What we all seem to be lacking is a measure of control.  The more a person knows about the world right now, the more confused and helpless that person feels.  If you don’t know about anything more than what is going on in your little village, maybe you can cope.  

Today I suddenly remembered the first year my family had television in Israel – 1972.  There was only one channel and it was black and white.  One afternoon I tuned on to an Arabic lesson.    I wrote a poem then:

MABROUK

Confined to the couch by a bad back, 

I watch Israel Educational TV with my son.  

There is an Arabic program on 

and we slowly learn that the man

at the final fitting for a suit

(“Mabrouk, Jamil!”), and the woman 

showing her new dress to her best friend   

(“Mabrouk, Azziza!”), are getting married. 

We watch the men come in to shave the groom, 

the women warm the bride with dance and song, 

the separate dinners with ululations

and more congratulations.  Then 

the two groups bring the couple to the square.  

And when Azziza and Jamil look at each other‑ ‑ 

slowly, shyly‑ ‑I begin to cry. 

I always cry at chasenes.

My own life was simpler, and I believed that the problems of the world could be solved through understanding – and maybe through television.  I think it’s in my book, Ignorant Armies.  It’s out of print, but maybe I’ll include it in my Selected if there’s a demand. Tell me if you like it.