Ezi spent a day making a Dobos torte for Oren’s birthday. I was so hoping we’d get our whole family together to celebrate it, but we couldn’t seem to get our times together. Maybe my madness is coming out – that i’m afraid of my own grandchildren, my own children, and wasn’t assertive enough about the times. I’ve noticed my increasing paranoia, my fear of going out to Jaffa, my hunger for communication ameliorated by the occasional zoom. All along, I thought I was as sane as could be expected. Thank goodness we’re going on the Israel Trail tomorrow. Even though it is really hard to hike with a mask, it’s still more sane to commune with nature…
never mind – we’ll still have a birthday party – and many more – this is a month of family birthdays, and we have to celebrate a few before the next shutdown.
When my late mother-in-law would travel to Jerusalem from Tel Aviv in the 1920’s, she would set out with her family in the late afternoon, after the hot sun had begun to descend, so the horses would not get tired. hear. By the evening they would reach the inn at Shaar Ha’Gai, Bab El Wad, and sleep there. Early in the morning they would begin the ascent to Jerusalem, where her grandparents lived (On Yaffo Road, in the building with the lions where the police station is now). Last year we drove there (30 minutes from Tel Aviv) and found that the inn was undergoing renovations. I didn’t think about the song, “Bab El Wad,” from the War of Independence and the battle for Jerusalem. Bab El Wad was the gate to the city.
באב אל וואד, לנצח זכור נא את שמותינו, שיירות פרצו בדרך אל העיר. בצידי הדרך מוטלים מתינו.
שלד הברזל שותק כמוי רעי
Bab al Wad remember our names forever convoys broke through on the way to the city
Our dead lie on the roadsides The iron skeleton is as silent as my mates.
Today the building has been commemorated as a national memorial. I forgot to mention that the poem “Bad El Wad” was written by Haim Guri, the poet of the Palmach generation. I wonder what he would have thought of the opening ceremony – he would probably have loved the fact that history was being foregrounded but hated the fact that the right had co-opted history.
When the sun came out this afternoon, around noon, I really wanted to go for a walk. But not where there were people. I was really paranoid about this part. People have become our enemy.
Anyway, Ezi drove to Jaffa. He wanted to see what was left of his grandfather’s hangars – but there was really nothing to see. I don’t know what the plans for the future are instead of those hangars – but they look really big. And people were celebrating everywhere. Look how gorgeous:
the world outside is of course going to hell – not only have we let hell loose by opening up schools and shopping malls at the same time, but a top Iranian nuclear scientist has been assassinated. Whether we were involved our not, we’re to blame and we will pay. So we stay home. In fact, the worse the news, the more we make cakes. Right now, Ezi is making a Dobos Torte. Write me for the recipe
Me, I’m finishing up the poems that I wrote with Robert Priest so we can record them next week as a disk. Here’s an example:
in these times of trouble I sometimes feel an incredible urge to connect with people who may be ill, or lonely, or in need. Usually I take an aspirin and lie down until the feeling goes away. Because I know it isn’t going to lead to an improvement of the person’s situation, and I can’t do much to change that situation, but it will definitely make me feel bad. Tonight a former student called and reminisced about the times she used to visit me when all the kids were living here and we had a dog and everything was happening. I was beginning to feel nostalgic about the good old days but then I realized her situation was so bad now that her happy days were long ago and in her situation it will never get better than it was then. i wish i could help her, somehow connect her with a partner, get her an eye doctor that could improve her situation, or at least help her find a job that she could do with other people. but i know i can’t, so all i can do is wish her well, embrace her virtually, and then go off feeling sad.
and yet we must connect. we are so busy with our survival and the difficulties of overcoming the obstacles to communication that sometimes we forget the old people, the weak, or even just the old friends that need a little boost. let’s try, just a little harder. i will. i promise.
Despite all the summer street work, the enormous efforts to improve our drainage in the neighborhood, we have a river going through our street, and even a short walk in impossible.
So we look up the place where Bibi went to meet with the Saudis. At first it seems like the end of the world – but if we wait a year I think it will be a little paradise. See?
it must be a perfect place to rendez-vous – close enough to Eilat to make it a morning jaunt. Maybe once we’re finished with this plague we’ll be able to engage a suite in a five star hotel on their incredible beach… Or maybe we’ll be at war. I’m kind of counting on that beach, but right now we’re at the barely talking stage.
in the meantime, the rain has stopped for the afternoon and we can try to face the reality of a government that can’t get together on a single thing, a leader under investigation for some serious crimes, and a country that is opening itself up to the third wave of corona.
i think i’d rather go back to the fantasy of Neom with its artificial moon.