A few things directed my gut to tell me to stay home last night. One was Ezi’s sleeping for hours and hours all afternoon and evening, and one was my own bloodpressure. And I had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be a fun and games evening that would make me feel hopeful. So I happily joined my poetry workshop instead. And then there was a terrorist shooting near where my son hangs out and I wasn’t sure he wasn’t there. And the demonstration – although crowded – was reserved and quiet in memory of the man who had been killed. And when I finally got to sleep I dreamt that had I gone I would have been maced like my daughter had been a few weeks ago.
It was all about my gut, not the politics, which only change in intensity from week to week.
Thinking that our kids deserve a day off from our grandchildren, we invited some of them over for the sabbath. Then we invited the others for lunch. Then I noticed Ezi nodding off. How can we go to a demonstration when we’ve only had four hours of sleep? One thing I’m sure of – I need a break. A sabbath.
this is Shimon Peres’ granddaughter. Her Hebrew talk is followed by an English one. It scares me but maybe we should go low when they go low. Anyway, it’s here:
The point is it is very hard to fight clean when the opponent fights dirty. Peres always fought clean, even though there were all kinds of stories about him. When I think of some of the dirty tricks that have been played by the opposition, it seems that Bibi has not only been the master, but he has also surrounded himself with dirty players. And we have been so gentle…
We spent the morning giving things away – clothes to wizo, glasses to an optician who distributes to disabled, tableware to a public nursery, etc. etc. The afternoon went on IAWE organization. And all that time Ezi was busy fixing things in the house. I don’t thing there has ever been a repairman in my house, and now that Ezi is on the housing committee everything in the building gets fixed for free. The pleasure he gets in helping others and helping himself is contagious.
And then I remembered how we used to make packages for Israel when I was growing up in the US – clothes, canned food, shoes, bags. Sometimes new, sometimes old. Our relatives depended on those packages.
And we felt that we were contributing something important to the world.
Last night a friend in Budapest told me that her heart is broken because the Kazinczy Street Synagogue had been taken away from the small local community. Since that synagogue was built by Ezi’s grandfather, and we admired it years ago when we visited, I wanted to find out more.
I put my enitre focus on it. It was supposed to come out yesterday, but something went wrong and the issue isn’t up. That just shows you – you should never put your faith in one thing.
So now I have another task to concentrate on – the Oct 9th evening for me at the Writers’ House on Kaplan Street. It will be called “Passion for Life” and feature a number of languages and I hope a number of people I love.
This is after I failed miserably to arrange a trip for my bar mitzvah grandchildren. Couldn’t get it together, couldn’t work out the dates, flights, sites, etc. I must have spent hours every day planning things that either got shot down or ignored and now I’ve got to find a way to reedeem the plan.
the sea was angry in the evening. at least the lifeguard was. He kept warning, “Hey Honey, get back into the safe zone. It’s wild out there.” or “Come back to me, Baby. You’re going too far!” Me and my friend were out in the sheltered part so it was like sea bathing rather than swimming. Still, the sea washed out momentarily the violence and evil on the land, and we could talk about love and friendship and good things.
Then we went back to shore, and cherished the spirit of escape for a few minutes. The 2nd is our Jewish Valentine’s Day.