Driving south, I kept getting reminded of the years I  used to teach there – 1972-6.  I had just arrived in Israel and thought I’d be teaching at the university in Tel Aviv, but my doctorate kept getting held up because my advisor was going crazy.  At last, he fell totally apart, left the university, disappeared, and my second reader, Jerald Ramsey, took over.  He saved me, but too late to get settled in Beer Sheva.  

Anyway, those were the years of war.  1973-4 my students were soldiers who were at the front for most of the semester and I would try to stay in touch with them by leaving study questions at their homes, but it didn’t help them much.  And I would drive or take the 3-hour bus ride to the university there, meeting people, watching the road.  Now the road is smooth, clear, boring.  So I read my telephone most of the way.  But when I began to look up I noticed that among the many big trucks a series carrying rockets partially covering them.  Rockets to the south.  

Bennett wasn’t kidding when he said we’re not going to allow those exploding balloons to continue.  And Yichi Sanwar isn’t kidding when he says they’re going to fight to the end.