So everyone has a deadline, and I have to sign off on all of them. doctoral candidates have extended their extensions as far as they can, and now everything has to be approved. Then there’s a whole bunch of programs to arrange, birthday parties to celebrate, And we’re going to Zichron tomorrow to celebrate Ezi’s birthday. and then back home to continue the celebration for the weekend.

So I’m ignoring the politics. It’s messy and dirty, and there isn’t enough soap to help clean it up. It’s a pleasure to be ignorant.

I even had coffee with one of my students this afternoon in my favorite square. She grew up there in the old days, when Peres and Rabin lived, and Naomi Shemer down the street and felt very wistful of the good old days – and I pointed out that Efraim Kishon’s son and Aharoni now have shops here next to each other, and there were local celebrities all around us. That’s because it is simple in this country to stand out, to become famous, to become influential. And I suddenly felt terrible that I was trying to be uninvolved. We all have a responsibbility to be active here, to be involved.

that’s the problem with staying close to home for so long.  once you get out you want to do everything at once.  And you forget half of it because you’re no longer capable of remembering scheduling like this.   At 5 today I’m talking about Israel Emiot, although whether in Hebrew or Yiddish I don’t yet know.  Then i meet with Oren, then rush back to run a little workshop at 8.  i can’t skip any of it and my jaw is still aching from today at the dentist.  and all i want to do is sleep.

that’s the problem with staying close to home for so long.  once you get out you want to do everything at once.  And you forget half of it because you’re no longer capable of remembering scheduling like this.   At 5 today I’m talking about Israel Emiot, although whether in Hebrew or Yiddish I don’t yet know.  Then i meet with Oren, then rush back to run a little workshop at 8.  i can’t skip any of it and my jaw is still aching from today at the dentist.  and all i want to do is sleep

The Land  of Israel Museum – we used to call it, until we began to realize to what extent we were imposing a political half-truth on the landscape.   

as if all the history of civilization was incorporated into the existence of the state of Israel.  

When Tamar learns something about how olive oil was made in the old days, she is learning about Philistine, Canaanite, and other cultures as well as Jewish.  And when she sees contemporary art, it can be contextualized into the Islamic culture as well.  None of this takes away from the fact that the State of Israel is investing a great deal of money and effort into discovering this history, this heritage.  

Anyway, it’s a great museum, and although I have written about it before I want to emphasize its enormous improvement in recent years.  With only one reservation.  Our snack at the cafe was reviewed by Tamar as follows:  “It’s clear they don’t invest in desserts.”

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

“how old are you?”  the lady was asked, and she heard “how many wars have you been in?” and she began counting.  It’s not something that one gets used to – it’s one that seems to affect your life more and more.  This time I’m waiting for the next war.  And hoping I’ll be strong enough to get through it.  Each one leaves me less able to cope.  Each one leaves me less secure that the problems are solvable.  

Even though it seems we may have a chance to change the government, and to change the possibility of communication with our neighbors and within our society, even though it seems that all may be well, I am less able to actually participate in this change.

Most of my friends feel a similar helplessness. That even their vote doesn’t matter. My sister-in-law couldn’t get over the photographs of the children who were killed in Gaza this time around. “Why do they show us these pictures? Don’t we feel bad enough that we can’t do anything about it?” “Don’t we know that 1 in 4 of those children dreamt of being a Shahid?” someone else said, not to the point. “Didn’t we warn every family in every building we were going to bomb – didn’t we call them and give them an hour to get out? How could so many children have been killed?” We make accounts, try to figure out what happened, and wish we weren’t so hopeless. “What we have to worry about, ” someone else jumps in, “is keeping ourselves safe when their rockets target civilians, getting into shelters as soon as possible. That’s our only contribution possible in this war.”

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