We are So Smart

Many of you may already know that if you live in Israel you are often told you have to filter your water.  So when we moved in, we had a water filter attached to the water pipe that brings all of the water into our apartment. We are so smart.

And a couple of times a year, for a minimal fee of three million shekel or so (not including tax), a man comes to our apartment, tells me he is going to change the filter, and goes to the lower level where the pipes and stuff are - to do that.  I assume he does it.  That is, I have never followed him to see him actually do it. 

Last year we gave ourselves a treat and bought a water bar. You are wondering what that is.  It is a countertop contraption that is connected to our water supply and has hot and cold water always ready.

Now, we are not just pampering ourselves, no sirree.  Drinking water is extreeeeeeeeemely important here, especially during the 10 month summer. And I do love me some cold water.  So this way we always have fresh, cold water to drink.  We are so smart.

Now. Here we go.  The other day we get a call. This is the water-filter-changer people.  Don't we want a contract on the water bar like we have on the water filter?  Why, of course we do!  We have many millions of shekel just sitting in piles on our floor waiting to be spent on service contracts. After many phone calls, we finally explain that we do want the contract, we negotiate down the originally-inflated-and-ridiculous-price to the price which-is-still-more-than-they-thought-they'd-get ("Ha!  These Americans!  Give them one discount and they love you!  We are so glad they move here!"), and we are good to go.

Now comes the test of everyone's brainpower. Setting the appointment. After another few calls, I speak to someone in English who sets the appointment for Thursday, December 11, when the technai will come and change both filters.  Excellent!  We are so smart.

This morning (Wednesday, December 10) we receive an SMS - "Hi!  The technai is coming today!"

Huh.  OK, so he is coming today instead of tomorrow.  I can deal with that.

At some point he calls and says he's 1/2 hour away.  Sure enough, 1/2 hour later he shows up.  This is going so well!!!

He comes to the door with a big smile. This is how the conversation goes:

Technai: "I'm here to change the filter downstairs." 
Me: "And the filter on the water bar too!"
Technai: "What water bar?"
Me: "You were supposed to be changing two things."
Technai: "No, look, here on this sheet, it has only one item.  But I'll call them and check."

After he changes the one filter, he returns to tell me that someone will come to do the water bar tomorrow.

An hour later I get a call from the company.  It goes like this:

Co.: "I'm calling to set up a time to change the filter on your water bar."
Me: "I thought you were coming tomorrow."
Co: "Tomorrow?  Well, maybe in the morning..."
Me: "But I already had an appointment for the afternoon.  I won't be here in the morning"
Co.: "But you have to be there because that is when the technai can come."
Me: "But I won't be here."
Co.: "Really?"
Me: "Yes, but how about next week?"
Co.: "NEXT WEEK???? YOU WANT TO WAIT THAT LONG????"
Me: "Yes, it's fine. Please make it for Tuesday."
Co.:  "Tuesday? You really want to wait that long?"
Me: "Yes, it'll be fine."
Co.:  "OK......"

So I'll let you know if we come down with dengue fever from drinking water that has been cleaned by a filter that should have been changed today but won't be changed until NEXT TUESDAY.

In the meantime, I have a headache. I'll take my aspirin with juice.

Head Totally and Completely in the Sand

Wow, what a country.  The entire government of Israel has fired itself.

That's it, guys!  This is not working out, we can't agree, so let's fire ourselves and try again to keep our own parties in power!  In the meantime, we sure are glad that the country is safe and stable because no one is home to fix anything! Wheee!

Seriously, though, I am the last person you want to ask about Israeli politics.  Truthfully - I never understood politics, I find it boring, and I hate reading about it, hearing about it, and talking about it. And thinking about it. 

Why? Because it's basically total fabrications.  While we think the conversation goes like this:

• Politician #1: What can we do to help the citizens?
• Politician #2: We can try to work together, even though we have different views, and find a solution to help people!

It probably goes more like this:

• Politician #1:  New car?  It's cool!
• Politician #2: Thanks!  Let's get coffee!

It's all about backroom deals and money anyway, so nothing you read or hear is ever real.  And the media is biased, so that's a double whammy - fake news and biased reporting.  Seriously, folks.

Therefore, I have a policy never to read the paper or watch the news. And when people at the Shabbat table start talking politics, I have perfected the interested face, wise head nod, etc., while thinking, "Hmmm, that cholent sure is good, I wonder what she puts in it?"

My husband is a news devourer who actually understands Israeli politics and is brilliant and knows Israeli history cold. [Now, I know what you're thinking and you're right - why he married me I'll never know. My favorite mass media is, um, less intellectual - e.g., reruns of "I Love Lucy."]

Anyway, he was fretting over Israeli politics and spoke to our Rav, an 8th generation Jerusalemite, who responded to him, "It goes in phases, things are actually getting much better, don't worry!" 

I like that so I adopted that as my mantra.  And, wonder of wonders, my husband decided to stop reading the paper. [Note to readers - this was something which I advised him to do years ago, but which someone with apparently way more influence - and this does not take much - told him to do two weeks ago.]

So now he is joining me in ignoring the media, but while I maintain this approach steadfastly, I doubt he'll last another week.  Guy loves to read and think and discuss.  Sheesh.

So if you want to discuss something meaningful, like which meat is the best in cholent, I'm here for you.

If you want to discuss politics, go for it.  But I promise you that the cholent discussion will have more meaning.

Still Here

Hi, I'm still here.  Between the chagim and the birth of our new twin granddaughters (kiddush!  two kiddushes!), life has been the good kind of busy.

I have had the chance to polish my baby-care skills, which have gotten a bit rusty, but I still remember which side of the Pamper goes on the bottom, how not to drop a newborn in the bath, and how to jiggle a baby to sleep.

Yet as much as our hearts are full of thanks and joy for the new babies, we hear each day about another horrific event in this country in which an innocent person is murdered in order for someone to make a point of some kind.  An entire family is shattered, and we all wonder, "How would we handle that?  How does anyone handle something so random and vicious?  How are there people like that?"

Still, it becomes part of your life.  You sigh, your heart breaks, you go to the grocery store to pick up milk.  You read the news, you look at the pictures of the funerals, you return a book to the library.  Knowing that wherever you walk, wherever you are standing or driving, someone could purposely run you down and end your life - you kind of have to deal with it, yet not focus on it, every day.

Standing in line at the grocery store, I strike up a conversation with an Israeli who notices my less than perfect Hebrew and asks when I came here.  She says, "Well, of course, you had to come, this is home - everyone has to come home eventually."  I love her.  I mean, so much love I feel like crying.

Today I went to the post office - where all of Israel transacts most of its business, sort of like the Old West.  I had received a letter from the Government offering me money!  yay!  So I had to go to the PO and do stuff there.  The woman behind the counter asked me something, and I gave her my usual "dumber than dirt" look in response.  She smiled and said, in her broken English, "I ask eef you work for you-self or somebody else."  I apologized for not understanding.  She looked at me with the warmest smile and said, "You are here, that's what is important, don't worry about the language, ok?"

Felt like crying again. 

It's starting to feel like last summer - everything feels shaky and tentative, scary beyond scary. But we are still here - all of us - and more are coming.  That's our answer - a warm smile, love for one another, and staying power.  It'll be OK.

Erev Rosh Hashanah - The Sewer, the Nectarines, and the Drama

Well, it's been quite a while since I've written anything - my many fans have asked me what happened, and both of you (Hi, Gila!  Hi, Leezy!) deserve a response.

I guess between the war, the heat, and life I just did not feel very amusing for the past few weeks.  Amusing-ness is slowly returning, although hearing yesterday that there was a terrorist action planned in Gush Etzion for Rosh Hashana did not do much to lighten my mood.

But here are some interesting anecdotes for your pre-Rosh Hashanah reading:

1. The sewer cover
A few weeks ago I noticed a clunk-clunk sound outside my window.  I figured something had fallen in the street and cars were driving over it.  Then I realized that it was a loose sewer cover.  For some reason (nerves on edge anyway after this summer) it really bothered me.  I mean, I got to figure out what KIND of vehicle was driving over the sewer cover by the length of time between clunk 1 and clunk 2 (long delay - truck, tiny delay - motorcycle).  My son in law Donny then asked his Israeli friends which terms to use to complain about this.  And guess what?  I called the city office and complained - in Hebrew! Yesterday!  And guess what?  It got fixed!  Yesterday!  Moshiach is coming!

2. The treif nectarines
Yesterday I took my grandson Yaakov to the toy store.  He had some of his own money and wanted to spend it on something for himself.  Of course, since Bubby took him Bubby purchased the toy, as well as toys for everyone else, and told Yaakov to keep his shekel for another time.  This resulted in a huge smile and big hug and kiss.  Totally worth it.

Anywayyyyy, after the toy store I noticed a grocery store right there, and since I needed the requisite "last few things" before chag.  I went in.  Lo and behold they had nectarines - I loooooove nectarines but we are at the end of the season here and my local store didn't have many this week.  I was so happy and bought a bunch of them.  Came home and told Gila, who proceeded to laugh at me.  "Ha, ha, that's the TREIF store!"  Yes, folks, I managed to buy fruit at the one store in Modiin that is truly treif - meaning their fruits and vegetables do not have trumot and maaserot taken from them, and they actually sell pork.  Of course, I had eaten one of the nectarines before I called her. Oops.

This resulted in my immediately dumping the nectarines into the trash as if they were poison.  Funny how these things affect you two days before Rosh Hashana. Then,. many inquiries later, I was told that I did not need to do this (thank you Gila, thank you Kate) and retrieved the fruit from the trash (yes, I washed them) and then performed a lengthy ceremony in which I did the terumot and maaserot taking myself, and let me tell you it was interesting. It involved a cloth, 1/4 of a nectarine, and money.  And a trash can.  Don't ask.

3. Building drama
OOOH, this one is good. In Modiin there are extremely strict laws about adding to one's home - I mean they actually come around and check to make sure you have not changed anything which might result in the city squeezing 100 more shekel out of you for your property tax.

Well, it is a lengthy process to get approval to do anything but one of our building-mates came around asking all of us to sign our OK on his plan to cover his mirpeset with a pergola.  "Sure," we thought, "why not?"  Well, suffice it to say that had we seen a drawing of the monstrosity that he was going to erect, none of us would have agreed.  This new structure has caused untold grief and anguish among the other apartment owners.  It is amusing to watch Israelis argue.  

4. Shmittah
Oh, and shmittah starts tomorrow, so watch for some interesting "Oy! I forgot to save the peels!" anecdotes as the year progresses.  I have read all of the literature and I still have no idea what to do.


So with that, I wish all (both) of you a year of health, fulfillment, unending joy, and kosher nectarines. 

Raw

SPOILER ALERT: I'm not saying anything here that you haven't read in a million other blogs and posts.  But writing it out helps me deal with it. So this one is really for me.
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I knew when we made aliyah that we would be living in a country where everything revolves around the army.

After all, everyone serves (well, almost everyone, but that's a topic for another writer, not me) in some capacity.  Every single man and woman I see here in Modiin has served in the army, and every single boy and girl I see will do the same.

In our everyday life - post office, mall, grocery - we see soldiers with their rifles slung across their backs doing everyday things. They are handsome/beautiful, strong, and my heart melts because they are our Jewish boys and girls.  Our children.  Babies.  Going off to defend our country, to be trained to kill if need be, but also to be full of mercy and caring.  Show me a picture of a soldier putting on tefillin and I weep. It is possibly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

And then they get sent off to battle sites.  And then they die. 

I see the faces of their parents and siblings and grandparents at the funerals of these young heroes and I can't even find a word for what it makes me feel.

We in Modiin have only experienced three sirens so far, and I thought I handled them well.  We even took a "selfie" in the safe room.  We heard the boom overhead, and knew that a rocket had been intercepted by our Iron Dome.

That was last week when it was just a rocket war.  Now it's a ground war.  And the battle site is about a 1.5 hour drive from my house.  Now I literally jump at strange sounds, and think every whine of a truck coming down the street is a siren.  I can't imagine feeling at ease ever again.

In America, "war" was a foreign idea to me - it was always somewhere else, and being fought by soldiers whom I admired but had no connection with.   Only those who enlisted voluntarily would fight, and it was rare that that was someone from my circle of acquaintances and family.

Here it's all not just people you know and see - it's your family.  Every face of a soldier killed in action could be the face of my child or grandchild.  You can't help but feel it.  It is in the family and it is raw, but raw is OK.  Raw is real.  It is not a game, it is not over there, it is right here.

Come Home

The past almost three weeks has been something I never could have imagined.  Living here, seeing the pain on the face of every single person you come across in your daily life, the agony grew and grew.

And now, they are buried. Three boys gone, three families devastated, an entire country in mourning.

All we wanted was for them to come home.

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There is apparently a phrase "Aliyah snob."  Meaning someone who has made aliyah and then throws it around among non-Olim, acting all superior about how they've "done it" and "you should too."

Well, you can call me what you like but here is my lesson from the past 19 days:  Please, please - come home.

Yes, I only made aliyah because my kids did.  Yes, we came when we, unfortunately, no longer had aging parents to take care of.  Yes, yes, yes.

But do you know what?  

We only realize now that the whole time we were living in Baltimore we could have been living a real life here.  Once we became Israelis, once we begain to live here and got our Israeli IDs and became a part of our homeland in the real sense, we realized that THIS was the life we had always been looking for.  It was here all along and we found every reason in the world not to come here.

So, let me just say this - THIS is the life you are looking for.  It is not "full of meaning" - it IS meaning.  I'm sure I'm not saying this very well, but our lives are so different now - our souls are so different - that I almost feel that if I don't share this I'm not fulfilling some task that I need to do.

So please. Please come home. Come live where you are meant to live, in the way you are meant to live, in the place Hashem gave us to live.

Together

So it's been a week since we first heard about the three boys kidnapped on their way home from yeshiva for Shabbat.

Three 16 year old children - taken, grabbed, scared, not able to be home for Shabbat with their families.

Everyone's heart was broken, is broken, until we hear good news.

As parents, we can't even let our minds roam to what these six parents must be thinking and feeling.  It's so unimaginable that our minds don't let us go there.

But then there comes the reaction - what I've been calling (to myself) the "together."

A divided Jewish nation, often ranting and raving at each other for whatever reason, suddenly becomes one. These boys are our boys, our children, our babies, and we cry our hearts out with worry and fear.  What is happening to them?  Are they scared? Hurt?  Are they at least together?

We gather, big black hats next to no hats, long skirts next to shorts and tank tops, to pray, to hold each other, to give each other strength and hope.

Every picture of a tefila gathering tears at us - why can't we always be like this? Helping, unified, all with one purpose in mind?  Why do we keep finding ways to argue and one-up each other?  What's that all about?

Every time (unfortunately there have been a lot of them) something like this happens, our reaction is always to be together, give each other strength, and show those who are suffering that we are with them. We suddenly become blind to what the person next to us is wearing, what is on their head, where they go (or do not go) to pray.

I'm not naive, I know we're going to go back to the "apart" soon enough.  But that hurts, and it hurts deep inside of me.  Because I hate what is going on with those adorable young boys but I love that as a people we can put everything aside and embrace each other.

Our people has suffered so much, so deeply, and unfortunately we have shown the world how to deal with tragedy and keep going.  But we were also created to show the world how to love and care with every part of our soul..

מי כעמך ישראל