Don’t ask me about what happened in Tel Aviv during Yom Kippur.  I was in bed.  I didn’t go to services in Dizengoff Center, and will only hear about the mess later.  

All I know is that my head was filled with Yom Kippur of 50 years ago – with the way I knew nothing of what was going on in the many fronts, and too much of what was happening with my neighbors. 

And my focus was there.  After I saw Moshe Dayan sweating on television as he was explaining what was happening, I focussed my attention on being the only driver in the neighborhood and made myself available for procuring food for everyone,  getting one kid to the emergency, another woman to maternity, etc. etc. You must have heard these stories before from me.  I was in the little picture.  The big pictures are coming out now – now that the ban has lifted. 

 But who knows – maybe I’m sick because of those stories about the army, about the heroism, the loss, the memories.  It was really hell for me, and I faked a brave face.  

So now that Yom Kippur has now concluded, and the future for the year is sealed, I should be fine by tomorrow.