Sometimes I have these conversations with my American friends and we seem to be precisely on the same page.  And then suddenly there comes a question that I have no idea whether we’re speaking the same language.  Today, for instance, I was asked a question I almost couldn’t find a voice to answer.  “But would you allow an Arab into your neighborhood?”  “Let’s see…” I began,  “In my building, there are three girls.  One of them irritated us a bit because she plays the drums too close to the wall.  We gave her a little carpet to put under her foot pedal and I think we’re all right. .. Across the street there three boys together.  Sometimes they pray on the balcony just a little too loud for Friday evenings.  Otherwise, we’re okay with the idea of the possibility of an Arab moving into our neighborhood.”  

Of course, I live next to the university, and almost fifty percent of the students are Arab.  In fact, today at the university I barely heard Hebrew. 

So to answer my friend – i don’t know what I would do without them.