Archives for 2006

Ups and downs

It is fascinating to watch people coping with this war. In addition to the cookers and the cleaners, there are the watchers (of the news) and the listeners (to the news) and the avoiders (of all news) and those, like me, who regulate the amount of news they can tolerate on an hour by hour basis. There are some days that I am with the news almost constantly and others that I spend very little time listening or watching. And I believe that each and every person has his or her own way of coping.

But, strangely enough, life goes on, albeit in a sadder tone.

Today I took my daughter to Raanana to make a shiva call at the home of a family whose son, a major in the Israeli Army, had been killed in the fierce battle with Hezbollah that took place north of Avivim. His story, like so many others, is tragic. He had married only three weeks ago. He and his wife had just begun to set up their home. The son of Anglo immigrants, he seems to have been someone who everyone loved. My daughter was visiting because she had been a coworker of his mother.

While in Raanana, we took a walk on the tree lined main street which was bustling with traffic and populated by stores filled with wares that spilled out onto the sidewalk. People were sitting in cafes and people were walking through the street as if it were just a normal day. I remarked to my daughter that had I taken a videotape of our walk today, no one would have believed that things here are so normal.

Of course in the North they are anything but normal. By this morning, before the day’s barrage of rockets, Nahariya, a lovely seaside town where we spent a weekend this past winter, had sustained damage to 500 buildings. And that is only in one town. Hezbollah has hit in or around every town in the North of Israel.

So there is simultaneously this sense of things being fine and of pain and loss and destruction. And this week we added into the mix one more factor.

On Friday July 14, our youngest son and his wife presented us with a darling new granddaughter. This past Thursday she was given the name “Shira”. We pray that she will grow up in a country that will be safe and secure and where none will make her afraid.

Disproportionate mercy

Today, as I was watching CNN (we get CNN Europe, which, I am told differs from CNN in the USA and I hope that is correct) I became outraged. One of the talking heads was talking about the middle east and all of the terrible things that are happening here. She (I think it was a she; I at first tried to repress this because I didn’t want to become hypertensive) was talking about how people were affected and spoke of “the refugees from Lebanon arriving in Syria with tales of horror” and the Israelis “watching missiles land.” Now let’s see: I suppose the woman in Nahariya who saw her husband approaching the shelter where she and her small children were taking refuge and then saw him be so obliterated by a direct missile hit that there were only a few small pieces left could be said to have watched a missile land. That is indeed true. But I, as a somewhat compassionate person would be tempted to think of that as a tale of horror.

But wait…. I have forgotten something…. he was a Jew. When Jews are killed, well, that’s OK. When arabs are killed, that’s horror.

View from the shelter

This is a piece written a couple of days ago by someone who is on an email list in Israel. Although I don’t normally post other people’s articles, her personal experience is something I wanted to share with you. I am most grateful for her permission to use this.
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I’ve kinda lost track of days and such, but since I work at a hospital in Safed, I decided to stay here for a couple of nights. I have everything I need and the miklat [shelter] is much nicer than the one in the neighborhood. Sunday nite the hospital had a near-hit. A katyusha fell at the periphery of the main building. There was no structural damage to speak of, but tons of broken glass. 14 staff were treated for shock. I was either under my dining room table or in my local miklat in Karmiel at the time, but not everyone was so “lucky.”

The miracle is that the attack took place at about 10-11 p.m., so the public areas were empty, and the heads of departments had already taken the precaution of moving patients from the north to the south side of the building, and mommies and babies had been relocated to the day surgery center in the bowels of the main building. All but one window in the Pediatrics dept were blown out by the force of the blast as were most of those in the surgical ward, the waiting rooms, and others.

A 13 year old boy recovering from surgery for a ruptured spleen and internal bleeding was watching t.v. in the dining room when the blast took place and was hit in the head by flying glass, suffering a nasty, deep gash. No brain injuries, but lots of stitches. A patient in the orthopedics dept, recovering from shrapnel wounds and the subsequent surgeries, was thrown out of his bed. He said he could feel the whole building move.

Sunday and yesterday (Tuesday) I heard loud booms and saw the aftermath of rockets which had fallen across the wadi, some hundreds of meters away, but scarey enough to see out of your office window…

I met with 4 groups of reporters yesterday (they’ve discovered us!) Most of them were really professional—-but when the chickie from CBS called to make an appointment for 8 PM and asked if there was any chance that they could interview a patient who had been hurt by this attack (yes), and wanted to know whether — by chance he might be from New York (nooooo — Safed by way of Morocco), she decided to come but not to interview. “I really wanted to talk to someone from NY, or at least an American,” she said. I told her that I was sorry that I hadn’t received more notice so that I could have arranged to have an American wounded for her… It went right over her head.

BTW, they showed up at 10:30.

Anyhow, I’m tired and testy. Slept in the cardiology ‘benoni’ room [step-down unit] with 4 other women, one of whom sounded just like a diesel truck warming up on a cold winter’s day. I don’t do well on hospital mattresses (and who does?), so I was up at 3:30 again. But it was nice to have other people around whom I know. And since I have a vacation in the US scheduled for a few weeks, perhaps I will catch up on sleep there.

Something I didn’t anticipate was that my grandkids are watching the news on t.v. in America. They are 12 and 7. I had no idea they watched the news or that they had any understanding. Apparently they are very upset and the 7 year old just wants to hold his Bugs Bunny. And that’s from yo-many thousands of miles away. The kids here are really suffering, as most of you parents must know. I know of two families among my acquaintances who had to go as far south as they could just so the children would stop having panic attacks.

This is really (fill in your expletive), this massive, indiscriminate bombardment of innocents.

Stay safe,
Sylvia

Another day

It’s another surrealistic day in Israel. All day long Hezbollah has been lobbing rockets our way as well as mortars. They have hit pretty much every place in the North that people live. At times they were firing over 70 an hour. Most, thank G-d, landed in open fields starting fires, but not harming homes or people. However, some did damage to livestock—one hit alone killed tens of cattle. And the constant firing means that farmers can’t tend their livestock or their crops. However, once again, we paid the highest price with two soldiers killed in a firefight and three Israeli Arabs killed in Nazareth.

Shimon Peres, a well-known dove, former friend and confidante of Yassir Arafat, said today, “What does Hezbollah want? We have nothing that belongs to them. We have not threatened them.” He understands the irrationality of their hate, a hate so great that they put all of Israel and all of Lebanon in danger. I called my daughter up this evening and told her to make a note of this day. Chaim Ramon, a man whose opinions have been predictably diametrically opposed to mine was saying exactly what I believe—that this is a battle we HAVE to win. This is a battle that the Western world needs us to win. We are the front line in the terror war and we can’t afford to cave for our own sakes and for the sake of the rest of the freedom loving nations.

Our days here in Modi’in are fairly calm. It’s quiet outside and there is a warm breeze. At the health club this afternoon, I biked while watching our soldiers firing mortars and heard the reporters speaking as katyushas landed around them. I heard about the terror alert that paralyzed the center of the country until the terrorist and his explosives were located and the attack was prevented. I saw the battle in Nablus around the Mukata, I heard about the Kassams being fired from Gaza and heard about the man who died from a heart attack after a Kassam landed nearby. His brother had been killed in a terror attack about a year ago.

We pray for our soldiers, for those in the line of fire, for our leaders to continue to lead us with wisdom, and for G-d’s help in this just cause.

If you are interested in getting a newscast from Israel in English, this URL will be helpful to you. Thanks for all of the public and private support. I could never tell you how much it means to us.

From the home front

Another day has passed and with it more rockets landing from Lebanon. For those who are worried about us, I need to recount a phone conversation I had tonight. Our daughter’s in-laws live in Haifa and I spoke with her mother-in-law tonight, again offering to house them for as long as they would like to spend here. She answered that they are fine. They feel safe. They have been in their house reading, listening to music, watching television, taking advantage of the time at home to get things done. They are fine. They are not worried.

Of course, we in the center of the country feel safe and confident, but it is particularly reassuring to me that those in the line of fire are just as confident.

And a personal note: Our youngest granddaughter who will reach the ripe old age of a week on Friday and still has not been named, is very adorable. We enjoyed visiting her and her siblings on Tuesday. And it felt very nice to pick up our younger daughter and her husband who returned in the middle of the night from a trip overseas. It’s good to have them back home.

What a people!

What a people we are! Today our enemies attacked firing kassams in the south (in Ashqelon and Sderot), in the center (a terrorist was caught in downtown Jerusalem carrying a bomb in preparation for an attack) and firing katyushas in the north (Haifa, Safed, Meiron, Kiryat Shmona, Acre, Tiberias, Talal, Julis, Abu Snan, Kafr Yassif and other towns across the north) and yet we hold strong. One after another the government ministers, the mayors, the police all report the same thing: our people are saying “stay the course” “we can do this” “we are with you.” In Haifa where one building took a direct hit, the owner of the apartment said, “This is what we are involved in and this is part of it.”

I still don’t understand anyone’s criticism. Is there any possibility that these attacks on any other civilized country would be met with as much restraint as our forces are using? If the US were attacked on two of its borders and were a terrorist caught on the same day in Washington, do you really think it would absorb the blow? If they are targeting homes in our cities, what would be a proportional response? Targeting homes in their cities? When the Israel air force went after a civilian area that houses Hezbollah’s supplies and infrastructure, they dropped leaflets hours before warning civilians to leave the area so they wouldn’t be harmed. And the world says we use disproportional responses!

They can never defeat us. This is a people like none other. We are one large family. Yes, we squabble when things are going well, but comes a crisis and we truly are one.

Living through the war

This past shabbat, my husband and I went to the home of friends. When we arrived, our hostess warned us that she had made a lot of food since it was her way of coping with the war. On Saturday afternoon, one of her friends came over and mentioned that she was stuffed because she had made lots of food as her way of coping with the war.

Never having had the urge, I couldn’t relate to making food as a coping mechanism. I would have imagined that my main coping mechanism was watching or listening to the news, but today I found myself moving furniture, scrubbing the floor, and washing- scrubbing the handles on my kitchen cabinets. I began to realize that it was another way that I had of dealing with this war.

And this war isn’t a very easy thing to conceptualize. On the one hand, the simple truth is that we have enemies that desire my death and the death of all of my children, grandchildren, friends, and neighbors. They would enjoy seeing my blood running in the street. They target apartment houses, soccer fields, schools, pizza restaurants, and shopping centers so much desiring blood that they praise those who blow themselves up to accomplish their goals. They have never lied about how much of our country they want (all of it). So that should be simple.

But it isn’t, because we as Jews and Israelis don’t have the same values. I don’t know one person in this country who wouldn’t want a solution that allows us to live and let live. Were the Arabs to say to us (and mean it) “we just want to live our lives, raise our children, plant our gardens, go to theater and concerts and movies with you Jews (or separately from you Jews)” there is no one I know on the left or right who would have a problem with it. Land could be shared. Municipalities could have more or less autonomy. All of it could be solved, but we need them to care about their own lives more than they care about ruining ours.

We want simply to live. We have so much to give. When we left Gaza, the Arabs who had been working with us in agriculture begged us to stay. They had good jobs and were providing for their families. They knew that what we left would be destroyed by the other Arabs—and it was.

So we experience sadness and desperation and the pain of losing our beautiful young soldiers and sailors and the men and women and children killed in this war. But we also experience something amazing: the magnificence of the Israelis. We see kindness that is unparalleled… people taking in people they have never met so that they will be safe; singers performing for people who are in shelters; television programs that exude love and caring for our people; people collecting toys and games for the children who are in shelters; others collecting toiletries and snack foods for our soldiers. I have never seen such kindness. This nation pulls together as one. It reminds me of the rhetorical question in the liturgy “who is like your people Israel?” At times like these, they are magnificent.

But the kindness doesn’t stop there. I have received emails from many many of the people we know in the States telling us that they are thinking of us, praying for us, supporting us, standing with us. There is such kindness in the world. May it help us defeat the hate.

I’ve had it!

OK, the world has offically gotten on my last nerve.

I won’t go into ancient history that would affirm that this land has been the land of the Jews since Abraham. I won’t expound modern history that would show that there was no such thing as the “Palestinian people” until after 1967 when suddenly the Arabs decided that the Arab people so outnumbering the Jews could never be looked upon as victims, so they had to form a sub-group that was a “minority” and now have created a myth of a people that never had its own land or culture.

I will just speak about the past few years. On May 24, 2000, Israel completed the withdrawal of its forces from southern Lebanon in accordance with UN Security Council Resolution 425. The UN affirmed that Israel had left all Lebanese territory. That didn’t stop Hezbollah from shelling our positions and kidnapping our soldiers. And there were kidnappings that were foiled that hardly made the news.

Last August, Israel expelled 7000 Jews from their homes in Gaza– people who lived on lands that had NEVER been occupied by Arabs. In fact, when they came to settle there, the local Arabs greeted them with bread and salt and wondered how these people planned to live on the sand. But that expulsion didn’t stop the rocket attacks on our cities or the murder and kidnapping of our soldiers.

Then we elected a new prime minister who (I think, foolishly) vowed to withdraw (expell Jews) from Judea and Samaria to try and establish a border with a fledgling Palestinian state (made up of a majority who applaud the murder of Jews.)

But that didn’t sate our enemies.

And now, the world has the nerve to tell us to act with restraint! Don’t they realize that the Arabs want us dead and gone and want to erase Israel from the map! Listen to Hezbollah’s broadcasts. Last night they referred to Haifa as being occupied land. So is, in their mind, Jaffa, Jerusalem, Lod, Rechovot…. Wait. I don’t have time to list all of the cities in Israel because if you look at their map of Palestine, it includes ALL of Israel.

Folks! We are fighting for our lives. We are fighting today in the north and in the south because all of this country is within range of their rockets. We live about 3 kilometers from an Arab village. Former cordial relations have been disrupted by the radicalization of their populations. Ever since the west has begun singing its song of moral equivalence with the refrain of “both sides” and “cycle of violence” and has advised Israel to “exercise restraint”, the Arabs have felt emboldened. They see themselves as having been taken seriously and realize that there is sympathy for their cause. It helps them maintain the hope that they will eventually wipe us out.

We must win this time. We can’t afford to lose. We’re betting our lives on it.

Unraveling a yarn

Yesterday I responded to a notice on our community mailing list. A woman had posted that she had a garbage bag full of yarn and knitting needles and she was giving it away. Since I use yarn frequently these days to make blankets for my new grandchildren when they are born, I could not pass up the offer. So I called her and arranged to pick up the yarn.

When I got home I started going through the bag. There were multiple balls of the same colors and types of yarn—a nubby gray-green, a very thick off-white, a very thin red, and some nubby off-whites. However, there were also works in progress: about half of the back of a black sweater with red rectangles, but with no further yarn to finish it; the front of a salmon-colored mohair vest for a thin person, most likely a child, and a small aqua mohair skirt still on the round knitting needle.

I began to feel like an intruder on the knitter’s world. I wondered about her. I understood that the woman who had given away the garbage bag full was not the knitter. No one would give away their half-finished work. A perfectionist would finish it. A defeatist would throw it away. It had to have belonged to someone else.

But what happened to her? Did she pass away, in the middle of her work? Did she become disabled so that finishing it was not an option?

I picture her sitting and working. The black and red sweater, I imagine, was for a grandson. I recall my own mother knitting, most likely a sweater for herself, and one of my sons asking for a sweater too. Did this woman’s grandson ask for a sweater? Did she sit and knit it with the anticipation of his delight when she presented him with it?

Was the salmon vest for a granddaughter? Did she think of the child’s dark shiny braids contrasting with the brilliant hue of the sweater? And the skirt? Was this a skirt for another granddaughter? Was this the beginning of a project that included a skirt and a top that the child was going to wear to a special occasion?

And now all that is left are the pieces—pieces of potential—of a life that reached out to others and left things unfinished.

But I wonder…. Did this woman who devoted her time and energy to others express her love in other ways? Did she smile and tell stories as she knit amidst her family? Did she leave them with happy memories of a warmth and acceptance that will stay with them always?

And I wonder… I used to think that leaving a project in the middle was a negative thing, but I suppose that if I had my choice, I would be engaged in creating until the very end and the unfinished pieces would only be more evidence of the love that I felt for my family. I would hope that they would be able to see those unfinished pieces and smile, picturing my happiness at attempting to bring more beauty and love into their lives.

I’m back

No, I have not been captured by aliens. I have not been ill. I have not been upset, depressed, or preoccupied. I have been traveling. For the last 9 days, we visited Moscow and St. Petersburg, Russia.

As long as I can recall, I have had a mental map of Russia as a dark and frightening place. After all, throughout my childhood they were trying to “bury” us and we looked upon them as an evil empire. And, indeed, there was repression and a lack of any semblance of freedom. Russia and its satellites, the USSR, were closed to the west. They feared democracy and capitalism. They suppressed religion. People we wanted to participate in Jewish prayer or even study Hebrew were harassed and often arrested. But now, a decade and a half after the breakup of the Soviet Union, it is a travel destination.

To say that it was beautiful would be an understatement. We visited palaces filled with such opulence that it took one’s breath away. We saw the onion-shaped spires on the cathedrals, painted and formed with the appearance of marzipan candy. We saw the canals St. Petersburg. We saw the hundreds of fountains of Peterhof. We saw art that was indescribable in the Pushkin Gallery, the Kremlin Armory, and, of course, the Hermitage. In the Hermitage, we were able to see the hidden collection—paintings that were stolen from private families by the Nazis. These paintings were brought to St. Petersburg after the Second World War and hidden. They were only shown for the first time in 1995 and to this day, one is not permitted to take any photographs of them because the Russians do not plan to return them to the families who had once owned them. Among these paintings were a large number of paintings by impressionist masters.

So beauty was one large theme of the trip. Beauty was everywhere: in the underground stations, in the beautiful neo-classical buildings, in the large number of parks and gardens. We enjoyed a number of performances of folklore, a capella singing, a circus, and a ballet. The people on the streets too were beautiful. The Russian women, by and large, dress well and are lovely to look at.

Another theme for me was that of the resurgence of Jewish life in Russia. Particularly in Moscow, the community is active and there is life. There is a large community center in Moscow that offers classes and cultural activities, but also affords the Jewish people there exercise equipment, a gym, a library/resource center with about 50 computers, a large performance hall, and a very elegant kosher catering facility that serves delicious food. The building is modern, spotless, and is used each day by hundreds of people.

I felt in Moscow and St Petersburg what I had felt in Budapest—people trying to recover from years of repression and neglect. Everywhere things were being rebuilt and renovated. Workers stood on scaffolding chipping and patching and painting the walls of buildings in warm ochres, and blues and roses. One got the feeling that in a few years, everything will be painted and fixed and the cities will be even more beautiful than they are now.

I have posted a selection of the pictures I took.