This has been such a conflicting sabbath. We got a chance to see so many people we love, and had only one rocket in the morning, and I was beginning to think the whole situation might be cooling down – and then the attacks on Dimona began.
I will never forget this Shabbat.
Eleven times in the shelter today. And I can think of 11 productive things I could have been doing instead.
My neighbor in the shelter says she takes the bus up north to pick up her grandkids for the weekend, and I am filled with envy. I have myself laid face down on too many places during a siren to go and pick up my grandkids. and take them home. I’m too scared. And I spend my day calculating the chances of getting bombed.
My grandkids living abroad invite me to move to their world, but somehow I remain certain that despite its faults and corruption, this place can become the dream I once believed it was.
eleven and counting – Read Post »
We were thinking of a nap – after all our day was very busy, contributing to charities (organizations that should be government determined – such as one providing helmets and body protection for volunteers who save people from exploded buildings), or experimental cancer research that just saved the life of a very good friend, sitting in the shelter, trying to remember if we slept at all between bomboardments, cooking for weak stomachs in such a way that there is no need to turn off the stove if you have to suddenly leave the apartment, doctors’ appointments that get changed again and again as cluster bombs alter our every movement….etc. etc.
My phone says i went up 9 floors today and it isn’t even afternoon.
I’m exhausted just writing this.
To admit there is no one doing the dusting, playing with grandchildren,making lockshen, etc. is very painful to me. (well, i still have a sense of humor) but nothing is really getting done around here..
at least you know how unproductive i’ve become
when you think about how big and ancient Iran is, and how powerful, you wonder why they’re screwing with me.
another hour, another barrage – 3.18.26 Read Post »
We’re promised a major rocket attack tonight. This is a problem because the shelter is very icy and I’ve got an attack of diverticulitis that not only is very painful but also makes me feel very cold. I would like to stay under the covers until it’s over but it’s dangerous. If I make it through I’ll let you know.
big night tonight – 3.17.26 Read Post »
buy the book – 3.17.26
my book will never be launched in the near future. but if you want to get it you can find it in any bookstore in Israel,
https://www.steimatzky.co.il/catalogsearch/result/?q=%D7%90%D7%9C%D7%A7%D7%9C%D7%A2%D7%99-
%D7%92%D7%95%D7%98
buy the book – 3.17.26 Read Post »
How many times were we in the shelter today? I ask this question occasionally when we’re sitting opposite our drowsy neighbors. No one is sure any more. They check their phones, and are reminded – 5,6 – and return to their zombie state. Not that they are not functioning, even enjoying themselves, even telling jokes. But no one can do anything that involves continuation.
Me, for instance, once a relatively responsible individual, keep missing online meetings, forgetting to call people back, lose emails… I hope I’m being forgiven for my blackouts, but I fear I will never have many of the friends I once had.
from the moment the warning sirens go off, our motions are automatic. If they are indeed warning signs, we have five whole minutes. We slip into shoes, grab our bags and separate to the two bathrooms in our flat, then meet at the door for the speedy descent 2 floors to the shelter.
On the way, I open the door to the building so passersby can join us, and totter the last 13 steps with increasing relief.
I don’t care about what I’ve forgotten. I’m focussed on escape.
And I’m grateful when I go back up the steps and I can try to go back to sleep, or have breakfast, or rewarm my lunch, or go back to my crossword. Nothing else is possible for me – not reading, not writing, not cleaning. I can do laundry, I can cook simple meals – especially those that can be cooked in a timed pot, like my rice cooker.
I could go on like this indefinitely, even with the insufficient sleep that is imposed on us by the rockets – last night at 11:30 and this morning around 4 for example.
But my life – like the lives of all Israelis, Lebanese, and Persians – have been reduced to minimal survival at best.
AT BEST
getting used to war -3.14.26 Read Post »
By necessity we have been very involved in our own lives. From the beginning of this war, for example the news on tv has extended its hours to cover most of the day, but it covers primarily local news – what rockets have fallen, what damage has been done, who has been injured, etc.
And for us, in a specific area, the concern is specific. Does it affect my area, my neighborhood, my group?
It isn’t surprising, then, that we don’t react with great shame at the criticism that we don’t care enough for the people of Gaza. We can’t. We’ve got enough problems of our own.
But the latest onslaught on the North by Hizballah and Iran has really aroused our sympathy. We know what it means to run for cover, and are appreciative of the early warning system that allows us to put on our shoes and coat before the race to the shelter, and know the north doesn’t have that. We also know there are many villages that have no protection at all. There is no way not to include all the population of the north in our prayers for safety and our consciousness.
I haven’t been in an Arab village since October, 2023, but I remember writing to a friend with a concrete factory in the north that they would do well to build shelters – and being answered with patience that it was an impossible request. So they will have to suffice with my prayers, I guess.
