I used to worry that our children don’t even want to learn about the history of why they are here. but when we mentioned the Palmach in dinner conversation we started to get speeches from the younger children about the organizations around World War one who tried to help the British against the Turks. Where did they learn it? Locked up on home with the internet and television.

a few months ago when Ezi and I were at Elma hotel in Zichron Yakov, we thought it so elegant and faultless as an escape from the daily problems that we brought the whole family there. The added safety measure was that for families there are these cottages separated from the main house, so the children, who had all been tested, would not really have much contact with the other visitors. And the food was as wonderful as I remembered. And the magical pool remained relatively empty, except for our kids.

The only problem for me was that I couldn’t connect to the wifi, except in public places, where I was happy to choose children over wifi. .and no one wants to hear a grandmother talk about grandchildren anyway, especially in this venue.

One of the things I was really looking forward to was taking the kids of the Aronson house. The history of the Aronson family is truly an amazing one – with many dramatic aspects. There was even an article in recent years with some of the details in Jewish week. And the boys knew so much of the background. But our guide, who we had booked in advance, turned out to be able to make the most fascinating story of the Aronson family into a speed course for remedial high school. It was like she took living people and buried them in rushed, boring sentences.

I guess history was just one other way we escaped this week from facing a world full of troubles. We didn’t confront the innovation, the heroism, the devotion to ideals that we so need to deal with the world of today. It was just another way to escape. I was so confused by the trivialization of the amazing people whose house we were visiting that I didn’t even have words to tell my children. These are people who tried to change their world, and to some degree succeeded. Even the tree that grew from the dates in Avshalom Feinberg pockets as he lay murdered in the desert or the poem he wrote to Rivka Aronson, “A Thousand Kisses,” show that the world can be altered even in failure. Just DO whatever you can.

Me, I’m going to start with this book about Sara Aaronson by George Wallace, The Woman who Fought and Empire.

He didn’t die of Corona, although I’m sure the situation of Corona didn’t help his mood and will to live. But although I share the terrible grief with the family, it is the funeral I want to describe. At least a hundred people paid their respects despite the hard sun beating down on us, and the eulogies ranged from the intimate to the political. The prayers and burial staff, however, were so obviously mechanical that it was clear they had been performing the same rituals all day, and as soon as the ground covered his body, they raced back to begin prayers for the next funeral. I could hear them as I was leaving…

It has come down to this. I’m finding myself obsessing about the most trivial thing possible. Not the rockets from Gaza, not Iran, not the raging fires, not even Corona, but the fungus on a tiny part of my fingernail. last month, when it first appeared, the health clinic said to send a photograph to the skin clinic. They diagnosed and prescribed something. Today I visited a private dermatologist with Ezi and incidentally showed him my finger – he prescribed a complex treatment. “Don’t know if it will help, but it will keep you busy.” So I took the prescription to the pharmacy. In a thick Palestinian accent, he said, “What health clinic are you in?” “It’s a private prescription.” “So what?” he answered, “Let’s let the clinic pay for it.” He brought out the big box. “Now, let’s look at the instructions.”

I am not sure if he thought I was a little bit stupid, or he was trying to screw the system, or he was just being nice.

A few years ago we saw a fire in the Jerusalem hills near the hospital. Frightening and overwhelming. And it was nothing compared to the fire raging now, where they about to evacuate Hadassah hospital. They’ve got helicopters out to evacuate people from villages, and they’re calling for international help.

And this fire was apparently man-made.

It isn’t enough that we’ve got pestilence and rockets, we’ve got self-destruction.

It doesn’t really matter to me who set the fire. what matters is the willingness to destroy miles of forests and endanger lives.

i

Almost everyone wants to go back to normality. It seems even the Taliban don’t want to disturb too much as they take over all of Afghanistan – as they put the women back in their places and reinstitute extreme religion.

Back here in Israel, we’re ignoring the plague as much as we can. Masks maybe, but no quarantine as much as possible. Schools will probably open in two weeks and then we’ll really be in trouble, but we’re trying to ignore this, The fact that Corona appears to be less fatal than before, that we have found all kinds of ameliorating treatments may be part of the reasons for our actions, but financial considerations are clearly involved as well. And we really want to do everything possible to feel normal. Even if it is all self-deception.

Why have I not spoken to many of my friends in the past year? Not only because nothing much happens to you that you can communicate, but also that talking to friends winds up being commiseration. And the commiseration turns out to be such mutual complaining that I wind up feeling sorry for myself. And there is no justification for self-pity when there are so many more serious problems to solve in the world. Let’s try to solve those problems instead of our own.

But what can we do? How can we help the people of Haiti or Turkey who need our help?

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Tuberculosis was almost totally stamped out before people started refusing to vaccinate their children. Now it seems that we’re going to have Corona with us for a long while because some people don’t believe in the vaccine. Some of them are in my family. There’s nothing to discuss because both sides are firm in their beliefs. One because of the body’s gradual natural resistance to disease and one because black people were experimented upon in the Tuskegee studies of 1932. I can’t really argue with the latter – it makes sense to be wary of a government that used a race for experimentation. (It also makes sense that everyone is getting the same vaccine so why not you) But the former one really scares me. There are too many things a human body does not learn to fight against. I keep thinking about Adelaide Crapsey, who was infected with TB at the beginning of the twentieth century. The cover of my book on her had the following poem

and if we want to go natural, we have to accept the fact that death is nature’s way of slowing us down.