The sea was angry today. We stepped in the water and I remembered that I’d heard on the news a warning that the currents were extremely strong. The little children were playing in the water up to their knees where we stood and me and Meira were afraid to go deeper. And Meira agreed not to go deeper. But when I turned to go back i discovered I had sunk into the sand, and I could not even turn around. Meira had to pull me out.
I must admit that even though the afternoon was otherwise perfect, the feeling of being stuck in the mud is basic to my sense of what is happening in this country, this world. The entire universe is sending wave after wave while we are just unable to move. We need someone strong like Meira to pull us out before the really big wave comes.
Watching the Iranian funeral I can’t get over the difference between our cultures. The officials of the government seem to be in a weeping contest – my sadness is the most profound. If it were here it would be an attempt to show the containment of the tears. I feel this deeply but I must contain my grief and carry on. I imagine that in England there would be stiff upper lips.
In any event, I imagine that someone in the U.S. government is watching this funeral and realizing that it has been programmed to turn into a hate-fest against the U.S. and Israel and whoops, someone may have misjudged the desire for peace, and maybe we’re going to get nuked soon.
The lesson every speaker gave in Lisa’s memorial was similar. If something is wrong, go fix it. Don’t wait for someone else to do it. Act like you are going to die tomorrow and get it done today. Because in her case, she could die tomorrow, and she did. Nothing ever stood in her way. There aren’t too many people like that in the world, and it is not surprising she sought out David Senesh, Hana Senesh’s nephew, for advice about how to go about helping the hundred of thousands of traumatized people after October 7. And he gave her advice that meant something – practical and daring. Go there, talk to people, listen to people, comfort them. We have so little comfort in these times. What she did was sorely needed
i have nothing against busses – even when they bounce around because the driver is going through every pothole in the city to make the scheduled stops. But today, in the heat, the voyage was too much.
it wasn’t helped by the fact that we were going somewhere we’d never gone, and were not sure of the bus route or the timing. So we wasted too much time in the sun walking and waiting. And we got to the memorial too early and had to use the time to catch our breaths. Coming home we missed the bus and got back too late – our gym teacher had been waiting and resting and was geared up to exercise the rest of our energy away.
it has been a while since I’ve been in Basel Square, and when I emerged from the underground parking garage I was a little confused. So much building, so much renewal. But I passed the old sign of the builders of Tel Aviv and immediately remembered how disturbed we were to discover the sign. When Ezi saw at least 20 years ago that his grandfather wasn’t in the list even though he built some very significant symbols of tel aviv, he called the city and the woman told him that for 30.000 shekel they’d add him.
But even though my destination was almost hidden among the all the building sites, my feet knew the way – Alkalay Cafe on Alkalay Street. A great place to meet and a great place to eat. Highly recommended.
years ago, when Sharon Kessler started talking about her fascination with typesetting and printing, I was mildly interested. Last month when she gave me a few books she had printed I became fascinated. The concept of focussing on the word, each word, each line, made me realize what is missing in my own poetry, the carelessness I find that characterizes my mind.
So today we drove up to Pardess Chana to film her in her studio where we found her ready to show us her printing machines, the process of hand setting the words and printing. It was fascinating – a world in a studio!
Alone in the Dawn is a book that taught me how to put my heart in writing. It’s a biography of Adelaide Crapsey and even though it is about a poet who never got to see her work in print, I learned about developing a life. And next month it will be available here:https://www.ugapress.org/9780820332130/alone-in-the-dawn/in kindle.
it’s also coming out in Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=alone+in+the+dawn&crid=AKRGBGZVU64K&sprefix=alone+in+the+dawn%2Caps%2C284&ref=nb_sb_noss_2
It’s very difficult to write about the self, particularly in these times. So much has happened to so many people in this country. So many tragedies, so much sadness on so many levels. I feel the same closed tragedies I experienced with refugees I met long ago – refugees who didn’t experience the brunt of the holocaust, but – that inability to express what has happened to them. It was like what Alona Frankel said about growing up in a closet – she didn’t know what was going on in the concentration camps, she only knew she had mice to play with and no one else for a few years.
And yet with us the threat doesn’t end – our very existence is always under threat.
So how can I complain about the fact that I don’t feel like cooking any more or my friends are getting old or something so banal?