The Mixing Bowl (Article# 108) 2/26/2009

Enough politics. Netanyahu is going to form the government, either a last minute bad deal with Kadima or a simple right wing government. No more talking about the elections this week.

I often get asked how I can live in Bet Shemesh, especially since I refer to the city as “Teaneck East” (the Rosh Yeshiva where I work lives in Efrat, which he calls “Occupied Scarsdale” so I am not alone in making this kind of reference). Don’t I wish that I lived in a more Israeli area, where my kids could integrate better and we don’t have to deal with the handicap of all the English? Actually, no.

A couple of weeks ago we hosted an Open House meeting for Mordechai’s school. Geared to parents of incoming first graders, the meeting was a chance for the parents to come meet the Principal and the Assistant Principal (Grades 1-1) and hear about the curriculum and activities.
One of the main things that stood out (at least to me) in the presentation was a sense of “one people - one nation” that we as parents in the school already knew prevailed. The school consists of 50% immigrant children from all over the world. Yet, when they are in school they do not segregate themselves into different cliques. They play as one, they learn as one and they get along very well.

Two years ago we had gone to a similar Open House to meet the same Principal and hear about the school (for Mordechai). I remember him telling us that during recess he occasionally hears students speaking English and that he asks them why they are talking Chinese – they are in Israel and they should speak Hebrew. At the time, we thought that his approach was quite rigid and not allow for the kids to express themselves comfortably in their free time. We were wrong.

I think that this approach forces the kids to interact as equals. Our kids have had incredibly successful integrations (for the most part) and I credit this to their quick adaptation to Hebrew. There are, however, still some interesting culture differences between people, as the Principal illustrated when we were talking about this specific topic.

He had gone on a field trip with the kids recently. As he sat on the bus, he noticed a couple of Ethiopian kids speaking ……whatever their native tongue is, and decided to let it pass. The bus was passing the airport and the kids were excitedly pointing out the planes, the buildings and all the fancy equipment on display. Each time they passed an industrial center, these boys would excitedly chatter and point to all the big buildings and technology.

Interestingly, the other kids did not react to any of this at all. They sat calmly in their seats talking, reading, playing, etc. However, a few minutes later the roles were reversed. Most of the kids were busy pointing out the windows and getting excited, while the Ethiopian kids were sitting calmly. What were the other kids getting excited about? They were passing a herd of donkeys.

Another thing that fascinates me is the “Israeli” label and how it is applied to different people/groups here. Most of us who live here are Israeli. I am and so is my family – we have citizenship cards to prove it. Yet, somehow we aren’t considered Israeli.

In fact, I know some Olim, who aren’t happy living in places like Bet Shemesh, Ranaana or Chashmonaim because of the high concentration of Anglos in those places. They feel that these places aren’t Israeli enough – whatever that means. They want a more “native” experience.

However, when you stop and consider it, there are almost no real Israelis. Everyone here is an immigrant at some point. Yes, there was a small Jewish community here in the 19th century, but most of us arrived here only within the last 100 years or so. Most of the people who are now called “Israeli” immigrated from Morroco or Iran or Iraq or any one of a dozen countries that made up Sephardic Judaism. The Ashkenazim are also immigrants, most of whom arrived within the last 75 years or so.

Yes, it is our land – our country as given to us by G-d. I am not trying to discuss those issues. My point is only that there is no such thing as a true “Israeli”ness that makes one person more Israeli than another. We are a conglomerate of the various people who make up our society (just like in most societies) and the trick is in understanding that we are all in this together and that this conglomerate is the definition of an “Israeli”.

So I don’t wish that I was in a less Anglo place per se. My kids are quite comfortable and are friends with people of various national backgrounds and I think this makes them better people for it. I (and my Anglo neighbors) bring a new unique approach to life that will add to attractiveness and success of my new country, just as I will be influenced (hopefully for the better) by the people who are currently here and those who will join us in the future.

The USA is called the “Melting Pot” by virtue of its successful blending of so many different ethnicities and backgrounds into a unique American identity. Since you already have that title, I guess you could call us the “Mixing Bowl”. We aren’t quite as large, nor do we do things on such a grand scale – but the idea is the same.

Coalitions (Article# 107) 2/19/2009

Wanting to vote in the first Israeli national elections for which I am a registered voter, I made sure to schedule my arrival from the USA for the morning of Election Day. As I mentioned last week, there are no absentee ballots in Israel for the average citizen. The only people who vote absentee are government workers, such as embassy employees or Jewish Agency representatives. Everyone else must be in Israel on Election Day in order to vote.

In Israel, Election Day is a national holiday. All schools close (well, probably not the chareidi schools) and many offices close as well. This is done for two reasons. One is to encourage people to vote. The other is because almost all the polling stations are in schools, and the kids would not be able to attend in any case. We had been told that Israeli Election Day would be a big party, with people having BBQ’s and other family/community activities. Any national day off would be treated this way because we have so few off days since Sunday is a workday.

Since the kids were off, Goldie brought the younger ones with her to pick me up at the airport and we went straight from the airport to the voting booth. The kids were very excited to be with us, and having experienced the voting process in the mayoral elections just a couple of months ago, they knew exactly how to vote.

It is important to remember that in Israel votes are cast for the political parties—not for the candidates themselves. The leader of each party is usually the person at the top of their Knesset candidate list. Knesset members are elected on a proportional basis, calculated from the popular vote results. Israeli law does not allow for a party to have less than three seats, so there is a mathematical formula to calculate how many seats each party actually gets.

Voters are divided into districts, with each district having its own ballot box. In Bet Shemesh the districts are divided geographically and often consist of a couple of blocks (our block alone has over 150 families in it). The polling place (as I said, usually a school) is divided up by districts as well, with three to five districts assigned a joint ballot box.

Upon entering the school, we went to the classroom assigned to our district and checked in. Each eligible voter is mailed a voting card to tell him where he should vote and what district he is in. Voters can vote without having the card in hand, but it is easier to show the card. Once a voter checks in, he is handed his ballot envelope and votes.

Unlike the municipal elections, the atmosphere (at least in Bet Shemesh) was pretty low key. The parties had their information/lobbying booths set up outside the polling places, but there was none of the frenetic “color war” type of politicking we had seen in November. With the exception of the immediate vicinity of the polling place, there wasn’t the blizzard of campaign literature littered throughout the streets, and to the relief of my little kids there was almost no disturbing the peace with “victory parades” or taxis running around with roof-mounted loudspeakers blaring voting instructions.

It was actually a pretty quiet day. Toward the evening we seized the opportunity to spend some family time together and went out for dinner (kosher food court at the mall). This turned out to be a pretty popular activity nationwide; the papers all carried stories the next day about the incredible amount of people who turned up at the malls on Election Day.

Since I don’t understand the TV news well enough yet, I got most of my election result information online. Exit and pre-election polls here are not so terrifically accurate, so it was hard to tell what the final results were going to be, but we had a pretty good idea what was happening by the time we went to bed.

I had been concerned about this type of result. The results clearly showed a Right leaning electorate and a repudiation of the “make peace at any cost—even if it is our end” policies of the Left. However, the Right’s splinter parties definitely weakened the Likud’s mandate, and it is not the largest faction in the Knesset. I still believe that Netanyahu will be the next prime minister, but his position is definitely weakened by having his party come in second place.

I think some of Kadima’s strength also came from a panicky anti-Lieberman crowd. I think that the growing strength of his party in the pre-election polls got many people who would have voted Likud thinking twice about supporting Likud (who would be the most ideal coalition partner for the Lieberman-led Yisrael Beiteinu party) and they cast their votes for Kadima—not in support of Kadima, but rather as a rejection of Yisrael Beiteinu and a diminishing of Likud’s mandate. They wanted Likud to win, but not by much.

So now we are going to be stuck with a government that has a chip on its shoulder, since the largest party will be in the opposition and will constantly be sniping at its heels. Alternatively, there could be a national unity government, which would mean that Netanyahu made a deal with the devil to get them in. Any such deal would probably be less than thrilling to those who voted the Right in, but would be a direct result of all the factionalized voting that ended up splitting the Right into a whole bunch of smaller parties instead of a unified large party.

Now that the elections are over the rest is up to the politicians, and we can go back to regular life. We have been having a major drought here. Even though it rained a couple of times this week, this has been the worst rain season since they started keeping records and follows two below average rain seasons as well. The economic crisis is catching up to us here (many employers have instituted across the board mandatory wage cuts of 10–20 percent, CPI is down and continues to fall and economic growth is expected to decline for the first time in years), and we are growing more and more concerned about the rising threats of our neighbors (specifically Iran).

On the personal front we are coming to realize that our oldest son is going to fly the coop in a matter of months (four) and it is startling. The kids’ report cards just came in (Yay!—at least for the most part). We have begun to prepare for Purim and Pesach and are looking forward to having the Zaidees and Bubbees with us on yom tov. Life continues...

Elections (Article# 106) 2/12/2009

By the time this edition of the paper hits the street, Goldie and I will have voted in our first national elections in Israel, and you will probably be reading the results elsewhere in this paper. We will have a fair idea of which direction our country is headed in. However, since I coordinated my recent trip to the U.S. to allow me to arrive home for Election Day (no absentee ballots for Israel), I was not able to write a post-election column before deadline and will instead share some of our thoughts going into the elections.

First, I will freely admit that I do not have even a basic understanding of the way our system works, nor do I comprehend all the various issues and platforms that Israelis use in order to form their voting decisions. I don’t understand how the different parties view things like health care, the economy, education, or even taxes (which are incredibly high here)—many of the major issues I would take into account when deciding how to vote when I lived in America. So I will concede that a candidate I support may indeed be in favor of an 80 percent income tax which he uses to line his pockets and minimally prop up what may be a fading infrastructure.

The issue that I relate to most closely is security. As you may well imagine, at this time this is a major concern of most of the country, as well. We are concerned about rockets, bombs, terrorists—you name it. There are those who want to make any deal they can in the hopes that it will appease the enemy; there are those who oppose any deal because they understand that the enemy will never honor its side; and there are those who espouse various positions in the middle.

Additionally, there are religious parties with their agendas, Arab parties with their agendas—all vying for a place at the table. Mix in the various splinters of each group (three chareidi parties, two Religious Zionist parties, etc.), and it makes for a confusing mess.

There are also many ways in which to twist the truth to make it appear more appealing to one view or another. For instance: We are all aware of the facts regarding the Gaza rockets, are we not? They have been falling on S’derot and the Negev for 8 years—a fact predicted by current Likud candidate Bibi Netanyahu at the time of the Gush Katif withdrawal. (He also predicted at that time that Hamas would take over the entire Gaza, creating “Hamasastine.”) Seemingly, a direct cause-and-effect relationship—right? Obviously, the Gush Katif pullout led to the rockets falling for eight years.

Not so fast. The Gush Katif pullout happened less than eight years ago. The truth is that there had been rockets for some time before the pullout, although the pullout led to a dramatic increase in the frequency of the rockets and the fact that we had to “invade” part of our own country in order to confront the terrorists.

While it is definitely clear that the Gush Katif pullout resulted in increased violence and an eventual war, the cause-and-effect relationship is not nearly so clear as the media and politicians would have us believe. I personally believe that the pullout was a disastrous move, and I further credit Bibi’s “Hamasastine” prediction as being 100 percent accurate, but some of the spin involved is misleading and deceitful.

Interestingly, the candidates themselves seem to be campaigning not only in support of their own platforms, but in their portrayals of their opponents they are also preying on the fears of the voters. Livni calls Barak and Netanyahu failed has-beens. Barak and Netanyahu call Livni totally unprepared and inexperienced (and I agree with them). Livni and Barak assert that Netanyahu’s eventual refusal to make a deal with the Arabs will weaken Israel’s relationship with the USA (and the world). Netantyahu makes the case that Barak has no vision, failing to see the Hamas and terrorist dangers and failing to finish the job in our most recent war. And so on and so forth.

In fact, many of these characterizations are both right and wrong for various reasons. Ideas and issues that were failures the first time around may be just the right solution to our current crisis. Sometimes new ideas are just the right thing needed to get things started. So it is hard for us to establish criteria for what it is we want to get done and apply those standards to choosing who should lead us in getting there (especially since many candidates here are elected saying one thing and end up supporting the exact opposite of their original election platforms).

So how do we decide whom to vote for to make our votes count?

My brother-in-law is furious at me for it, but I am not voting for one of the Religious Zionist parties. Quite frankly, I do not see that the Religious Zionist movement has much sway. We are not organized enough, we fight too much amongst ourselves and—nationally—we are overlooked as a group. Yes, the combined National Religious Zionist parties will get several seats, but for some reason they never get their agenda addressed the same way that Shas or Agudah seem to get.

I am also concerned about the possibility of (what is definitely going to be) a Likud-led government having to join into a coalition with Kadima because their mandate is not strong enough. By splitting off the vote to a dozen splinter parties, the Likud will either have to make separate (and very costly) special-interest deals with the minor parties in order to pull together a shaky coalition, or it will have to partner with the other major parties to form an ineffective unity government. Neither choice seems particularly attractive to me.

I am therefore going to cast my vote for Likud. No, I am not thrilled with their platform. No, I am not excited about the fact that I am voting for a non-religious party. No, I am not excited about the fact that Netanyahu has pledged to destroy existing “settlements” where Jews are simply trying to live their lives in Israel. No, I do not think that Netanyahu is more honorable than the rest of the crooks here—they will all sell us out to make a “historic” deal if the Americans pressure them strongly enough, no matter which party is in power.

I am voting for Likud because, at least for right now, they seem to be most closely aligned with “no giving away land” (notice how I did not say “no dismantling so-called settlements”). Other politicians have felt the same way in the past and changed their minds when in office or as part of the ruling party (see Arik Sharon and Ehud Olmert). There is no guarantee that Likud will not be turncoats and give away land. Yet, at least for the current time, I believe that Likud and Netanyahu have the best chance of delivering security and prosperity to Israel and Israelis, without giving away land to the Arabs.

I was talking about this with my sister, the one whose son is in the army. She and my brother-in-law have never been fans of Bibi Netanyahu and have historically chosen the parties looking to pursue peace at any cost. However, she has lately seen that this stance and outlook has not worked, and she seems to have lost faith in the entire process. She wants to support Bibi, but mentioned that her personal dislike for him prevented her from doing so (she equated him to a snake).

I told her that I too found fault with the major candidates and was concerned. However, I said, here is the thing that makes me feel a bit more comfortable with my choice. They are all snakes—so wouldn’t you rather have the snake that is on your side?

Many of you reading this will say that I am out of my mind and supporting people who will betray the nationalist movement, or perhaps that my vote will go to support past failures or even future failures. You may be right. But I am the one with the vote, which means that in this discussion - my opinion counts most.

Time Out for a Recap (Article# 105) 1/29/2009

Having gone through a lot of heady topics in recent weeks—such as the war, the chareidim, the war and the chareidim (just to name a few)—I thought I would seize the opportunity of my latest overseas trip to update you on how our family is doing individually. After all, there are only so many times I can kvetch about how absolutely freezing cold it is in the USA and wonder how you can possibly deal with it.

Chaim (almost 18), who is thankfully recuperating from his bike accident, is having a terrific shanah bet (second-year) experience at Yesodei HaTorah in Moshav Zanoach, a short 15-minute walk from our home. Chaim, who did not make aliyah, decided on his own to return to yeshiva for a second year and gain additional maturity in preparation for going to YU next year.

He has become an incredibly responsible and mature young man in Israel. When we first spoke about moving, he wanted nothing to do with the idea at all and still maintains that he will most likely settle down in the U.S. However, the positive experience he has had in making friends and being accepted by the youth of our neighborhood has drawn him in to the allure of Israel, and he has begun to show a love for the country that was lacking before our aliyah.

He has even recently mentioned that, depending on who he marries, he could actually see himself living in Israel. No matter what else, his newfound love for our country is one of the greatest by-products of our coming to Israel—no matter where he ends up.

Chaya (16) has blossomed tremendously. She was always a responsible and nurturing child, and we did not realize how much greater she could be until we moved to Israel and saw the true Chaya emerge. She has become a model student and is incredibly focused on achieving her bagrut diploma (read "Regents") next year. She has surprised us all with her remarkable adaptation to the country, and it is a credit to her friends that our oldest teenage daughter has really acclimated well.

She speaks Hebrew much better than she lets on, and we are amazed that this girl, who made aliyah at age 13, has such a wide range of friends—many of them speak no English at all. She always makes the extra effort to fit in (her cell-phone screen is set to Hebrew, whereas the rest of us use English), and her efforts have paid off.

She is a sought-after babysitter and can be relied upon to step up to the plate whenever the younger children need care. She actively helps parent the younger boys (sometimes a bit too much), and our friends constantly comment how capable and warm she is. Coming on aliyah has helped her develop independence and a strong sense of confidence in her abilities, two traits she did not have in America.

Aliza (13) has always been part of a large network of friends, and her circle of friends remains a priority for her in Israel. A typical teen, she spends hours with her friends, either in person, on the phone, or on the computer. As the middle kid, she has fended for herself for quite some time and is a very self-confident person.

She was the quickest of the kids to adjust to Hebrew in school, and we were amazed when she was accepted to a middle/high school that is known for academic excellence at the end of our (very tumultuous) first year in Israel. Only four girls in her class speak English, and Aliza is committed to being able to do anything she wants (she has even expressed interest in doing military service instead of national service at the end of high school). Although she is fluent in Hebrew, English is her preferred language.

Batya (almost 10) is the best Hebrew-speaker of the bunch. She also took to Hebrew rather quickly and is an outstanding student in all disciplines. She is equally comfortable reading books in Hebrew or English and, as I had forecast long before our aliyah, Batya (and the other kids, as well) laughs at our Hebrew skills, which are certainly below hers.

Batya has begun to show tremendous dependability and responsibility as well. With Goldie joining me in the yeshiva office three days each week, it is often Batya who is called upon to pick Moshe up from preschool when we are a few minutes late. She is popular with the native Israeli kids from our block and has adjusted very well.

Mordechai (almost 8) is Israeli. He is clearly more comfortable reading Hebrew than he is reading English and is simply "another one of the boys" in school. He speaks Hebrew quite well and it is his homework (second grade!) that gives us the most fits. All this after being the kid with the most difficult transition period (in his own words, hearing Hebrew made him want to "throw up"). In fact, we often switch to Hebrew when trying to explain something he doesn't understand, since he is able to process Hebrew more easily than English.

Mordechai is a talented athlete and is a popular kid in his class. He remembers very little of his life before Israel. Interestingly, although he is quite familiar with the names of the days and months in the Hebrew calendar, he has no idea what the names of the English months are or where they fall during the year.

Moshe (who turns 4 this week—while I am in America!) is of course our baby and is therefore the one child whom everyone in the house is happy to spoil. His Hebrew is flawless and he only recently began to consciously understand that there are actually two different languages being spoken. In an effort to keep him ahead of the curve in English-language skills, we have begun to teach him the ABC's, yet we understand that he will probably not have the best English language skills.

When we embarked on our aliyah, one of the most frequent comments we heard was that it was suicidal to contemplate making aliyah with older children. We were told story after story about disastrous adjustments and kids who never recovered, and it was something we were quite concerned about.

There is no question that things could have gone awry for our children in a myriad of ways. Yet somehow we managed to keep things together for them.

We approached the whole process with open minds and a focus on doing what would best help the kids grow and develop. We definitely acknowledge the fact that their successful acclimation to Israel was a heavenly gift to us, and that without such assistance, our kids could have certainly fared much worse.

We are living proof (so far, at least) that you can make aliyah and that if you work hard and have a certain amount of faith, this can work for you, too.

Alarming Alarms (Article# 104) 1/22/2009

We find ourselves listening to the radio a lot more lately. Not for the music or the talk; as we tread deeper and deeper into war we thirst for news and information, anything that lets us know our troops and our neighbors are safe. Each attack, each booby trap, even the sounds of gunfire entices a new sense of panic and worry. And we live miles from the warzone.

My sister called to let me know she had spoken to Yonatan at the front. As we spoke, she mentioned to me how noisy the phone call was. Apparently, there were a lot of staccato noises in the background, and it was only after she hung up the phone that she realized that what she was hearing was gunfire. It was only in the background because he was in the “safe zone” outside the border.

A tragedy is that we become immune to such things, especially when they do not happen to us. We express shock and dismay about the fact that there are cities, towns and communities that live under threat of fire many times each day – but it is near impossible to really relate to what this means. Yes, we see the pictures and read about the preschool children huddling in bomb shelters – but it doesn’t translate into something we can understand, even though we live here too.

On Wednesday afternoon, most of the Yeshiva staff was assembled (during the lunch break) in our office building. When I say building, I really mean a construction trailer directly in back of the Yeshiva’s building that was left behind by the contractors and now holds our administrative office. We were involved in various discussions and meetings when someone suddenly said, “HEY – is that an air raid siren?”

We all paused and sure enough, we could hear the warbling siren of multiple air raid sirens sounding over the city. We looked at each other dumbfounded. Could it be possible that Yerushalayim was under rocket attack? Within seconds we got a text message from the security services that alarms were sounding all over Israel (which was inaccurate – they only sounded in Yavneh, Yerushalayim, Bet Shemesh and Maale Adumim).

All over Israel? This really puzzled us. What kind of alert could this possibly be? One guy asked if maybe this was some kind of missile attack from Iran? Perhaps a major warhead of some type?

It turned out to be a false alarm. A rocket had indeed been fired, toward Yavne and since these other areas are on a straight line from Yavne, there was an error made and the alarm sounded. All this information was readily available within minutes.

The experience however, was quite harrowing. Chaim was on a tiyul to the North (more on that later) so he heard nothing. Chaya told us about girls running through her school panic struck and how she had helped secure the shelter blast windows. Aliza’s teacher did not believe the girls that there was a siren and refused to interrupt the lesson. Batya cried and Mordechai’s school seemed to be the most organized, with the teachers hurrying them along to their shelter.

All for a false alarm.

We talked about it at home that night and tried to get the kids to understand that the community of Sderot has lived like this FOR EIGHT YEARS! Several alerts a day. We wanted them to imagine what it was like to have this as a threat and why we were proud of our soldiers for going into Gaza and try to stop the rockets.

I am not sure if they got it. I am not sure if ANYONE not living in the rocket range can really get it.

As soon as you finish reading this paragraph, think about having to do the following…… Drop everything. In the following half minute, grab the kids (wake them up if they are sleeping) and run into a small reinforced room in your house. Sit there for no less than 5 minutes, all the while worrying about your family and wondering if the next thing you hear is the explosion of a rocket coming through your roof.

Now imaging having to do this several times a day. I know how I felt just the one time, which turned out to be a false alarm. I cannot fathom going through that several times daily. For 8 years.

We spent the rest of the week closely following the news. Visiting websites, listening to the radio, watching TV – anything that would connect us to what was happening. I was reminded of Israel the first time I visited (1982). In those days, when the news went on you could hear a pin drop – even on the bus. The bus drivers would raise the volume of the radio and everyone would listen to the latest update.

Nowadays you rarely see that. It is as if the news is not as crucial as it used to be.

The first war we faced here as Olim, the Second Lebanon War did not seem as tense as this one. The truth is that we were so new during that war and so excited to be here, that we may just not have had our fingers quite on the pulse of the nation yet. I think that the Lebanon War was also very vaguely conceived and carried out that our invincibility was shattered and no one wanted to really face that.

This time around we feel events much more strongly. We understand most of the news. And of course, we have our own family chayal, Yonatan – who was probably in Gaza more than he was out of it during the war. We notice when the news comes on, and we feel much more connected to reality.

I think the entire public is taking a different approach to this war as well. The Lebanon war started so quickly and (as we later found out) was so poorly managed that the message and goals of the country were not communicated to the populace. The lack of achievement also hurt. When you fail to achieve a single one of your stated goals, it is hard to feel positive about it.

I think the general public is much more supportive of this war. I don’t mean that they aren’t supportive of the troops. The soldiers are beloved here. The politicians are the problem.

We may not totally stop the rocket fire, but I doubt it can be considered a first option for the terrorists. We have definitely dealt them a beating that will take them a long time to recover from – and let us all hope that they never recover.

On Thursday, as I was getting ready to leave work, I got a call from Goldie. Chaim had called her that he was on the way to the hospital. His Yeshiva had been mountain biking on a tiyul near Teverya. Chaim lost control of his bike and had landed on its handle bars.

I had to run up to Haifa for the night, there was a concern that he may have needed surgery. Thankfully, he did not need surgery, did not break anything and after a night’s observation I was allowed to take him home. He has a lot of bruises and scratches but is otherwise OK.

Having already become an expert in the medical system here, especially in how to deal with doctors. Had it not been for my aggressiveness: i) we would still be waiting for an orthopedist to examine him (the squeaky wheel GOT the grease), ii) he wouldn’t have been given any pain medication, iii) they would have kept him through Sunday and iv) they wouldn’t have gotten paid.

As a (non-Israeli) student, Chaim’s status so confused the medical staff that they neglected to get billing information from us, even after I volunteered to submit it. Most students have private insurance; Chaim has Kupat Cholim (HMO coverage that is standard for Israelis). Most students’ parents are 6,000 miles away; Chaim’s father was at the emergency room in less than 2 hours. It took me 3 days to finally find someone willing to take our information and bill the insurance.

Dorothy Shapiro, An American Hero (Article# 103) 1/15/2009

One of my oldest and closest friends is Steve Kirshner, a fellow former Chicagoan currently living in Efrat. We speak regularly on the phone and get together too infrequently. Of course, as humans in the 21st century – we email. Jokes, pictures, stories, anything that catches our eye and seems like it would interest the other.

This week he sent me a terrific editorial cartoon that summed up in one picture a great sense of who we are and who our enemies our. On the left side is a terrorist dressed in civilian clothing, aiming his gun at an Israeli soldier while crouching to hide behind an Arab woman who is holding a child, using them as a shield. On the right side is the Israeli soldier in full uniform. He too is standing next to a woman who is holding a child, yet he is standing in front of them – shielding THEM from harm.

I have written several times about my nephew Yonatan, who is currently a soldier in a Golani brigade. Military service was something that he looked forward to; it is a rite of passage for the average Israeli male, whose grandfather, father, uncles and older brothers have all served in the military and whose grandmother, mother, aunts and older sisters may have done so as well (although some may have elected to serve in Sherut Leumi/National Service).

As he approached his enlistment, we all shared a mutual sense of pride in him along with our concern for his well being, should he see action. While on a live training mission at an army checkpoint, his team successfully identified and arrested a terrorist who was attempting to smuggle a bomb. Just days later, his commander was partially blinded by a female terrorist who threw acid in his face at the checkpoint. My sister (with our blessings) missed Goldie’s Seudat Hoda’a on Chol HaMoed Sukkot in order to attend his graduation from training. His leadership skills and commitment were quickly recognized with his recent selection for officer training, and he has been attending commander school over the past couple of months.

When the retaliatory air strikes began, his platoon was advised to prepare – but he assured my sister that they were only going to drill in preparation and he had no idea if and when they would be called into combat. Once the ground operation started, we knew there was a possibility that he would be called into combat, but we knew that he would not tell us until after the fact.

A week ago Monday he called my sister to tell her that he was in the neighborhood for a special driving lesson. It seems that he needed to learn how to drive a specific type of vehicle. My sister met him to say hello and he was very vague when she asked him where he was heading after his lesson.

Later that week he spoke to my brother in law and admitted that he had indeed seen action during the week. He added that his platoon had accomplished their task and he was being reassigned to his base to await further orders. This news certainly brought a measure of relief to my sister and brother in law.

She called us before Shabbat to share the news, which seemed a bit strange (not having been in the military I didn’t understand the logic of rotating a platoon back to base in the middle of a conflict) – but certainly welcome. At the end of the call, my sister said “I just hope he isn’t lying to me to keep me from worrying – even though I know he probably is”.

Little did my nephew know that one of his many cousins would see him at the front on Sunday and call one of my sister’s in laws to report that he had seen Yonatan and that he was fine. This was of course reported to my sister and he eventually admitted that he was seeing action in the Gaza region and he simply did not want his parents to go crazy with worry about his well being. He wouldn’t divulge any more information to her, possibly because he isn’t allowed to or perhaps because he didn’t want to cause any more alarm than was necessary. But he did tell her that he was OK, and she called me Monday morning to let me know.

Later that day I got an incredible follow up call from her.

I am sure that you have seen many requests for care packages for the Israeli soldiers. There are several organizations that are organizing these drives and delivering the packages. Be it simple supplies like deodorant and baby wipes, or treats like candies and baked goods, a care package makes a world of difference to a tired soldier.

As someone who goes out at least once each month to deliver pizza or other treats to the men and women serving at checkpoints and on military bases, I personally witness the soldiers joy and excitement in seeing us and being surprised with a small thank you. Yet, at least in most cases, once the package is packed and sent, one rarely hears what an impact getting the package made on the recipient. Not today.

My nephew’s platoon had care packages from America distributed to them that morning. Although most of the packages come unmarked, Yonatan’s package contained a letter along with the goodies. As the son of an American immigrant, my nephew speaks and reads English better than the average Israeli, so it was unbelievably appropriate that his package, randomly distributed, would contain this beautiful letter. (It is possible that several other packages also contained personal letters, but from my sister’s representation it does not appear that they did)

My sister paraphrased the letter for me, in between tears. Upon hearing her version, I immediately called my nephew, who was at the border resting with his platoon, to hear the letter in full. It reads:

Dear Soldier,

My daughter told me that I could help send a package to an Israeli soldier and I wanted to let you know how much I admire you and wish you well. I am almost 88 years old and had hoped that by now we would not have to be fighting for our homeland. I remember when Israel was founded and remember all the wars trying to annihilate Israel. I wish you could be home with your loved ones and not fighting. My prayers are with you and with Israel. Please be careful and be safe. May there be peace in my time.

Best wishes and Shalom,

Dorothy Shapiro
Hartsdale, NY

I cannot adequately describe how much strength and inspiration these words gave not just to my nephew, but to his buddies as well. They all got packages and just getting these gifts is uplifting, but the personal message really inspired them and touched these young men (all of whom have seen the horrors of battle in the past week) to the core.

I was glad to have the chance to speak with Yonatan and tell him how proud we are of him. I asked him how he was doing and he told me that he is OK and that he has seen a lot of things, rockets flying overhead and other things that he does not want to talk about; all I could think about was that he is still just 20.

As I said goodbye, I was able to tell him that we love him and that he should (as Dorothy so aptly put it) be careful and be safe. Knowing that he is busy and needs rest when he has the chance, I would not normally call him in the middle of a conflict. I am glad that I had a good excuse.

Later in the day my sister called to tell me how Yonatan and all of his buddies were all huddled around a cellphone, jointly composing a thank you note to be sent via email (she had enclosed an email address in the letter). He had called her to verify some spelling issues and asked me for the best way to translate a specific word. I asked her to send me a copy of his note, which reads:

Dear Dorothy,

I got your letter and package and wanted say thanks from me and all my platoon friends. My name is Yonatan. I'm 20 years old, and serve at Golani brigade. My current mission is guarding the Israel-Gaza border. Your letter really touched me, and even though things here are pretty tense - I decided I have to write you back right away.

It feels so good to know that our people, all over the world, care and stand behind us. I also wish for peace, but unfortunately our homeland is surrounded by enemies. The only answer we can provide is standing-up persistently and united in front of them and fight. Your letter gave me and my friends a lot of strength, and we wanted to let you know how much your support is important for us. I wish you won't have to see any more wars for our homeland.

With much gratitude and appreciation,

Yonatan

I salute you Dorothy Shapiro. You had no idea to whom your package and letter would go; you only wanted to express your very ardent support for our soldiers and our country. You made an impression upon not just one soldier, but his whole platoon and you also brought a large amount of pride to our family. We are quite grateful that you (and all those who took the time to send care packages to our military’s young men and women) could bring such joy to our nephew at a time when we are sure he and his buddies needed the very boost that you gave them. You will always be a hero in our hearts.

Another War? (Article# 102) 1/8/09

I wrote a whole bunch of introductions to this article. When it comes down to it, reality overwhelms anything I could have written. I had planned to write about our trip to Eilat (it was the first time for all of us except Goldie – who was in Eilat 20 years ago), but current events overwhelm my ability to focus on anything else.

When we originally made Aliyah, we were at an education seminar where one principal jokingly said that he defines the difference between an Oleh Chadash (new immigrant) and an Oleh Vatik (old – or experienced – immigrant) as their having lived through a war as citizens. No matter how recently you have arrived or how long you have been here, he argued, you aren’t really a part of the fabric of Israeli society until you have lived through a war. I guess this makes us real Sabras, since this is our second war in less than three years.

On our way back from Eilat we had a choice to make. The longer route (traveling via the Dead Sea Highway), added almost two hours to our trip, but totally avoided the rocket zone. The shorter route, which we had taken earlier in the week, took us past Beer Sheva and through Kiryat Gat, areas that were within the “danger zone” of rocket attacks.

After discussing the issue, we decided not to let ourselves be terrorized and chose to return the “normal” way home. We also felt that it would be important for our kids to get a small sense of what other children have to live through day after day. So we had a conversation with the kids about where we were going and how to act in case of a rocket alert and then headed home.

Batya was clearly spooked by the whole thing. She kept asking if we were in Beer Sheva yet and how long it would be until we got to Beer Sheva. Unfortunately, Batya is our most sensitive kid in these areas. When we talked about going on vacation, she made sure to pour over the details to make sure we weren’t sneaking to Sderot or “the North” (she is still spooked by the Lebanon war and thinks that the entire Northern region of Israel is still a warzone).

When we got to Beer Sheva, Batya put her head down and was terrified. As soon as the city was in the rearview mirror, I told Batya that we were past it and Mordechai chimed up “Good – now nobody is going to throw bombs on us.”

I know it seems foolhardy to put our family in the danger zone, but there is a point to be made, not to our enemy, but to ourselves. Yes, we have to take care of ourselves and avoid insane risks. But we also need to keep ourselves from allowing the terror to defeat us. We need to make personal statements that say, “I acknowledge the fear, but will not let it rule me.”

I fear that our military will end up having to withdraw before the job is done. Quite frankly, I cannot actually imagine how they will get the job done. How do you defeat an army that can vanish into the civilian population until you leave? We need to have certainty that we will be safe from rocket fire, but I have no clue how we can get it. Yet, and here is the real point, it seems that we often seem to end up at a place that is good for us, even if we didn’t think so in the first place.

There are difficult military and political maneuvers ahead of our country and I have no idea how they will turn out. But I do have faith that things are not left to chance and have seen too many things fall into perfect place (especially when they seemed to be at their worst) to think that there isn’t someone at the helm of the ship.

I worry more about individuals. My nephew. The dorm counselor from our Yeshiva who was called up for military reserve duty. The neighbor who had his reserve duty extended a few weeks. For these people there are no guarantees, and we seem to pay a heavy price, in blood, for the existence of our nation.

They show up for duty and are proud of their ability to serve our nation. They often are forbidden from sharing the details of what they are doing (the soldiers are having their cellphones taken away from them when they enter the warzone). My nephew had to lie to my sister (a mother always knows) about what he was doing (so far we aren’t aware if he has entered into Gaza). These are all real people and they have real families, families just like yours.

I have said it before, but it bears repeating. I DON’T CARE WHAT YOUR POLITICS ARE. You can believe in Israel or not. You can be non religious, modern orthodox, ultra orthodox or anywhere in between. It doesn’t make a difference when Jews are dying and need your support. We need you to daven for the safety of our soldiers, the same soldiers who protect you whenever you come to visit and ask nothing in return. Please remember this in shul this week when it comes time for the Mi Sheberach for the soldiers and have them all in your minds, hearts and prayers.

To end on a less somber note, I wanted to share two different “only in Israel” stories. In the first, Goldie and I were heading home after an engagement party. We were listening to the radio and the announcer said, “all you residents of the South, don’t you worry – stay tuned right here and we will tell you if there is an alert, no need to miss a minute of the music.” Goldie and I exchanged a look. It was a truly surreal moment, something we would never expect elsewhere.

Imagine our surprise when about a minute and a half later when the announcer came back on the air in the middle of a song to announce that the alert for Ashkelon had sounded and all residents of Ashkelon should immediately go to their shelters. The next time you listen to the radio, stop for a second and try to figure out what you would do if you needed to go to a shelter. Where you would go and how you would react if you were under this kind of constant threat.

We had a different tragedy in our Yeshiva this week. One of our Rabbeim lost his wife after a long illness. The family lives in the Yeshiva’s building and will be sitting shiva there all week. We have known that this was coming, but it still is not an easy thing to deal with.

As part of the arrangements, we had to notify the police about the shiva so that they would not give out parking tickets to those who came to console the mourners. Our administrator called them up and told the person who answered the phone what she needed. The response? “I am not the right person to talk to and I will transfer you to them. But I want to tell you first that I share your pain.”

That extra sentence is what makes Israel such a special place. The sense of community and belonging that we share. As Jews, we generally feel excluded from that feeling in other countries. Not here. Please daven that we get to keep being this way.

Mazal Tov to former 5 Towners and our current neighbors Mark and Yosefa Krauss on the engagement of their son Gavi. Mazal Tov also to Miriam Pinsky (who stayed with us for Shabbat a couple times when she was here for the year) on her engagement. And a very special Mazal Tov to our steady Friday morning double date couple, Tzippy and Dani Lieberman on the birth and Brit of their son Uziel.