When we heard how miserable the kids were in isolation after they’d made such elaborate sukkot plans with their class trips, we decided to try to alleviate their misery with a tepanyaki. It may seem completely ridiculous, but our hopelessness is in so many directions that anything is a diversion.
For example, friends write me constantly about how bad the Palestinian situation is, and even those who are physically endangering themselves to protect Palestinians and to work for an independent Palestine register their sense of the impossibility of their situation – unless of course, they manage to destroy us totally.
And we’ve been trying to get hold of a tepanyaki for months. Also unsuccessfully.
My poor grandchildren are in lockdown – I don’t know the details yet but the vacation they were planning for the holiday is now cancelled and the untrained puppy who was going to keep us grandparents occupied this week is suddenly staying home. Since we can’t go out anyway with all those holiday vacationers, it means I’ll be getting some work done….
There are a lot of children in this country – children under 12. They are just going back to school in between the holidays, and many of them are sent home soon after because someone in the class has been tested positive for corona. So we old people have to watch out for our grandchildren – stay far away. And even though we’re all vaccinated our numbers are up. And now our kids are getting sick. What an inhuman situation.
Fortunately, even though the hospitals here are severely overloaded and underfunded we have one group of people that take care of us – the Arab population. They may be 20% but they are 50% of the medical staff. The days of the Jewish doctor are over.
I do want to take a moment to thank all those people in Israel who have refused vaccinations, especially our friends. It’s true we’re lab rats, but you guys are also part of the experiment. You’re the control group, and through you, we see how effective the vaccines are. Thanks again.
Unfortunately, because of you, Ezi can’t go anywhere there are people, and because I might infect him, I don’t dare either. So not only are there no concerts, plays, movies, etc., but I’ve been buying all my clothes online, and you have no idea how outdated and out-of-size my wardrobe is.
there’s something about Kol Nidre and the shofar that closes the holiday that brings everyone to the synagogue – in this case the sephardic and the ashkenazi. Social distancing.
Most people know that in Israel Yom Kippur is a day for bicycles. It’s the only day cars don’t run, the only day the streets are empty, so people who don’t go to services, who can’t connect to religion, ride around with the kids. Or maybe they walk – walk to the beach, walk around the synagogue, walk to parks.
Some of our friends have wild dinners, but the friends we visit late in the evening pretty much fast, so we don’t get to celebrate. But always there is a feeling of contemplation, reflection.
in fact, before the days begins, tonight in a few minutes, I’m going to apologize to a friend or two.
Soon it will be too cold for me to swim in the sea, but even watching people at the beach is a marvelous treat. The music is hypnotizing – sometimes trance, sometimes Arabic, sometimes rock – always with a sense of another world. The sea has kept us sane all summer, and I hope we can keep it up into the winter. A beer, the faint smell of grass, fries, fish… what more could one wish for?