Ait the airport I bought 5 Biden shirts.  There were hundreds for trump and only a few for biden, and they weren’t even displayed, so I decided that despite the fact that I was charged more than double what they should have cost, it was my last chance to act for Israel.  What do I mean? That Trump won’t support Israel?  I don’t know what Trump will do, and I do know that Biden has done everything possible for us.   History, we know, is understood backwards.

Otherwise, I haven’t don’t anything for Israel, except to say I’m not planning on deserting.  What about my grandsons – the one in the army, the others soon to go into the army.  I want them to make peace.  I want them to confront the ideas of peace and war and know what they’re living for.  I don’t want them to have to make symbolic gestures without understanding completely what they mean.  I want them to know exactly what they’re fighting for.  Not that I don’t believe the kids who have now packed up for summer aren’t serious.  They have a point about fighting the universities.  “Piled higher and deeper,” my friend from Metula used to say about PhDs.  And every academic I spoke to this time around had another irrelevant, narcissistic project in mind.   Except the chemistry professor who spoke about poetry.