israeli politics

The numbers are going down, the chances of a medication that will render Ezi immune are going up, and his shingles are disappearing

. This makes me more able to cope with the crises in the IAWE, in my family and my health. I will finally be able to look at the m

aterial for my talk next week about my book (to which you’re all invited, by the way)

zoom in on February 7 here

But the subject for today is ‘found’ – and today in the middle of an attempt to make peace in a feud, one of the guys asked, “But how can I speak to him? He’s totally mad!” And I started to tell a story. When my father was in the ward for brain-damaged patients, my mother spent every day with him. One of the first times I went to visit him,when I got out of the elevator to his floor, I was confronted by a man in his underwear who began screaming at me in Yiddish, “You took my trousers! Where did you put them? Give me back my trousers?” My stuttering attempts to assure him that I had no idea what he was talking about did no good, only angered him more. Then my mother appeared suddenly, turned him away from me, and said, “A platoon of soldiers came and took them away.” This – he accepted, and he disappeared back into his room.” When someone is mad, I added, go with it. This, I’ve decided, is the only way to go.

january 31, 2022 – found Read Post »

israeli politics

I thought it was only a local phenomenon – people going crazy. After all, where else in the world but Tel Aviv does a pedestrian fear for his life from the delivery boys on their scooters? Where else in the world do people scream at each other for almost no reason? In what other country do the writers fight with each other for no reason? Everyone in this country is crazy.

That was the kind of day I had.

And then I invited some cousins to zoom with me from the other side of the world – and I realized that they’re crazy now too. And so am I.

And my cousin tried to point out the positive aspects of our situation – like I do off and on. But seeing him in me made me realize how crazy I really am.

And I belong to this world that is falling apart because of our own foolishness

january 30, 2022 – crazy Read Post »

israeli politics

What we all seem to be lacking is a measure of control. The more a person knows about the world right now, the more confused and helpless that person feels. If you don’t know about anything more than what is going on in your little village, maybe you can cope.

Today I suddenly remembered the first year my family had television in Israel – 1972. There was only one channel and it was black and white. One afternoon I tuned on to an Arabic lesson. I wrote a poem then:

MABROUK

Confined to the couch by a bad back,

I watch Israel Educational TV with my son.

There is an Arabic program on

and we slowly learn that the man

at the final fitting for a suit

(“Mabrouk, Jamil!”), and the woman

showing her new dress to her best friend

(“Mabrouk, Azziza!”), are getting married.

We watch the men come in to shave the groom,

the women warm the bride with dance and song,

the separate dinners with ululations

and more congratulations. Then

the two groups bring the couple to the square.

And when Azziza and Jamil look at each other‑ ‑

slowly, shyly‑ ‑I begin to cry.

I always cry at chasenes.

My own life was simpler, and I believed that the problems of the world could be solved through understanding – and maybe through television. I think it’s in my book, Ignorant Armies. It’s out of print, but maybe I’ll include it in my Selected if there’s a demand. Tell me if you like it.

January 29, 2022 – control Read Post »

israeli politics

We go to Tel Aviv to bring food to the infected kids and take out their dog. I only noticed that Ezi wasn’t wearing his mask when I downloaded the picture. Now I’m worried.

But the picture is a perfect documentation of the rambunctious dog and Ezi’s sense of peace – just across the street from where he grew up.

january 28, 2022 – ezi in the city Read Post »

israeli politics

Days after we watched “Don’t Look Up” we keep finding it coming back into our conversation. Such an obvious, superficial film, and yet so much a part of our lives. Watching the news – a few minutes of Biden, a few minutes of Bennet, a few minutes of Putin, a second or two of Bezos – and everything blends together with the film. The writing is all over the wall, so dense I can barely see the wall itself.

I’m tempted to ignore the news, and cultivate my own garden, but I don’t think it can really grow if I ignore the society and the world in which I live.

january 28, 2022 – looking up Read Post »

israeli politics

Stutthof

My grandmother was a blinder.*

Even with her glasses

she had to hold the newspaper close to her face

before the candle in the middle of the table.

I wonder if she understood

that the injection seeping into her

at the infirmary in the Camp

was poison or if she thought

she’d be cured and sent back

with her daughters to work

and someday go back to her kitchen

to read the newspaper.

*near-sighted actually

january 27, 2022 – international Read Post »

israeli politics

So the title isn’t really accurate. But last night, as I tossed and turned in my bed, kept awake not only by the lightning and heavy rain but also by the fear that I wouldn’t wake up in time to get to the hospital in time for my echocardiogram at 7, I kept thinking about my granddaughter – who is dying to see the snow falling up north and in Jerusalem. Her father has corona and Ezi has shingles and by the time I get through with the test and the dentist after, the snow will be gone. By 6:30 I was ready to leave and the phone rang. The secretary wanted to tell me that the doctor tested positive and my appointment was canceled. Unfortunately, I turn my phone off until 7.

And so the day continued. I was bundled up as I have never been before in Israel – and the sun came out. At home, Ezi reset the new computer and it worked fine, so he canceled the technician who was on his way over to change the motherboard. Then the computer broke down again. A new television was delivered and finally installed, but doesn’t work with our internet system. The new broken vacuum cleaner, we are told, will not be fixed under warranty.

But all these incidents I put down to Kappara, that is the small troubles that take the place of the big ones. After all, today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day, and when I turn my mind to that from the pain of my granddaughter to thoughts of whether my grandmother knew that she was being injected with poison in the health clinic of Stutthopf, I pray that our lives will be filled with these little contretemps, and we will be able to get through them with a smile.

And that is why my favorite line in literature remains Nabokov’s praise of the mathematician Lobochevsky who discovered that “If parallel

lines do not meet it is not because meet they cannot but because they
have other things to do.”

january 27, 2022 – sturm und drang Read Post »

israeli politics

As the weather becomes snowy in this country, I recall

my mother’s chicken soup: here it is: real chicken soup.

And here is the poem:

The Market

I used to go with my mother to pick chickens for slaughter

I don’t know how she chose them or brought them to the shoichet.

But there they’d be when we got to the shed by the cages,

Hanging from pegs on the ceiling and waiting to bleed dry.

I’d always focus on the plucker’s quick fingers,

The feathers flying like weightless snow

And his fiery torch burning the bumpy taupe skin

That with no effort suddenly resembled my own.

Then at home they’d be dissembled,

The organs, unborn eggs, all pieces examined.

Little spleen, fingers of fat, dear yellow feet,

Laid out on the kashering board,

aslant against the wall of the sink.

Friday evening we’d meet again,

In each of the courses:

Broiled liver ground together with rendered fat,

Blurred as separate beings and members,

Helping me to forget yesterday’s origins.

Next the soup, the essence of sacrifice refined

With orbs of yolk in a promise to come.

But it was the wings that make it all special for me,

Put in my plate with the survivor’s reminder

to fly from the market to the depth of my poems.

january 26, 2022 – snow and chicken soup Read Post »