First Funeral

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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