my hebrew (watching stupid tv while folding laundry), doing some writing, planning our business (which should be launching mid March if we get our act together) - I felt my time had become most unstructured. I have time to do my yoga, get to the pool, drink coffee on occasion with people, shop with Jess at different moments - all things that I did in NYC but with greater difficulty. While I confess to missing some of the things that kept me busy in NYC, I haven't missed them that much - directing my theater group, volunteering on any number of projects for the homeschooling world or the Kane St world or whatever else came my way. Here, I retain my anonymity and consequently, my world has been alot smaller.

Ira went to the US for his 2nd trip and while I was jealous, I was happy that he was going in, if for no other reason than to take care of the buildup of boxes at Iris and Steve's and 409 Pacific. Oh, all sorts of things from Amazon orders of books, to new shoes and whatever else has seemed important to get from the US. Truthfully, you can get everything here. What we are still bringing here are the familiar - certain toiletries (things are much too scented here which I can't stand), shoes for my achy feet (just easier to get what works for me), the odd (real vanilla which I can get here but b'koshi/with difficulty and Danny picked up for me with ease at Costco), the esoteric (ski mags and books), and then there's always stuff like Lands End or whatever else just seems so easy to order off of the internet. Again, shopping's fine here but one likes what one is used to, whether it's clothes or home stuff. Ira shlepped home lots of good stuff and new bottles of scotch (always critical, thanks Meyer) and we enjoyed Hannukah in February.

A few amusing things. An interesting breakfast with a friend last Friday at Pundak Elvis. Shockingly, I'd never noticed this place. One drives down the road from J'lem towards Tel Aviv and gets off at Neve Ilan. Suddenly, a gold statue of The King, and there, in the middle of nowhere, next to a gas station (that's how it always is here, the best places are next to gas stations, like the humus place in Rosh Pina) is this diner. I'm talking diner, just like American diner, silver Airstream look, circa 1965 - red vinyl booths, pics and posters of Elvis all over. I'm feeling good and enjoying the look. We sit in the booth and take our menus and open up and there it is, Shakshuka and the standard Israeli breakfast - eggs, veggies, cheese, bread, eggplant salad (or humus), olives (no diner would ever serve olives) and tahina. I mean, where were the home fries, the pancakes and french toast? Oh well, Israeli's wouldn't really know what to do with a real diner menu. They've never gone into a diner at 3:00am and paged through the 10 page menu, eyeing such delicacies as surf and turf, and veal medalions a la something and burgers of all varieties and types and wondered, can they really produce this at 3:00am? Meaning, I didn't eat all those things (this for my mother reading this post) but I always wanted to order filet mignon just to see. Of course, to me, diners meant really good white tuna sandwiches (hey, we were 4 kids and my father's a rabbi, we ate light tuna) with mayo and bits of celery on rye toast or whole wheat. Diners meant that covered revolving stand with fancy desserts that always looked outrageously exciting to a kid - lemon meringue pie (I'm sure my mother's was better but it didn't look 10 feet tall), layer cakes of all flavors, ideally iced with white icing and flaked coconut, crumb cakes (2 inches of cake and 4 inches of crumb) and those big, really big cookies. Diner breakfasts were a later discovery in life, and one that I've since given up because the smell of bacon really does interfere with my enjoyment of the meal. Still, the feeling of sitting in the booth was a pleasantly familiar one and it was nice to be with my friend, Barbara, and talk about our lives.

Hermon #2. Went back to the Hermon this week. Intended to have a sleepover but talked my way into a voucher for a 3 person ski pass for another day as there was a storm coming in and it was likely that they wouldn't be open the next day and the boys and I just wanted to go home and see Ira who was returning that night and Jess and D were no longer coming up because of the storm. We all lost money because we didn't sleep over but that's life I decided, as we drove home, down from the North, with the Kinneret on our right, glowing in the evening light and the sky striped with pale orange and grey. We headed through the Jordan Vaalley this time, as green as one will find it in Israel, the hills covered in green, wildflowers sprouting everywhere. Israelis are terrible litterers but after a campaign to save the wildflowers, the gov't managed to educate people not to pick wildflowers and consequently they have a vast variety of wildflowers in spring and it's just fabulous to go and see them. Indeed there are books dedicated to flower hikes (I should know, I just bought one, in Hebrew no less) and what time of the year is good for what flora and fauna. We headed down into the desert section of the Beka Valley once it was dark but I looked at the scenery with familiarity despite the darkness - the sandy humps and oddly majestic brown mountains in the distance, with the Dead Sea coming up on our left, to the East. What a drive. We went from J'lem in the morning, heading to 300meters below sea level where it was sunny and warm, to sea level along the Jordan River and then making a steep climb up to Route 98 in the Western Galilee, which we traveled all the way up to the Hermon, where it was intensely foggy. Wild to go through such different terrain and weather conditions on a 3 hour drive. Skiing was blind in the fog - not a 10 in terms of conditions but we persevered. Gabe and I are just itching for our planned ski gig in Northern VT in March, where it just snowed about 3-4 feet in some places this past week. Ah.

Today, celebrated my mother's birthday. Went to sister Sarah's for breakfast. Saw niece, Elisheva, the newest soldier of the crowd, for the first time in months. She looks great and spoke of her job and training, which has been interesting and hard - she's in Doveyr Tzahal - Army Spokespeople. Essentially, the Army's spin doctors. Benjy was there and spoke of being at Dan Halutz's retirement from the army ceremony. Interesting and Idan Reichel, a great Israeli musician who plays Ethiopian influenced music, was there and played. Gabe Wasserman, has been staying by us this week. He's arrived for a few months in Israel, looking for work as a translator and as an aspiring Sofer/Jewish scribe. Looks like he found a place to live in the Jewish Quarter, which is a cool place to live - perhaps not forever but for a few months, certainly. He's off in Ramot, visiting a family and an interesting shul this weekend. Believe it or not, Natan is off for Shabbat on his own, at a family that he met during the play period. A homeschooling family with 7 kids - with 1 Natan's age, as well as many others, from the US. Actually, we were all invited and would have considered it more strongly - they live on a moshav, complete with peacocks and other animals, but Ira's just returned and it was too much for this weekend.

Need to run and take care of last minute Shabbat details. Weather is cloudy and rainy for Shabbat but hopefully, it won't pour tomorrow. Dinner with Jess and Daniel and lunch with Alan and Lisa. I already talked enough of food, so I won't bore your further.

Shabbat Shalom.

Evaluations, evaluations

2007-02-01T17:35:00.000+02:00

Guess what, Akiva is retarded. Perhaps this sounds a bit baldfaced but we've had to go through a couple of evaluations with him since we arrived. The first one was for Bituach L'eumi - Nat'l Soc'l Security programs. The good news is that he received the full 100% disabled designation. This means he receives a monthly stipend from the gov't. Sort of like the program that he was enrolled in back in the US - Medicaid Waiver. We always say that Akiva knows what to ace and what not to ace. Actually, that eval was a simple one. We didn't know that in advance of course, and came armed with bro-in-law, Michael, whom we felt would be the right advocate. He's nice, he's smart, he used to work in the spec'l needs world (you may not have known that) and he speaks Hebrew. Unfortunately, he shlepped for nothing as they wouldn't let him into the room. So, while he cooled his heels outside, ready to jump in and help us, we managed the exam nicely with the lovely doctor who asked different questions and asked Akiva various things. Akiva had one nice moment where he got up and washed his hands with soap - all by himself. We were pleased. Interestingly enough, as a person with Down Syndrome, he gets 50% automatically, unless he proves to need more.

Eval #2 was for Social Services through the local municipality - for lack of a better way to describe it. First there was the visit and intake at the local office, followed by a home visit by a lovely social worker and then, this scheduled eval at their offices - mercifully, right next to Akiva's school. We arrived and waited and availed ourselves of the often available instant coffee and hot choc and tea. You have to live here to have an appreciation for instant coffee, despite the ever avail coffee hafuch, Israelis lived on instant coffee for years in the early period of the state. We waited and let Akiva climb up to see the cars outside - we were alongside a main drag and Akiva is currently wild for viewing cars, in particular off of the pedestrian bridge on Derech Hevron near our house. We saw the doctor. We talked about epilepsy. He said, "did Akiva ever have an MRI or CT for his diagnosis of epilepsy as an infant?" We said, "no, don't think so." He said, "impossible." We said, "He was in a special epilepsy wing and was carefully monitored but don't think he had that done." He begged to differ. Ira said later that he would have remembered because we paid the bills and would have noticed it and it was in the years before Akiva had Medicaid covereage. But really, who remembers. We finished with Dr. #1 and waited for #2. Looked at cars again. #2 was an evaluator. Again, any of you who are familiar with Akiva's testing history know that he's no slamn dunk when it comes to being tested. Of course, now, time has passed. It's almost 10 and it's time for "aruchat esser"/the 10:00 meal, or what they call in Britain "elevenses," except they get up so early around here that one needs another snack by 10. Akiva is hungry. We feed him pretzels, 1/2 a sandwich and he tries to answer what she's asking but as would be with all testing situations, he's not comfortable (she's across the desk), no chair that fits him well and that has his feet touching the bottom, he's been there since 8:45am and he doesn't see why he should draw a circle with a too big pencil and stack boxes, etc. Meanwhile, the cars call and we take a break to look at the cars outside while standing on a window. We all decide to take him across the way to his class - it was great. We walked into the main meeting area - big kids to the right and little to the left. Akiva is greeted by the big kids - Hey, Akiva. Music is playing, children are dancing in that great, spastic way of the retarded. (this is said lovingly.) I especially love the big kids, the teens and young adults, chatting with each other or not, jumping up and down or not and being kids and nobody cares that they're different. I should add here that Akiva is being asked for a playdate by another boy from horseback riding, Nuriel, who I must say has the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. When he smiles, the whole world is happy. He just loves Akiva, talks about Akiva (we're told) and it's tough to understand him (he's got serious speech issues) but he comes over to Akiva, hand outstretched, smile stretched across his face and life is good. Anyway, I'm willing to try a playdate - maybe the park, with cookies (as the father suggested, a lovely Argentinian named Jorge), and we'll wait for some sun which will be shining more and more over the next month or so. I digress. We leave Akiva in class for an hour, awaiting the final appt, with the psychiatrist as they've decided that Akiva needs another diagnosis. We've known this for a while having already analyzed Akiva's autistic tendancies with his geneticist in New York. We now talk with the Soc'l Worker. I must add that Ira and I are starved and tired. I know he's retarded, the evaluator knows he's retarded, the doctor knows he's retarded, we need coffee, lunch and a shot of scotch. I don't need another diagnosis but I'm told it's good for receiving services. Far be it for me to turn down services at this point - no knowing really what they might be as we're told that budgets aren't what they use to be (are they ever?)

The Pysch is ready. Ira walks back across to pick up Akiva, who's not happy to return. We sit in the Psych's office and he ignores most of her questions but does enjoy working on a puzzle for a while. We answer some questions and we all agree that we can call him PDD/Pervasive Dev Delay, in addition to the Down Syndrome. Just for info sake, kids with DS can have autism but Akiva's issues probably stem from his seizure history - or, as the neuro said years ago, the underlying brain abnormality that led to the seizures, or the poisonous medicine that he took for 6 weeks (since even she admits that nobody understands how it works), or the seizures themselves that essentially fried brain cells for 4 mos. That's the bare facts of the matter but hey, Akiva beat the nasty diagnoses that could have really ruined his life and stopped having seizures and really came back to the world that he had left behind when they started. Not bad for 10 mos old.

What might we get? Special therapies, altho we're told there's not much money around for that. But still, that means sensory therapy which would be great for him. We could be eligible for tza'ha'ron/afternoon programs, which would be great as there's a good place in the area that has great special services and therapies and could be a great place to be a few days a week, esp if it means feeling like he's part of a community. The last thing he could be eligible for is nofshon, which I would translate to respite services, potentially 15-20 days that might include overnight stays at nice places in the area that accomodate people with special needs. We could try 1 night, and then maybe 2 nights. This could mean a chance for Ira and I to have a weekend or a few days on our own, and the boys could have a break too, and Akiva could be checked on by Jess or others and it could be ok. We'll see.

The eval team meets and then we get called in, unfortunately with Akiva, to hear the final sum up of what he'll receive. Let's hope they don't evaluate too often. I can't stand these things and no matter how nice everyone is, always feel it's just grueling for the parents, the child and that it never really sees things as they are. As always, it never sees the child for what he really can do in his own environment - that's not entirely true, as their whole purpose, these guys that is, do want to see what they can do to facilitate proper placement and offer support to the family. It's just that I'm so tired of these things. It was good day for our Hebrew though, we both did well altho I confess that I did alot of the talking but Ira also added his parts when he wished.

Men's Club, Movies and Mega

2007-01-30T18:48:00.000+02:00

Men's Club
Picture the jacuzzi room at Ramat Rachel at 5:30pm on an average day. 5:30pm is achar ha'tza'ha'ra'yim/the afternoon, which means after 4:00pm. Many older men show up, in their teensy, weensy bikinis, young and old, short and tall. They meet, they greet, they gossip, they play sheshbesh/backgammon, they eat snacks and drink coffee - in short, they hang out, primarily, in the jacuzzi. So, Jess and I finish swimming and we enter the jacuzzi area and there are guys everywhere. We sit in the 'shvitz' and yap with 2 older guys about how to play with the thermostat and make the steam hotter. We sit in the jacuzzi and listen to the chatter about pensions, wives and children, work, and other scintillating matters. It's surprising relaxing, once you get over the initial shock.

Movies
We went to the movies last night. First time since we got here. Went with Jess, friend Esther and Ira. Actually, the first time I've seen a movie since I don't know when - can't remember the last one. Saw The Queen. Excellent. First, we went (yes, don't be surprised) to Burgers Bar and ate eh burgers and greasy fries. Burger was flat and bun thick but components - lettuce, pickles, garlic mayo (opt), chimichuri sauce (opt and not bad at all), ketchup and tomato, made a decent presentation. And hey, it was kosher, too. Jess says the burgers are better at another local place.

I had forgotten that movies in Israel are a particular kind of experience. Reserved seats on your ticket. This means you can nurse your coffee until the last minute and walk in and still find a seat. It also means that if you reserve late, you run the risk of sitting in the front row and there's nothing you can do about it. Of course, there was the guy who walked in when it was dark and the previews had just started. He called out for his wife who responded "Avi, we're in the 4th row." My memories of movies in this country date back to 1970. We lived in our summer rental in Kiryat Ha'yovel. There was Cinema 1, up the block. We saw "Gone With the Wind" - burning of Atlanta, Tara and Scarlett O'Hara, in living color. People used to yap alot during movies, since they were reading subtitles anyway. They'd drink their cokes and roll their bottles down the uncarpeted aisles. They eat sunflower seeds and make piles of shells on the side of their seats. Every theater had a sign in Hebrew - don't crack sunflower seeds. I remember seeing Quo Vadis in Tzfat a billion years ago - quite the experience. Then there was History of the World, Part 1, the Mel Brooks movie - they didn't get that one, either.

This time, behavior was better. Perhaps it was Helen Mirren's example as Queen Elizabeth. There's also the time honored intermission, usually during a love scene or cliff hanger. It's a Jewish country, maybe someone's hungry or needs to go to the bathroom (I always do). No one should be uncomfortable.

Mega
Did a really fast shop in Mega today. It's indicative of how much better we are at maneuvering in the grocery store. Knew where to go, didn't spend too much time over label reading and deciphering, didn't get dazzled by new products and the specials of the week. Just picked up the bare essentials and ran out. Mega isn't my favorite store but it was fine for the usual bread, humous, fruit, and such.

Torah, Torah, Torah

2007-01-27T22:04:00.000+02:00

Was present at the dedication of a Torah scroll at Shira Hadasha - you know, that's the shul with all the singing, that makes Ira crazy but makes me happy. Anyway, in honor of their 5th Anniversary, there was a Torah being dedicated in memory of a member's mother, who died a year ago. I went along for the ride with Jess and courtesy of her, had cadged myself a bit part for the night. More on that later.

We met up at a house where the final letters of the scroll were being finished. Interestingly enough, anyone was welcome if they were male and right handed. Something about left handedness being a problem, unless I guess, the whole scroll was written by a left handed sofer/scribe. As I arrived, amid noshing children and adults, Daniel (Jess's) was sitting and filling in a letter, which he said, was quite a thrill. The sofer had the usual bearded look but was wearing outrageous magnifying glasses while he worked and supervised the "filler inners." When all was finished, he produced, of all things, a blow dryer and dried the scroll off. The Torah was dressed, in a lovely velvet, embroidered cover and carried off for it's walk to Shira Hadasha (about 5-7 minutes away). Btw, the Torah is a small one, designed to be portable and to bed used for happy occasions like B'nei Mitzva and sad occasions, being brought to a shiva home.

We exited outside and were greeted by noise and excitement. A van had arrived, pulled by a car in the front. The van was lit up with colored lights and decorated with a large, lit up crown on top. It sparkled and twinkled and frumy, hassidishe music was playing. I'm not sure why you have to listen to Hassidic music at such an occasion but it seemed appropriate to all. There was a huppa/canopy in back, and the Torah traveled under the huppa along with singing and dancing to the shul building.

Jess and I ran off to Shira Hadasha, to pick up the Torah's that are already there and bring them to the entrance gate to "meet" the new Torah. That was my special job. We came to the gate, Torah's in our arms and were met by kids with torches - shades of "I'll get you my pretty," but everyone assured me no problem, not to worry about little kids with fire (typical Israel). The van arrived, the new Torah arrived and we made our way into the building, up the stairs and into the main space with song and dance. It was fun and relaxed in its way and I enjoyed it very much. The family that had dedicated the Torah spoke - the wife did, about her mother and about her feelings toward the community and the support that they had offered here when her mother died. After 1 other speech from the community thanking the family, the 3 grandchildren got up and read from the Torah. That was fun as the youngest was a girl of about 8 or 9 and the next child about 11 and the oldest was probably of Bar Mitzvah age. Shira Hadasha has it's problems - too crowded, too much yuh'buh'buh'ing, the mechitza - but it's resolutely an egalitarian, orthodox model and it works and it makes for a community where the women really feel that they matter. They do as a matter of fact and that makes it a good place. As well, there is no other place that I have ever been to that has singers that take their singing as lustily. I say this, as I was there this week on Fri night and Sat and sometimes you wish they'd move on to the next prayer but there's an attention to prayer, a love of prayer and a sheer enjoyment of the whole thing that is infectious. I am fortunate that the women are a friendly bunch - open, warm and welcoming - especially after they see you return on a regular basis. Unfortunately, the guys are not that friendly and the only thing that we've been able to figure out by now is that it's a guy thing - guys have to daven and that's that and there's a suspicion of being friendly to a tourist when they won't be around next week. I say, what's wrong with being friendly with tourists. Anyway, enough of that. It was a good 5th Anniv celebration and it continues to be a place that calls to me.

Shavua Tov. A good week to all.

Belleayre Day

2007-01-21T22:57:00.000+02:00

I came home smiling, after driving about 8 hours today (well, brother Jon drove about an hour or so for me at one point) so that I could have the Belleayre experience, or rather, the Jiminy Peak experience. That is, I went skiing for the day. The big boys and I, sans Ira and Akiva, and accompanied by niece Helaina who is here for 2nd semester at Hebrew U, drove up to the Hermon.

It was a true of act of skiing faith that we actually went, and a stroke of good fortune that we managed to ski. We had planned the day trip with my brother Jon and 2 of his four, Adam (18) and Talya (11). After Shabbat, we spoke on the phone. It was stormy in J'lem - howling winds and strong rains and the Hermon was receiving snow and nobody know how this wuold effect the opening. I asked, "When it snow, doesn't the mountain stay open? That's how it works in the States" I was told, "Nothing works here the way it does back in the States." In the States, as any good skier knows, upon hearing of a snowstorm, you pile into the car and drive north, hoping your tires and forebearance will hold out until you reach the mountain and make fresh tracks in the snow. The Hermon, by comparison, closed down in bad weather on Saturday and had to take 1000 skiers off the mountain. I remember a day at Belleayre last year, where we skied, essentially, in the fog. The next time we went back, we were amazed at what we had skied down because in clear conditions we had to stare down the headwall of a steep run, always a daunting sight, as opposed to ski it blind because we couldn't see it in the fog. I did feel that I should have gotten a refund from Bellearye that day but chalked it up to win some lose some.

When we spoke to Jon on Sat night, he was pessemistic. He said that when the snow is heavy, visibility is lousy up there and the fog descends and they close the mountain. He himself was caught on a lift that lost electricity during a storm a few years ago. Jonathan recommended that we should pack our bathing suits and the worst case scenario, go to the hot springs at Hamat Gader, near Tiberias. Ok, that sounded good to me and to Helaina as well. We packed up, after searching through the machsan/storage room downstairs for our skis and accessories, and made many sandwiches and headed for bed, a 5:00am wakeup call planned. Note: Ira wasn't going. In his continued efforts to pull up lame at all times, he had wrenched his back and wasn't skiworthy. He'd get Akiva off to school and receive him and also make time for a trip to the chiropractor.

I went to sleep feeling anticpicatory. I didn't sleep well, sleeping on what I call the "local," waking up every hour or so to go to the bathroom and listen to the wind whistle through the trissim/shutters and the rain beat against the window. At 5:00, I checked the Israel Weather Service report and we learned that the it had snowed and was still snowing but should be letting up, with weather improving up north during the day. Jon called at 5:20am and thought we should bag the whole plan but he'd go with my decision. We discussed and called him back and told him we were on. We decided to drive until 8:00am, when we'd be able to check with the Hermon and find out if they were opening or not. At 5:45am, we were on our way.

Jonathan had prevailed upon me to drive towards him and continue up Route 6, cutting through the middle of the country. I had planned to drive through the Jordan Valley, on the Beka'a road, which would have saved me some time but agreed with him as it's a narrow road and likely to flood in bad weather and the rain was still heavy at times when we left. We met up on Route 6, after a necessary gas, coffee and potty stop at about 6:45ish. I'm finally getting better at pumping gas but they ask for way too much information - first you swipe your card, then enter your TZ/identity card #, then your license # (I always have to look) and then you can fill your tank.

We headed up Route 6, toward Yok'neam and then turning into Wadi Ara, eventually running parallel with the Kinneret/Sea of Gallilee, which we could catch the occasional glimpse of. The weather had improved and we noted a patch of sun through the clouds over to the East and felt sure that that was the direction to which we were heading. At 8:00am, I listened to the news which was about choosing the new commander of the Israeli army, who'd been blown up in Baghdad, including the terrible information about the large number of American soldiers who'd been killed over the weekend, and the Kassam that had landed in an open field and caused no injuries down south. The report ended with the weather and the important words, "the Hermon will be open today," which everyone in the car, down to Helaina, understood. Jonathan, called the mountain and had that information confirmed. Cheers. We continued driving, passing Rosh Pina, and heading toward Kiryat Shimona which we drove through and continued East toward the Hermon. At some point, probably around Rosh Pina, we saw the Hermon, large, imposing and snow-capped in the distance. That's when we all realized that we really would go skiing at some point.

We arrived at about 9:45am, paying the entrance fee (per person!) to get in. We headed up to the lodge, shlepping our stuff (Jonathan insisted on putting on his ski pants in the car, even tho I assured him that he could do it in the lodge but like any good Israeli, he is used to car changes for anything from bathing suits to ski pants) in. It looked, like any basic ski lodge - nothing fancy and basic in it's amenities. Bathrooms, cafe with sandwiches and coffee, shop with hats and gloves for all those unsuspecting Israelis who'll show up to admire the snow and realize that they're cold and ski shop with ski related stuff. We rented equipment and proceded to get ready for our day on the slopes. Skiing at the Hermon is pricey, certainly by Israeli standards and definitely by Skop/Steinberg "skiing on the cheap" standards. Lift tix were 200nis each, or about $50, regardless of age (no discounts for kids and no free skiing for 70+) and rentals were about 135nis or $30. We were lucky, we had hit a special and rented for 70nis or $15. Good savings for us. In the States, we rented for the boys each season, figuring that we'd invest in permanent equipment when they finished growing. We're thinking that Natan may be ready for boots and skis - maybe we'll wait another year. We also had a ski rack in NYC but left in the basement of 409 Pacific as we didn't know if it would make sense to shlep it here for the handful of times we're likely to get up to the Hermon. As well, we didn't know if it would fit on our car here (it wouldn't), so we couldn't take my skis with us but at least I brought my boots, but STILL had to pay the full fee just to rent skis - sigh. When we go back again, we're going to look into staying overnight as we're told that the lodging deals include lift tix and are generally worth it.

We got ourselves ready and out on the slopes, excited and anticipatory. A few facts on the Hermon from Wikipedia, but I will tell you that Gabe knew the elevation, which he learned in Ulpan in his Hebrew geography class. Mount Hermon (33°24′N 35°51′E; Hebrew: הר חרמון‎, Har Hermon; Arabic: جبل الشيخ‎, Jabal el-Shaiykh, Djabl a-Shekh, "mountain of the chief" and "snowy mountain") is a mountain in the Anti-Lebanon mountain range. Its highest point is 2,814 m (9,230 feet) above sea level. This summit is on the border between Syria and Lebanon, and is under Syrian control. The southern and western slopes of Mount Hermon came under the control of Israel as a result of the Israeli victory in the 1967 Six-Day War.

The Israeli sector of the mountain is heavily patrolled by the Israel Defense Forces and the Israel Police, and the Israeli Security Forces maintain a strategic observation post for monitoring Syrian and Lebanese military activity near Mitzpe Shelagim ("Snow Lookout"), which is at an elevation of about 2,224 m (7300 feet). Its adjacent peak, at 2,236 m, is the highest elevation under Israeli control.

Happily, it looked very much like a ski resort, albeit an underdeveloped one. The resort is managed by Majdal Shams, a Druze village right at the base of the mountain, and Neve Ativ, a moshav a few kilometers south of the mountain. It's absolutely beautiful up there and topographically, it reminded me alot of the look of the Little Cottonwood Canyon, where we skiied last March, in Utah. Scrubby, rocky looking mountains, that you snake through on switchbacks, gradually seeing patches of snow that eventually turn into a light frosting and then, suddenly, heavy coverage. The mountain is big and craggy, and above the treeline, and it stares down upon the visitor with imposing demeanor. There are not alot of runs, although I'm told it's alot better than it was 15 years ago, and there are beautiful, untouched areas of virgin snow, that just beg for a brave skier to venture into. Thing is, the snow is heavy and moist, not light fluffy powder and one wonders if a skier would get stuck in the wetter stuff, beneath the upper crust of snow. I saw a few off piste skiers, but felt that without fatter skis and without a knowledgeable guide, it was not going to work. Anyway, we had our work cut out for us, with 3 beginner skiers to take down the mountain. Talya was the most experienced, with Helaina a close second and Adam a rank beginner. They were all game and worked hard all day. Gabe took Talya under his wing and she followed him down, much like the rows of little ones in ski school filing after their instructor like ducks in a line and Natan handled Adam for a good portion of the time, especially after Adam admitted to Natan that he needed a crash course in turning. Helaine was slow and steady but made good headway in getting herself down the runs successfully. After a while we switched and I bothered Adam much in the same way Rebecca Schiffman used to bother him - "pick up your butt, keep your poles in front of you, look down the mountain," and then, when he tired, went back to basic ski kid talk, "pizza/snowplow and french fries/parallel." He did well. We stopped for lunch as Jon had insisted we keep our sandwiches in a backpack with us. We ate voraciously of our smushed but tasty sandwiches and headed back for more. As warned, fog had descended earlier in the day which had made skiing the upper mountain hard, esp with our new skiers but we managed. At about 2:00pm, the fog lifted and Jon and I headed for the other side of the mountain. Natan and Gabe were tiring and stayed with Helaina (Talya and Adam had traded their skis for sleds), eventually going into the lodge and returning their skis. Jonathan and I headed over to the Siyon side, taking a rope tow up to another spot. We got off the rope tow and there we were at the top of a beautiful canyon, complete with a snow crusted cliff to our right. We skied along the upper rim - I had to sightsee and stop along the way, agog at the beauty and grandeur of the mountain, which we had, virtually to ourselves. We skied down into a valley, towards the base of the Western face of the other peak that we had been skiing on earlier. The snow cover was thick, the quite was absolute, except for the soft schuss of the skis. We reached the bottom, by the lift, alongside the lift house and watched a few soldiers joking with the workers, smoking cigarettes, their rifles hanging alongside their sides, their green uniforms at odds with the pristine beauty surrounding them. We had seen other soldiers during the day, wearing white coveralls, skiing with us, some on some of the oldest equipment I'd ever seen. These were members of a unit that patrols the Hermon and I'm told they train in Norway. Got to find out more, maybe they're interested in one of mine for such a posting. They didn't look like hotshot skiers but I only saw a few of them out on training runs. I don't think there's an Israeli ski team but skiing in the army, there's an idea...

We headed up the lift - all the lifts were slow 2-chairs but the weather at this point was warmer than it had been all day and we were tired. It was too late for another run down the valley so we headed over to the other peak and skiied down - answering the phone on the way, it was Helaina, wondering where we were - and headed for the lodge and the gift of every ski day, taking off your ski boots. The kids were already in their street shoes. We gathered our stuff and changed and got ready to leave.

A note about the skiers. Most of them were newbies and most, rank newbies. Normally, when one goes skiing, there's always a few impressive skiers, who zip past the likes of the rest, carving beautiful arcs into the snow. I would say that there were none of those but lots of happy beginners with a bunch of intermediates thrown in for good measure. What we saw alot of were new skiers. New skiers, complete with tzitzit and kippot flying in the wind, new skiers with skirts over ski pants (and sometime not), new skiers with jeans and sweat pants, wet on their behinds, skiing or trying to ski and generally getting in the way and falling all over the place and mucking about in areas they shouldn't have been finding themselves in. I was glad I had my helmet but it was fun to see such happy newbies enjoying the snow. Maybe they just put out their cigarettes and hang up their phones (I stopped when I answered mine, unlike another guy I saw skiing and talking) and they'll be less of a threat to everyone on the mountain.

We were ready to leave at about 4:15pm with a minor complication. I was to deliver Natan to his play rehearsal at 8:00pm in J'lem. It was starting at 7 but I had dispensation to bring him late. What to do. There was no way that we could get home and have sahlab, which Jonathan had been planning all afternoon. We'd have to drive the Jordan Valley way on our own and it was getting dark and I was thinking I didn't want to. I called the director and said, "W're fine, had a good day and just wondering how much you need Natan." Leah had given us her blessing to go but had exhorted Natan not to come back with a broken jaw as the last actor had done during the play period. She said, "Well, I'd like to have him." I said, "No problem, I'll get in the car and get him to you." She said, "I don't want you driving like a maniac." Excellent. I had invoked Jewish mother guilt. I said, "No, we'll be fine but, I'll tell you, this has been a good day for Natan. He's been working hard and under alot of strain and it's a special day for him. BUT...if you need him, I'll get him back to you." I should add, that as expected, Natan is an excellent and responsible cast member and knows his lines and his blocking and I'll tell you more about the play another time. Leah thought and said, "Don't hurry back, it's ok." I asked her again if she was sure and she said she was. Natan was overjoyed.

We headed down the mountain and made our first stops at a group of small shacks right as you exit the entrance to the area. We stopped, according to Jonathan's scientific analysis, not at the first or the last but the middle person. We were greeted by hot cups of sweet and spicy tea. She told us that it had sage and cinnamon in it. Lovely and restorative. Then, we ordered large druzi pita sandwiches. I tasted, saving myself for the sahlab. They looked like crepes almost - quite flat and large. She folded one in half and laid it across an overturned pan, shaped much like an upside down wok, and warmed the pita. Then she slathered it with either chocolate spread (for Gabe and Talya) or labne (soft yogurt cheese), sprinkled with a hot, spicy herb mix and a drizzle of olive oil and folded the whole thing up for eating. She offered tastes of homemade cherry preserves (not too sweet, complete with pits) and something she called, grape honey, which was sweet and syrupy, perhaps a cooked down syrup from grape juice. We tasted her olives, which were crunchy and good and some sort of salted bean - perhaps a relative to ful beans but smaller. We got a few cups of sahlab. Hers was quite unusual with an almost sagelike taste or maybe it was lavender - not my favorite, and it lacked what Jon and I consider essential, chopped nuts, but we drank anyway, some of us dumping midway, or giving to Natan to finish. We headed off, extra pittot and jam in tow, and Jonathan decided to stop at the last shack, veering from his scientific hypothesis of the past, and we sampled another sahlab which Helaina liked more but which I thought was lacking completely. After a quick stop 10 minutes later to view a waterfall, we got on the road, driving to Rosh Pina, where we stopped for a quick potty stop and a driver change (Jonathan took over for me). We considered eating humus but of course, everyone was full, not surprisingly.

Jonathan drove the next leg back down to Route 6 and we switched again, when we neared Kochav Ya'ir and I took us back up the hill to Jerusalem, listening to the soft snuffle of Natan's snoring in the back seat. We arrived home at about 9:15pm - really not a bad trip overall and I think, under the projected 4 hours each way but didn't clock it of course, much to Ira's chagrin, and we'll analyze it further the next time we go, hopefully, in a few weeks (assuming there's still snow).

I went to bed exhausted but content. It had been hard to leave NY, knowing that skiing here would be complicated and different. This wasn't bad at all, and it was a good realization for the big boys as well. Maybe next year, we'll manage a real ski trip somewhere exciting, assuming global warming hasn't totally destroyed the glaciars in the Alps, but meantime, we've got the Hermon, right here in Israel.

Red Letter Day

2007-01-14T10:33:00.000+02:00

Last Thurs, Jan 11 was a Red Letter Day. It was my birthday and I was reared in a home where birthdays were respected. This means that a few days, or if you were younger, a few months, you began planning. You planned your party, if you were still of that mind, you thought over your presents and let the interested parties know, and most importantly, you planned your birthday dinner.

Presents were complicated since I am a January baby, which means that if my mother didn't look into my present in advance of my birthday, it would mean no present or not the right present, as in the case of the year that I wanted, really wanted, really, really wanted Dawn's Beauty Pageant and received, instead, Dawn Dance Party because they Beauty Pageants had all been bought out at Xmastime. Dawn Beauty Pageant looked just like a beauty pageant stage, albeith with Bert Parks, complete with runway with moveable device that you could set the doll on and move her up and down the runway. There was a Dawn doll that came, with a beautiful evening gown on, pink with spangles and such and she was a blonde, I recall, and certain to win the contest. It was Miss America, scaled down for the average girl. Dawn Dance Party was fun, but it wasn't the same. It was smaller and Dawn stood on this stand and you rotated her around in pseudo dance mode. It did come with Dale, who was this hip, Black, Dawn doll, complete with groovy orange mini. I still have Dale. Jess and I divided up the Dawn spoils a few years ago, most of it going to niece Elisheva, when she was smaller. I think Jess kept the blonde doll. In later years, I ceded the collection to Jessica, who was into minatures and I helped her build a lovely domicile for the dolls, complete with furnishing, wallpaper and other built-in design features that were my specialty as older sister. The house was built into the lower shelves of the bookshelves in the family room in Malverne. Sometime in the 3rd grade or so, the doll condo was laid to waste by Jess's friend Mindy Elfenbein who was bored one Friday night and said, "Let's stage a robbery!" Needless to say, there was quite the controversy after this but I recall that the house was rebuilt.

This past Thursday, a b-day dinner was planned in the most relaxed of ways, to be held at Jess and Daniel's place. We've gone to dinner at their house on the occasional Thurs as they have pizza night every Thurs with Daniel's mother, Rita and other friends of theirs who live in Mod'iin (it's a rotating cast depending on the Thurs). I was feeling at loose ends about my birthday as Thursday, Jan 11th, was also the day that my father was having a repeat CAT scan and having it read by his oncologist. It wasn't going to feel that celebratory or certainly had that capability. For the many of my readers who've asked continuously about his health, he's been doing well, continuing with his chemo - every other week - and has been alot stronger than he'd been when all this started in late August. That said, the thought of another CAT scan made us all, especially my mother and father, quite nervous. I was feeling relatively postive - that is, my father was stronger, he looked better, he was eating well and had regained all weight lost - but you never know. I hoped for at least no further growth in the tumor on his pancreas. So, if the news was good, my birthday dinner would be easier to celebrate and if not, at least we'd all be together. So as not to keep you on edge, I can tell you that the news was/is good. His tumor shrank by a centimeter which is quite significant - an overall 25% shrink. This was unbelievable news, to which Jess and I and my parents were the first one to be privy. The oncologist was delighted and we couldn't believe it. The chemo was, at best, only likely to be successful in 10% of cases in terms of shrinking tumors. More likely would have been no shrinkage, a 20% chance. Given those odds, we didn't no what to expect. The upshot, another round of chemo and we'll see how he does this time. If things stay good or even stable, perhaps a break from chemo in the spring. We got a good look at his CAT scan - quite fascinating, really, in an odd way. Saw the tumor and saw his stent, sitting pretty since August. I feel quite the expert on stents and livers, so it was just a continuation of my liver education that started with Liat and Don's livers last years. We all drove home together - my mother dropping me and Jess off at our respective homes - in a state of stunned happiness and agreed that we should have a bit of champagne later, at the now to be sure celebratory birthday get together.

A bit about the birthday dinner. This meant that you could choose. My mother was not one for discussion when it came to dinner growing up. She cooked, we ate. There wasn't much talk or kvetching about what we didn't like or not. Maybe she was lucky and we weren't picky. Maybe she was a good cook, unlike the mother's of some of my friends who were challenged in the kitchen - she was/is a good cook. All I know is that she prepared a respectable meal every night for a billion years. Meat - this included London broil (which I never liked), meat loaf and it's cousins, including hamburger and sloppy Joe's and such (some of which I liked and didn't like), minute steaks (which I didn't like) and chicken (this was always fine with us but I never met chicken breasts until later in life, we dined on dark meat, which my parents preferred or learned to prefer in feeding 4 hungry children). Fish was a once a week occurrence - Thursday nights, and always teemed with chocolate pudding or we never would have eaten it. It was also frozen, as was the style of the time and therefore, somewhat lacking in taste, altho I did love my mother's fish chowder and probably at least once, requested it for a birthday dinner. One could easily eat it and look past the bits of fish for the potatoes and tomatoes. There was always a sensible salad to open with, or, a half of grapefruit, which we children would carefully cut and segment using the grapefruit knife. Sister Sarah, used to eat her entire grapefruit, down to the pith, which always seemed horrible to me in earlier years. A starch to round out the meal and here's where the trouble came in. My mother, to stave off cooks' boredom (and I know of what I speak), would try different things from baked potatoes (always good) to brown rice with mushrooms (bordering on questionnable) to kasha (absolutely horrible). My father, who actually liked kasha, would smash his kasha down into a nice flat mash and then tunnel into it, creating windows and doors and tell us (ostensibly to amuse us but it was horrifying, really) how tasty it was while eating his creation. I mean, had she made kasha varnishkes, we might have coped but she was a purist and probably looking for the easy methodology but really, what kid is going to eat a pile of kasha?

My mother had wonderful specialty dishes, mainly for Shabbat - veal ribs with sweet and sour sauce (definitely requested if your birthday fell on Shabbat), stuffed veal breast (this, I actually requested one special birthday), and a range of kugels, sweet and savory, particular favorites being her potato kugel (she makes the best one) and sweet, dairy, noodle kugel, each piece being at least 2000 calories and probably 15 grams of fat, but hey, she only made it for break fast and for Shavuot. Lasagna entered into our repertoire when I was in HS, I think, and her recipe used cottage cheese (who knew of ricotta) and had tuna in the sauce, which Sarah's Italian friends at college thought was really wierd. It did have mozzarella and I remember that my mother wrote to Polly O asking about their cheese manufactoring methods because it didn't have a hechsher/kosher marking, and she had never used such a cheese before. They must have responded the right way as she started making lasagna regularly. My favorite pre-lasagna, pasta dish, that really, was the only dish she made with pasta besides spaghetti and meatballs ("it's a favorite with everyone," said Father), was tuna casserole. That perfect blend of pasta with tuna and, you guessed it, cream of mushroom soup, topped with a few slices of american cheese (which isn't a cheese but who knew), and baked to perfection. I definitely used to request that for a birthday dinner, and in later years, when my mother tried out new pasta thems, used to ask and then make myself, her spinach noodle casserole with salmon and poppyseeds - Umm good. I will tell you that when Daniel came home from his last trip to the States, he brought home, in addition to cranberries for all of us (which are in my freezer), 2 cans of cream of mushroom soup. I said, "Mom, you can make a white sauce. It's easy and healthier than canned soup, which has all sorts of nasty things in it." My mother replied, "It's easier to open a can and besides, I like it that way. How often do I make it, anyway?"

Back to my birthday dinner. Nobody asked me what I wanted. The menu on Thursday never changes. It is always, pancakes (made by Rita and they're quite good and a perfect appetizer, esp when Jess is making pizza which takes time), pizza (homemade by Jess on special occasions. like my birthday) with opt toppings (olives, onions, peppers, mushrooms) and salad (we must have some salad to round it out. Dessert - ice cream of course but not mandatory. I was concerned about birthday cake and prevailed on Ira and Gabe to bake a cake that I wanted to eat and they made an excellent apple cake but like all things baked in our oven here, it burned. My parents were coming too and that was good, and Sarah and Noam were going to drive up and get there a bit late. Miriam, Daniel's sister came along for the fun and to see Sarah. Missing were Natan (rehearsal), Amira (Daniel's oldest, had a field trip at school and got home late), and the rest of Sarah's crew (Michael in Belgium, Benjy busy and Elisheva in training in the army). Jon, et al, were busy and that was fine. I wasn't looking for a 21 gun salute.

We had a good time. We laughed, drank scotch, ate pizza, pancakes and salad and felt happy. It was the first time in my adult memory that I sat around and had dinner with family members, other than the immediate, to share my birthday. I even got presents, which was so nice and it made the whole day great. Meaning, had I not gotten presents it still would have been nice but everyone likes to be remembered once in a while with a little something. The pizza was dandy, Sarah baked an excellent apple cake (she knows what I like and this way we saved our burned but still tasty cake for Shabbat) and the company was perfect. My first birthday in Israel, (actually my second but that was 24 years ago), not bad at all.

Reunions

2007-01-08T21:04:00.000+02:00

You may wonder where I've been the last week and a half. I've been managing sick bay here at Rabenu Politi #3. Ira, as many of his readers know, has been down and out - a bit of pneumonia the doctor said (altho it did take 2 doctors to arrive at this diagnosis), a horrible cough that grew out of a dust attack - that's what happens when you don't vaccum for a well - from our living room carpet, a few nights without sleep for the both of us and then, the piece de resistance, smacking his head, amid a coughing fit, onto the bathroom doorpost, which being a steel frame, was ill advised to say the least. This resulted in a trip to the local emergency clinic, which went surprisingly well and was filled with fluey adults and sniffly kids and Ira with his luch in kup/hole in head. It is an impressive wound and it's healing nicely, glued up into a nice, 2" scabby looking wound (and will no doubt leave a lovely scar), which when combined with the now unearthly sound of Ira's voice - he's lost it entirely - makes him seem a little like He Who Must Not Be Named (for all you Harry Potter fans).

In the midst of all this misadventure, Akiva got sick - light virus and congestion but it passed reasonably well and only required one night of sleeping on the foof nearby in case of 3am barfing and Gabe continues to hack - yes, we'll take him to the doctor this week. Natan and I are both lightly sinusy and I've got a cough but have held up well under the strain of cups of tea and honey brewed and pots of soup prepared. By Shabbat, we were all beat though, and it was rainy and nasty and we all stayed home and worked on a puzzle, which was nice.

As to the reunion of my title. When I was in Israel in 1982, I lived with Barbara Hurwitz. Barb and I were both doing Sherut La'am, a sort of Peace Corps progam here in Israel. We shared an apt in Z'fat up north and later that year lived together in Jerusalem. The idea was that you lived in a Development Town and did some sort of worthy work. I worked with 2 women who had created an inovative drama/arts program for the local schools and Barbara did something else but I can no longer remember what. It was a great year. That December, we went on a tiyul/trip with Sherut La'am during Chanukah, hiking in the Negev, the south. It was a chance for all of the Sherut La'am'niks to meet and greet and have fun. We had a ball. On day 2, I believe, Barbara met Jay Shofet, her husband of 21 years or so. Actually, I met him first...but anyway, it was all moot once they laid eyes on each other. The three of us had alot of fun together that year and returned home to NYC after the year. Jay and I discovered a few interesting connections that year. One, that he was from Millerton, not far from Camp Ramah in the Berkshires, and had actually gone to Webatuck High School, which amazed me, having driven past it on numerous occasions and two, that his mother, Shirley Abrahamson Shoifet, had grown up in New Brittain, Ct, where my father hails from. When we were Stateside that June, our respective parents chatted on the phone and enjoyed reconnecting - they had known each other as kids (it was a small Jewish community) - but it didn't go beyond that.

Flash to 2006 and Jay and Barb were marking their younger son, Nadav's Bar Mitzvah. All the grandparents and family came in from the US. There were Jay's parents, whom I haven't seen in sometime. They brought with them a picture of the Hebrew School of New Brittain, Ct, circa 1942/3. There was my father, Jay's mom and various other names from my father's past. As well, Jay's Cousin Judy was at the BarM and she and her husband, Irving (what else), are bosom buddies of my cousin Joe Brodie, also from New Brittain. Shirley took one look at Natan and pronounced him the spitting image of Teddy Steinberg. He does look alot like my Dad, esp when you look at pics from his teenage years. So...after some delays, a meeting was arranged and I met up with Shirley and her husband, Jake along with Jay, at my parents house this afternoon.

It was really nice for my Dad. Essentially, he left New Brittain at around 14 to attend a Mesivta on East Broadway. After he finished there, he went on to Yeshiva University for College and Rabbinical School. Although he frequently went home for Shabbatot and holidays, he didn't keep up his ties with all of the buddies of his youth - the guys that he played baseball with and, according to Shirley, "cut up around town with." As well, it gave him a chance to talk about all the names of peoples and streets and locations of New Brittain of the 1930's and 40's. His parents eventually left New Brittain along with some of the family, and ended up in Norwich, Ct (some went to Hartford), so my Dad would drive thru on occasion to visit the cemetery or go see a friend who was local pharmacist but those trips were few and far between. He's been nostalgic lately and this was the perfect opportunity to indulge those feelings. Shirley was great, she remembers everything and everyone and was a font of information about who had married whom and where they had gone.

We took some pictures and I'll have to see if I can download them from my phone and send them around to the 2 families. I was reminded of this great kid's book that everyone should read and it's called, "Wilfred Gordon McDonald Partridge" and it's about people and their memories. It's written by Julie Vivas and beautifully illustrated by Mem Fox. Read it.

"Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence
A time of confidences
Long ago, it must be I have a photograph
Preserve your memoriesThey're all that's left you"
Paul Simon/Bookends