“Would you be interested in meeting some friends at the port at Michmoret?” I ask Ezi. “Sure,” he says, “I’ve never seen it…. and my father built it.” This happens to me all the time — we go somewhere and Ezi uncovers some important fact about the family. And Michmoret is such a gorgeous place. This is where Ezi’s father, who was in a deep depression after his father died in 1948, rebuilt himself by donating the port. Somehow I felt his presence there.
I admit it. I didn’t demonstrate today. I wasn’t among the hundreds of thousands of people waving flags all over the country.
I got scared. Me and my metal hips – what are we going to do when some horse steps on us, or even when a fellow protester steps back and jostles us?
Yes, it’s getting really violent and I’m a bit too fragile to endanger myself.
I feel like I’m waving to you from the Titanic, but I don’t know how to stop the ship from sinking.
Maybe tomorrow when the enemy attack against us finally comes, we’ll come together, but I have a feeling that these guys are the same ones who killed themselves on Massada.
We should be out on the streets already, but because I’ve been exhibiting some of the symptoms that brought our prime minister to the hospital the other day, the doctor has recommended that I spend my time taking my meds and keeping away from the hospital. Even though the weather is becoming bearable. So I won’t be wearing my grandmother needs democracy shirt until the sun goes down.
And it isn’t really that far away to walk to join in. I may not be able to keep away.
Where else could we escape to on the day before the enormous ineffective protests shut down the country? A bright beautiful Sufi college in Ba’aka Al Gharbia. I highly recommend it for its cheerful atmosphere and positive attitude.
Then we had a wonderful lunch with the Muassi family and managed to avoid complaining too much about our situation.
So we’re ready for tomorrow.
I would really like to help them set up their intensive Arabic course for Israeli women.
Big Opening night at the Cameri Theater. To a full house of celebrities, the play “What’s Happened to Us” brought continuous laughter. The mayor of Tel Aviv, the central comedians in the country, and I even wound up sitting next to my dermatologist (also the doctor of the prime minister’s wife) who explained to me that this was the most prestigious place-to-be in the country tonight.
The play was concered with family, sexuality, and the importance of mothers. There was nothing about politics, global warming, terrorism, or the brain drain that we’re experiencing because in part of the politics.
The whole thing is incredibly suspicious. First they announced that Bibi was hospitalized for a heart attack, then they said it was a bit of sunstroke, then they implanted a monitor, And there is no designated substitute prime minister. Thank goodness, someone said, if he had appointed Yariv Levin to be his substitute the whole country would have had a heart attack.
And me too – I’ve been down that road of a suspected heart attack, and I know the protocol. That’s not sunstroke.
How awful when we can’t even trust our prime minister to tell the truth on anything.