There is so much to do in Tel Aviv. This site just tells you just about tonight. I would have loved to go to an evening with Maya Bejerano and her poetry tonight, but I’ve been working too hard on the proofs of my Yiddish book and I’m not sure whether I’ll finish in time. I can’t bear the thought of dragging it on much longer.

And I have good news – Ezi was vaccinated this morning. The hospital sent him a message last night to come, and he came. Now we have to see whether he’s immune or not. It’s like a new dawn.

In a way I’m relieved – if there are rules everyone has to follow we are all safer, even those with no antibodies. I don’t know how anyone will manage with masks in this intense heat.

And it looks like Ezi will be able to get a booster tomorrow. He was sent an appointment after weeks of chasing the medical institution, but the actual summons had nothing to do with his efforts. It was in the system. Pretty cool. He has been taken care of by the system for well over 13 years, and when I think of it, he has cost the ‘system’ well over half a million shekel. We should all be so lucky in the world.

But it has exhausted me – this staying on top of things. May we have a little easier time in the future.

when I was asked to translate a few poems by Shaul Tschernichovsky I knew it would be difficult. His language is so antique and he wrestles with words to fit them into rhymes. And the subjects are often archaic. I asked Ezi if he would work with me because I have so many other projects I would have to postpone. He agreed, but as soon as the new variant of corona appeared, he had to concentrate on refiguring his behavior in the face of his lack of immunity. So I wound up alone with Shaul.

And I found myself incredibly involved – especially in the poem, “I Believe.” I kept thinking I was talking with my father, who lived by the creed of the song. I kept remembering the summer courses my mother would drag me to when she was trying to get her certificate for teaching Hebrew. The students would sit around the dinner table and sing the song in Hebrew with tears in their eyes. Like never before I put my heart into translating, and every time I thought it was ready to submit I would reread it and change a few words. I’m not going to look over that poem anymore – I’m way behind on everything.

the heatwaves this year have confused all of us. These pomegranates next door are not due to ripen until the new year in September. Never mind – I’ll enjoy them anyway.