Our Time

S P A M

2020-12-31T11:26:00.000-05:00

Awestruck

2011-06-27T08:40:00.002-04:00

We don't make it easy on our kids. We say we are, and we mean to, but we don't. We do what we feel is best, and then we try to protect our kids from the fallout that occurs, but we definitely don't make it easy.

Last night, one of those kids graduated from elementary school. Our middlest, who we always thought would have the easiest adjustment to life in Israel, actually had the hardest time getting used to this place.

When we first arrived he was stymied by the language, and always seemed to be a step behind socially. He struggled in school, and though he has read thousands of pages in English books, he has rarely picked up a hebrew book for pleasure, and then, always under duress.

But he persevered. He watched TV in hebrew, and paid attention in class, and get fighting to gain proficiency in hebrew and in school. We worked with his teachers, deciding which classes were worth his effort, and which classes he didn't need to pay attention to. And after two years of ignoring history, geography, and the other lesser subjects, he was ready to jump all the way in.

His hebrew is flawless, his grades at the top of his class. He served on the student council, ran for an elected position and won, edited the school paper and his year book and sang in the school choir. Last night, at graduation, he sang and played guitar, performed in the class production, and proudly walked across the stage to get his diploma.

True, he isn't the most popular kid in his class, but he has a few close friends, both English and Hebrew speakers. He enjoys nature and origami and playing guitar and helping others and, of course, sitting quietly in a corner in the house and reading books.

He was the one who always made me wonder if we made the wrong decision to move. If he had stayed in Detroit, with his friends from birth, in an English environment, who knows how his second, third and fourth grades would have turned out.

But we didn't. And we didn't make it easy on him.

So he did it all anyway.

Disappointment

2011-06-12T10:16:00.003-04:00

Three years ago, sitting in a coaches meeting, I told the other coaches if I could keep the kids together, my team would win the league championship in 2011.

Well, 2011 came, and the kids were still somewhat together. We had pitching, hitting, and most days, a decent defense.

We played hard through all 12 games of the season, finishing with an 8-3-1 record, good for fourth place and a shot at the championship.

Our first test came against our rivals, the Piranhas, who play in our city. This was the third time we were meeting. Early in the season we fought to a 3-3 tie, and in the final game of the regular season, one bad inning doomed us to a 6-2 loss.

No big deal I told the kids, before the game. We proved that we could play with the Piranhas, and had nothing to fear. Nothing, I would learn, except for our defense. And lack of hitting. And poor baserunning.

In a game where everything that could go wrong did, we began the game with a leadoff double, and stranded him at third. It went downhill from there. Our normally reliable defense fell apart, with our first baseman and second baseman misplaying key ground balls, and our first baseman and short stop dropping pop ups. Before we new it, the game was over, and we were heading to the third place game, losing 7-1.

There were some highlights. But none that overshadowed the loss, and not worth mentioning here. In the end, we lost our chance, and with it, the bold prediction I made in the 2008 preseason meeting was flushed away.

Air Time 81

2011-06-05T18:01:00.001-04:00

Better than calf roping, the torah dance and playoffs, plus disappointment at the spelling bee, bad purim spiel ideas and more. Your reading Air Time, so stick around.

Chalk this one up to tasteless purim humor. We never stop pitching ideas at the shul. I’ve tried bouncing this one around, and keep getting it back in my face. We have many more members than seats at the BKA, and many members will need to sit downstairs in the second minyan over the high holidays. But who will sit downstairs. And who will make that decision.

So here’s the pitch. We have a table at the front of the shul. Above the table is a banner saying prayer sets you free. Members approach the table, and are sent to the right or left. Now, I know holocaust jokes are taboo, but this could be really funny, especially with the right people manning the table and sending people to the left or right.

But no, I was told. Rejected. At least until all survivors have died. And then, we can reconsider.

Watching the rodeo tonight with Veev while we waited for her cake to bake. But when the announcer said there was bareback bull riding and barrel racing, she said should wasn’t going to watch any two bit rodeo without calf roping.

I wrote it on facebook and I’ll say it again here. If you’re a bull rider, and you want to look retarded, put on a hockey helmut before you ride that bull. You’ll fool the world into thinking you can’t feed yourself and spend most of the day drooling.

We spent tonight at the shul. Five new torahs, a new building, and a video with me saying it’s a beautiful makom tfilla but its more than that. Nailed the line. Even the Hebrew part. Might even be Oscarworthy. And the we grabbed some food. And then we went to a private afterparty. And had more food.

Neccessary. If this was spelled correctly my middlest might still be alive in the spelling bee. But unfortunately for him, there’s only one C in it. So he was out, and just like that, his elementary school spelling bee eligibility is all over. Nice while it lasted.

My baseball team made the playoffs, winning a hard fought 9-3 battle against one of our rivals. Next up, a battle for Modiin, and then, three days later, playoffs start with the same Modiin rivalry. I think its going to be a heck of a couple of games.
That’s it for now, You’ve been reading Air Time

Eternal Capital

2011-05-31T16:06:00.003-04:00

The flags. They are the first thing I notice as I look toward the stage at the bottom of the Amphitheater. White and blue, in the seats, and on the dance area. I feel drawn to the flags, almost mesmerized. I feel connected to these flags, in a way I could never connect to the red white and blue. This is my land, I think. My country.

The music starts. We are celebrating Yom Yerushalayim , the day Jerusalem was reunified, with a concert. It has been 44 years since the unification of Jerusalem. It was paid for with the blood of Israeli soldiers, taking it back from Jordan, who grabbed control of the old city in 1948.

I am at the concert with my middlest. He has a smooth, pure voice, and has performed at Yom Yerushalayim, but tonight we are celebrants, not performers. I wonder what he thinks as we watch the concert. Is he thinking about future concerts that he will sing in, or watching the band leader to see how he runs his show? I will ask my middlest later, I tell myself, but for now we'll just enjoy the concert.

"אם אשכחך יךושלים" he sings. If I forget you, Jerusalem, "תשכך ימינית" - cut off my right arm. The song seems more powerful this year. With so much talk about a Palestinian country in the '67 borders, about dividing Jerusalem, this song sends us a reminder.

Netanyahu had it right last week in Congress. We do not occupy Jerusalem, just as we don't occupy Judea and Samaria. Its our country, our eternal capital. And we won't give it up. It is worth fighting for, worth international condemnation, worth the price of blood that was extracted from us in 1967, and in every attack including the bombing at the bus stop a few weeks ago.

The concert continues, and my middlest leaves our seats and walks to the amphitheater floor. A few minutes later, he has a flag in his hand. All around him people are dancing, but he is only watching.

What does he see, I wonder. The pose is familiar. It reminds me of me standing at third base, coaching my team. Arms crossed, legs apart. If only I was 25 years younger, 200 pounds lighter, and looked like Veev's family, we would be identical.

The concert ends and we walk back to the car. I want to ask him what he sees when he watches the concert, but I decide not to ask right now. I reflect on what I have seen. The flags, the connection to the land, and the detemination to continue to fight for Jerusalem as our eternal capital.

Line Out

2009-09-16T15:33:00.002-04:00

Over the past four season, I have learnt a lot about the game of baseball from coaches I have worked with. New drills, mechanics, warm-ups; all were a mystery to me when I first started coaching baseball.

Coaching two national teams has exposed me to several of the better coaches in Israel, and one of the best I have worked with is Amit. Amit and I spent almost every Wednesday night together on the baseball diamond, running practices for our Young Cadet (13-15) national team. At 20, he knows more about the game then I have ever known, and is a considerably better player than I will ever be.

Still, we got along well, and many of the things I learned from working with him I use in my team's practices.

And now that I am playing baseball, I have integrated many of his lessons into my game. Like leadoffs, and head-first dives back to the bag. Most especially, I bring his hitting approach to each at bat. With no strikes, I am looking for one pitch, or I'm not swinging. As I get deeper into the count, my strike zone expands, from one pitch one spot to protecting the plate and shortening my swing to get the ball in play.

Amit pitches for his team, and as luck would have it, our first two regular seaosn games were against his Tel Aviv team. He started the game behind the plate, and stayed there until the eighth, when he came in to try and hold a 3-2 lead with runners on second and third. The runners had already come in by the time I stepped to the plate, with a runner on first, two outs, and a 4-3 lead.

Amit throws hard, harder then anyone I have seen so far, and it was no surprise when he struck me out for the second out of the inning. His pitches move around the plate, and for a rookie like me, getting the bat on the ball is no easy task.

Which brought us to game two, played last night. This time, Amit was the starter, and by the time I got up to the plate, with one on and two outs in the bottom of the second, we were already losing 9-0.

I stepped to the plate with a positive approach. He may throw hard, but I wasn't conceding the at bat. He might get me out, but he was going to have to earn it. The first pitch was a ball, low and outside. It's a tempting pitch to swing at; you think you can crush it, but it stays out of reach. The next pitch looked low, and I let it go, but the ump called strike one. He brought some high heat for the third pitch of the At Bat, and I swung badly, my worst swing of the night.

With a 1-2 pitch coming up, I dug into the box, mentally prepared myself to protect the plate, and looked at the mound. He threw another fastball, toward the outside of the plate, and I swung.

When you swing a bat at a thrown ball, you want to do more than make contact. You want to connect the fat part of the bat with the front of the ball. And when you make that kind of contact, it feels perfect. The bat, the ball, in perfect sync; the ball torpedoing off for hopefully a line drive hit.

And if you didn't guess yet, it was perfect. The ball shot off the bat down the first base line. The First baseman, who was standing on the line to hold the runner, didn't have to move to catch it. Three outs. End of the inning. End of a solid At Bat.

Practice

2009-09-03T16:56:00.003-04:00

Over the past three years, I have attended well over 100 baseball practices. Morning practice, afternoon practice, night practice. I have woken up for 6 AM practices, and come home eafter 10 PM from the field from other practices. I have taken part in two a days, four hour sessions, and pitched thousands of baseballs in batting practice.

Tonight I went to another baseball practice, but for the first time ever, it was as a player, and not a coach. At 35, I have finally joined a team.

When I was a kid I wanted to play in the Oak Park little league. My parents did not want me to play then. Sometimes I was told that the sport was dangerous, other times the reason was Friday night games. Whatever the reason, instead of playing hard ball with the city little league I played soft ball in the shul league.

I have played, though. A few times. Pick up games. But I never imagined I get to play in a league, with umpires and team shirts and baseball pants and dugouts and all the other things that come with an official league. And then, a few weeks ago, while playing catch between two games of a double header in Arrezzo, I decided it was my turn to play. I was going to give up coaching the national team, and take one year to play baseball.

When I left to practice, my biggest fear was that I would embarrass myself. The fear was heightened when I saw some of the players at practice, including the 20-year old head coach who I went to Italy with last month.

I was worried that ground balls would go through my legs, that my throws would run wild, and all I would manage at the plate was a feeble ground ball, if I even made that much contact. Fortunately, none of that happened. There was some balls I should caught during infield drills, and some throws I need to put more mustard on to get them to third base, but overall, not very embarrassing. Even a few line drives to the outfield when I stepped up to the plate.

The guys on the team were great to hang out with, and I am looking forward to our first exhibition game on Tuesday, followed by our first regular season game on Thursday.

But before I do that, I have to get ready for Little League practice tomorrow.

Italy Tournament

2009-08-01T15:16:00.002-04:00

For those of you who are interested, you can watch as games are updated, and check out everyone's stats at the following website:

http://tuscanyseries.it/2009_ENG/risultati_2009.php#

Click where it says Baseball Allievi in Arezzo (August 3-5) and in Siena (August 6-9). They aren't playing in Grosseto this year.

Good luck to R and D! We are very proud of you both!

My Friend Named Sam

2009-03-12T11:50:00.003-04:00

Sam is a nice guy, I suppose. He grew up in Passaic, moved to Detroit, and lives there now. His father was the page number turned at Young Israel of Passaic/Clifton, and had a unique method for changing the magnetic page numbers. As the Chazzan approached the end of the page, he would slide the upcoming number onto the magnetic board, and slowly slide the number upward. As the Chazzan got closer and closer to the bottom of the page, the new page number would creep upwards, until finally, when the Chazzan reached th end of the page, the new numbers would be in place.

He married, divorced, and remarried. I think he has a son from his first marriage, not sure about what has happened in his second marriage. To be honest, I don't remember his wife's name, though I think it is her second marriage as well. And if I was to tell you everything I know about Sam, all I can really add is that I think he is touch older than me, that his mother passed away within the past year, and that he has one sister.

But sometime earlier this week, Sam friended me on Facebook. And being that I have nothing against Sam, I accepted his friendship. There was a time when I was very particular about who I accepted, but my standards have gone way down. There are people who collect facebook friends like baseball cards, trying to amass as many as they can, studying their information and reading their status updates. I am not that kind of facebook user. I like the platform for the games, and friends provide me with opponents to challenge.

So Sam, who is not really a friend, who I have had a complete conversation with him in the 14 years I have known him, and I are Facebook friends. He can see when I play Scrabble, Word Twist, Scramble, and update my status. He has access to pictures, and public conversations I have with other people.

Which brings us to March 15, 2009. Un-Friend Someone Day. The brainchild of Joe Hocheiser, the Ides of March is the day to get rid of your friends you don't really want. He wants you to get rid of at least one friend who you don't want.

So the question is, do I whack Sam, or find someone else who is not adding anything to my life.

For Helen. Or Hilda.

2009-02-15T12:37:00.002-05:00

Veev's grandmother on her mother Helen's side was a elderly woman named Hilda. Hilda Minde was a holocaust survivor whose best years for long past by the time I met her. Veev and I always thought it was a funny coincidence that her maternal grandparents, Abe and Hilda, shared the same name as my grandparents, and even more coincidentally, shared the same last four digits of their phone number, 5076. But I digress.

By the time I met Hilda, or Bubbie as we called, her, she was a shell of her former self, but to my surprise, she lasted a lot longer than I thought she would. As too many people do, she made Aliyah in a box in 2006, and can be found about twenty minutes outside of Modiin, in the Young Israel section of one of the cemeteries outside Beit Shemesh.

At her first Yahrzeit, in the summer of 2007, we went to say a few T'hillim, and do whatever it is people do when they remember the departed. We brought the kids, and at least for my littlest, it was her first time going to the cemetery. To make the visit meaningful, we had her and my middlest color a few rocks to place on the headstone.

As Chanukah this year approached, Veev and I decided not to give each other gifts. We haven't really given gifts in a long time, and just for the record, we don't give the kids gifts either on Chanukah. Its not that we don't think the kids shouldn't get gifts, it's just that we are mean.

Despite our agreement, I wanted to give Aviva a token gift, so I made a mix CD for her, full of country music that I thought she would like, especially since we are half a world away from a decent country music station on the radio. And every fourth or fifth track, I added in a track of fake news. You know, like my brother Yakoff wanting to sue the State of Israel for kidnapping his siblings, nieces and nephews, and mocking my son for being a fan of Everything on Facebook, because he was already a fan of everything else.

And of course, Veev's grandmother's tombstone made it into one of the news sketches. I talked about how police were investigating apparent vandalism of the tombstone, as it appeared that someone had left colored rocks all over the tombstone, and after a recent rainfall, the color had run all over the headstone.

So Veev plays the CD, and skips all the music to listen to the sketches of me poking fun at both of our families. Which she thinks is quite funny. But the she stops, after listening to the report about her grandmother's vandalized headstone, and plays it for me. My voice fills the air, as I, in a most serious voice, report on the vandalized tombstone of Helen Minde.

What, I ask? What's wrong. Is it too far? I did not think it was too far. It's not like I had resurrected her, or done anything to her. Justa silly thing about Veev's grandmother's tombstone. So she played it again. And again, I listened as I reported on the vandalization of Helen Minde's tombstone.

What's wrong, I asked again. Shaking her head, Veev said, "R, you just killed of my mother."

Jeans at the table

2008-12-13T16:06:00.002-05:00

They showed up in jeans, three seventh grade girls coming to their first Dati shabbat meal. Each one carried a bag, phone in their purse, and were dropped off by one of their dads, who shouted Shabbat Shalom to us as he drove home. We made the kiddush, and asked them if they wanted to wash Netilat Yadayim.

Two chose to partake in the washing ritual, all three hungrily dug into the fresh-made Challah.

And so we ate. They were surprisingly uncurious about what we were doing. No questions about Shalom Aleichem, Eishet Chayil, or our short conversation about the parsha.

Across the table sat two seminary girls. Religious from birth, I wondered what each group thought about the other. Were our Chiloni students curious about the religious rituals we went through? What did our seminary girls think about the three kids who had no problem reading Birkat HaMazon when we finished eating, possibly for the first times in their lives.

We live in such an amazing place. It was not the first time we have had people who were not religious at our Shabbat table, and not the first time we had seen people with almost no connection to religion have no trouble when it comes to Birkat HaMazon.

It is certainly a fry cry from our experience in the US, when our irreligious company sat in respectful silence while we bentched, or tried to read the transliteration in the NCSY bentcher.

Back to School

2008-10-23T11:57:00.002-04:00

I teach an after-school class, called a חוג in Hebrew. I teach English reading and writing to First Graders in order to bring them up to English-speaking level for Second Grade. I taught them twice before the Chagim and today we had a review on what we learned. We also reviewed the two songs I taught them: "Little Rabbit Foo Foo" and "B-I-N-G-O". At some point one of the boys started to sing "B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, I love Aviva!" In the next round of the song, all the kids joined in.

I guess that's a good sign.

I Shudder to Think....

2008-09-14T18:43:00.002-04:00

I started teaching in a non-religious public middle school a couple of weeks ago. My first time in a non-religious environment - boys with an earring and gelled-up hair, girls with shorts so short, you wonder why they bother, and one 8th Grade student who yesterday walked in from her Hafsaka with cigarette breath. (Allowed, by the way...)

Later this morning I have to tell a young lady that she didn't pass the requirements of the English-speakers' class. In fact, she failed. Her English language is passable in most Israeli circles, even superior, but, compared to the kids who have spent several years abroad, or have an English-speaking parent, she's no where near.

She had been in an English-speakers' class in elementary school, probably because her father insisted. And probably because in elementary school the admissions standards are not as high. But we have an entrance exam that every incoming 7th Grader was required to pass in order to make it in. And she didn't. Simple as that. But is it?

It should be noted that she has gone through the following procedure:

1. She was turned away by me, as per the rules, a week after school began, when she walked into my classrom and announced that she belonged there. She was on no such list and hadn't shown up to take the admissions test, in the summer, when the rest of the students had. I had been told the day before, by a senior English-speakers' teacher, that registration was closed. "Try again next year," I was to tell the ones who tried to get in.

2. Her father called the school and spoke to the head of the English department who knew of no such rule and GAVE HIM my phone number, since it must be some kind of mistake! He then called me to ask why his daughter was turned away. I got more of her story and found out she was in English-speakers in elementary, she had been away for the summer, she was sick for the first week, etc. So I had pity on the kid and told the dad I would reconsider her. After all, why should red tape keep a viable candidate from her appropriate English education? Especially if she qualified....

3. She took the test during the next class period, but not until her father met me in person outside the school office. He wanted to be there while his daughter took the test. I told him that was out of the question. I reminded him that if she didn't pass the written section, she wasn't entitled to an interview. And we would leave it at that. Then he remembered "one more thing" he had to tell his daughter before her test and asked me where my classroom was. I don't know. I figured he would have asked a random kid in the hallway and found out anyway. So I told him. He then went to pressure her and remind her she had to do well.

4. She failed the written test, and I should have left it at that. But I called to tell that father that she failed. I also reminded him again that I did not have to interview her. But I knew he would pressure me to interview her anyway, so I pre-empted him. I told him that, although she had failed, I would test her verbal skills to see if she would Wow me. Could I please have his home number? He told me he wants me to meet with her face to face, and I told him that since we were beyond the test-dates, he would have to settle for a phone interview. He went on to say his daughter was extremely busy with after-school activities and couldn't possibly be reached until 8 PM. I only found out why later. He'd be home then... He also asked me to show him her test papers. Completely out of the question, I told him. We never do that, and don't even share the exact results. That much I knew. He tried to persuade me, but I wouldn't budge on this.

5. I called the girl at 8 PM and her father picked up the phone. Needless to say, she didn't Wow me. At the end of the 10-15 minute interview, I told the child I would let her know in school tomorrow. Jeez, I'm such a coward. I keep delaying the inevitable. We hung up, and two minutes later Dad called me back. He wanted to know the results. I told him I would let his daughter know tomorrow. He said, "You know I was listening to the interview on the extention." I guess I could have figured that out. (Ma Zeh Chutzpan!!!!)

6. I decided to call the head of the English department and ask her advice. Something about this guy doesn't sit well with me. She told me to tell the kid in school that she failed and call the dad from school to tell him, too. That's the procedure. I really believe that the principal should call the dad so it doesn't become personal. It should be explained as "school policy" and not MY personal policy. Truth is, I don't care either way. I can teach anybody.

I was once in a position similar to this one in Detroit. A kid was on probation and was in my class. When I asked him at picture-taking day, outside the classroom, where he got that thumbtack, he slammed it into my hand and broke skin. He was kicked out that day. And I was scared of his dad, too.

And it should also be noted that anyone who wants to can carry a gun here. And also that it's 2 AM, and everything freaks me out at this time of night. Maybe I'll have one of the guards escort me to class tomorrow. There are FIVE!

First Grade Prayer

2008-09-03T17:13:00.005-04:00

My baby asked me to write a note to her teacher. She said I could write whatever I wanted, as long as I wrote it in her notebook. Oh, and it had to be in Hebrew. Which wasn't happening. But I wrote the letter anyway, in English. And because I can't send it to the teacher, I am putting it here.

Dear Teacher,

N is my beautiful, sweet daughter. She has been blessed with love, health, friends, happiness and a love of learning. And this week, we put her education in your hands.

I hope you can give her the keys to unlock the alphabet and teach her to love reading. Unravel the mysteries of numbers for her, and teach her the value of math. I hope you build onto the foundation of Judaism which we have constructed for her.

Tell her stories about the world and pique her curiosity about her environment. Transmit to her a deeper love of Israel, of God, of Religion.

Push her, but don't knock her down. And when she falls, gently lift her back up and send her on her way. I have three children, but only one daughter, one baby. And I am entrusting her to you for this first year of formal education.

N's Daddy

WARNING Sensitive Material to Follow

2008-08-27T12:08:00.002-04:00

I went to my first OB/Gyn appointment when Air and I were engaged, on Purim, 1995. I liked Doctor L. immediately. He has a very soothing voice and puts you at ease right away. He reminded me of my pediatrician whom I had just left weeks before.

I saw him for 11 years, through three pregnancies. Even though he hasn't delivered babies in years, I still insisted on seeing him once I switched from a Gyn to an OB patient. And he let me.

Breast exams are not pleasant, but somehow he always distracted me by asking questions about my family or discussing the latest movies or books. As if he wasn't doing what he was doing, and we were at a cocktail party having a drink. It should be noted that I am pretty squeamish about certain things, and let's leave it at that.

Today I had my second appointment with a breast surgeon in Israel. A year ago we were in a car accident and I sustained bruising in many parts of my body, including the breast that was under the seatbelt. My knee still has nerve damage and my back is out more often now, but the worst result was that I found two hard hemotomas under the skin in my left side. In other words, two huge lumps. Freaked out, I called my Gyn and she told me that in Israel, your Gyn does not to breast exams. So I had to see a surgeon.

Long story short, an ultrasound and mammogram showed that the lumps are not cancerous and most probably resulted from the accident, Baruch Hashem.

Professor Moshe Shabtai, is one of the top surgeons in the country, is very professional and has a nice bedside manner, not to mention that he speaks English very well. But I couldn't help noticing that during the exam, he didn't ask me about my kids or what movies I have recently seen. Bottom line: I miss Dr. L.

*Important* For those of you who have not yet made Aliyah, there is no nurse in the room for ANY medical exam. Yes, you read that right. Just you and the doctor.

ושבו בנים לגבולם

2008-08-27T11:38:00.002-04:00

I don't really know how to express the feeling of pure happiness that Shauli, Nat, Jonah and Sammy are arriving in Israel in a couple of weeks. I said goodbye a couple of times, and of course we've been the Olim, too, but we're the most recent greeted ones in our family, and I haven't experienced a Zacks Aliyah from this side yet.

I have been at two NBN arrivals since our own arrival two years ago. One was to greet my parents' oldest friends, the Kligmans, who came from Passaic two weeks after we got here, during the Second Lebanon War. I remember I couldn't stop crying out of sheer amazement by the Emunah in the new Olim. They knew where they were going. Some were even taking that first free taxi-ride to their new homes in the North and heading straight for their Miklatim. Unbelieveable. All I was dealing with at the time was a slight delay of our lift because the port of Haifa was closed due to 200 rockets landing there each day.

The second NBN arrival I attended was last month when our friends, the Spolters, made Aliyah to Yad Binyamin. The family of six came out of the bus, and my kids could not contain their excitement. Our kids have been friends for 7 years and really missed each other. When they saw my boys, they were so happy and sat with them for the speeches. My boys, already Vatikim, gave them endless advice about school and friends in Israel. So lovely to watch. It should also be noted that my Oldest has been in constant contact with their oldest since their announcement that they were making Aliyah, and even put together a dictionary of all the Hebrew terms he would need in school. (I see a future for him at NBN.)

But this one will be even better, I think. My brother-in-law and sister-in-law are coming home - finally. We'll all be there to watch the 5th Zacks officially make Aliyah. What a huge Z'chut for all of us!

Dolphins

2008-08-25T17:21:00.003-04:00

It is almost four o'clock on Sunday. The Eilat sun beats down on us, as we sit on the dock at the dolphin pool. We spent much of the morning in the car driving down to Eilat. There wasn't any of the usual arguing over CDs, and the kids sat in the car and enjoyed their first long car ride since the move. But now we laid flat on the deck, hands in the water, trying to do what we could to attract the dolphins over to us.

The dolphins had an agenda of their own. It included jumping in the air, doing flips, swimming fast under the dock and popping up on the other side, and racing with each other across the pond.

We watched, pleaded, splashed and kicked water hoping to attract the dolphins, but after 30 minutes all we had to show for it was wet arms and feet, and a few pictures of dolphins frolicking in the water. But my kids learned the meaning of magic. Its when a dolphin, creature of the air and sea, noiselessly swims by, giving you only a glimpse of a shadow, before popping high out of the water to an adoring audience, and then looks back to admire the crowd.

I feel obligated to put up this post

2008-08-20T16:03:00.002-04:00

You know those times when you sign up for something that is like, say. a month into the future. And it seems like it is a reasonably good idea. Or almost a good idea. And then that day finally comes and you say to your self, oh shit, I have to go to that.

So I had one of those moments this morning. My buddy Jameel from Muqata convinced me to go to NBN's international blogger convention. Admittedly, it didn't take too much for me to be convinced, but I did not really want to go, but he said it would be good, and anyway, I digress. He convinced me to go. And I got Veev to go, so at least I had someone to go with.

But as I was sitting in traffic this morning, as part of a special two hour commute thanks to some guy who jumped a curb on the four and killed a woman waiting for a bus, I kept thinking to myself, I don't really want to go from this two hour commute to sit in an office for six hours, to get on a 90 minute bus ride from Ranana to Jerusalem, to learn how to improve my web site traffic.

Especially since, as you few souls who trickle into this blog know, I haven't done anything to encourage traffic in about two years. That includes writing content, commenting on other blogs to get traffic here, or begging my friends om work to come visit.

After sitting through it, I have to say it was really cool when Bibi walked in and spoke for half an hour, answering questions and spreading his Likud Bibi agenda. I did not know that Jews continued to live in Israel after the destruction of Bayit Sheni until they were finally kicked out by the Arabs 700 years later, but I do now.

I can also say, without any fear of being wrong, the their are no hot girls blogging. If you are a chick, and you are blogging, and you think you are hot, check the mirror babe. Hot girls do lots of things, and even find themselves on numerous blogs, but they are not bloggers.

The event was nice. Other than Bibi popping in, we had someone from the Foreign Ministry office give us a very interesting talk about Branding Israel. Her content was interesting, but her presentation style needs improving, and she ran out of time before she got to the punch line.

I know you guys were all watching it online, so you don't need me to tell you this, but for the one or two of you that missed the live webcast, now you have it.

Nefesh B'Nefesh, which sponsored the event, did a nice job putting it together. I am a huge NBN fan. But I probably shouldn't have gone tonight. I don't really like the Jblogosphere, and prefer not to be a part of it.

And since Japan is playing Curacao on ESPN in the Little League World Series right now, its time for me to check out.

Tisha Baav Observation

2008-08-11T03:39:00.002-04:00

Last week, as I walked through Rome, I couldn't help think about how odd it was to be in there during the nine days. The Arch of Titus is still there, which was built to celebrate the destruction of Jerusalem and Israel. 2000 years later, it hasn't changed.

I wanted to get a close look at the arch, but our tour didn't allow it, and we only saw it as we drove by it and the Collesium on our way back to the hotel. Still, even without a close look, I couldn't help feel out of place in Rome.

The people who live in Rome today are descendants of our ancient conquerors. While the empire of Rome is long gone, there doesn't seem to be any wave of immigration or destruction that completely changed the nature of the city. The people walking along the cafes and streets in Rome are possibly descendents of Titus' army that destroyed our Beit HaMikdash.

Rome came into Israel and completely kicked our ass. They destroyed the Beit HaMikdash, and sent Jews into an exile from which we still daven for an end to. We have gone from country to country over the past two millenia, and even though some of us have returned to our homeland, the political and religious situation of our land have been directly impacted by that exile.

But when you look around Rome, the Italians there don't even know about their connection to Israel. There was no fair celebrating military victories long past. They sent us into a tailspin that we still mourn, yet they have no sense of what their ancestors did to us. Its like we were a a little bug that they crushed. It has no meaning at all to them today, yet their occupation, destruction and dispersion of our people are central to our lives today. Especially yesterday.

Final Results

2008-08-05T01:51:00.002-04:00

We saved our very worst for last. Worst pitching. Worst fielding. Worst day of hitting cutoff men and making good throws. DId I mention we were no hit?

Still, despite losing to a Czech team that we beat three days earlier, the tournament was a high for the team. The kids gelled as a team, and at one point had won six games in a row. We became the first Israel Juvenile baseball team to play in the championship game. So looking at the big picture, we did fine. It was just too bad we had nothing left for the finals.

As for the pitcher we faced, after the game we learned that he is the top pitcher in Europe of his age group. He is tall, throws hard, and was on the corner with every pitch. And his changeup. As my oldest said on our post game meeting, the kids learned that a devistating changeup can kill you.

We are in Rome today, then on a flight tonight going back to Israel. And I'm sure I'll write more about this later.

Too Many False Heroes

2008-07-28T14:57:00.002-04:00

Go ahead.

Turn on "MTV Cribs." (Do they really need 300 pairs of sneakers and 6 cars?)

Read all about dozens of home runs in the MLB. (We all know how they get them)

And now watch a true hero: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iq7oMtYT6TQ

(Too preachy? Too bad.)

Pardon Me, Madam, Your Neurosis is Showing

2008-07-28T07:39:00.002-04:00

With Air out of town, I am feeling very strong and able to handle any problem. Whenever faced with a challenge, I have always been able to overcome it, or to at least try my best. The kitchen has never been cleaner, the laundry is taken care of, the children are relaxing. I am a spoiled, spoiled lady, and I'll be the first to admit it. Air has been taking care of a lot of the housework since we've been married. In fact, my first thought when he left was, "Jeez, now I have to do the dishes and laundry."

Except that I can't (or maybe won't) sleep at night.

It's not like I'm afraid of intruders; with bars on every window and a super-duper front door double lock, it's Fort Knox in here.

It goes back a ways, too. When I was a little kid, I suffered from acute insomnia - I slept about 6 hours a night - from 10-2 and from 5-7. Those three hours in the middle were just exruciating. I hated being the only one awake in the house because I thought it was my responsibilty to "take care of things." I would sometimes wake up my older sister/roommate and ask her to stay up with me. She was very sweet and tried, but couldn't make it after about 30 seconds.

I'm pretty much over the insomnia now, except in certain nerve-wracking times like when I watch the news or when Air is out of town.

G

2008-07-27T18:52:00.002-04:00

My Grandma spent the first couple of minutes of our phone conversation today thinking I was my sister. It's a common mistake. People have always had trouble distinguishing us on the phone. I think only Air and one of his brothers can tell the difference in our voices. Even our own mother needs to be informed of our identities at the beginning of each conversation. We have had guests who are former students of my sister's who have asked me not to talk because "it's too weird. You sound like Aliza."

The difference is that my Grandpa repeatedly told her it was me and she just didn't get it.

The difference is that my Grandma's Alzheimer's is taking a nose-dive.

Serving Israel

2008-07-24T01:17:00.004-04:00

I arrived in Israel too late to join the army. Not that I tried or could have afforded to join the army, but there is not much need in the army for a 32 year old father of three with no experience.

Still, when you live in Israel, and everyone around you serves in Millium, you want to do something for your country.

Since arriving in Israel I have contributed to my community by volunteer coaching my oldest's baseball team. The past two seasons have been fun, and I enjoyed watching the kids improve on the diamond.

A few months ago, I was asked to be on the National Juvenile team's coaching staff. It wasn't an easy committment. Weekly midweek practices required that I left work early, and when we played multiple games in a week, I really wrecked my work schedule. But deciding to be a coach was easy. Some people in Israel serve in the army; I coach baseball. It's not much in comparison, but it is what I can do.

Last night we had our final practice in Israel. We playe a scrimmage, starters vs the bench, and as expected, our starting nine beat the bench rather easily. My oldest, who is playing for the National team for his second season, had a nice hit and pitched an inning for the starting team. As I was coaching the bench team, I coached against him for the first time, and even though I was pulling for our pitcher to get him out, i was glad when he reached base in both of his at bats.

Late Saturday night, or early Sunday morning, we are going to airport to fly to Italy for two tournaments. Veev is understandably jealous. Last summer she accompanied our oldest on the trip, but went to the Czech Republic. It was a good trip for her, but it wasn't Italy.

Depending on how well we play, we have up to 11 games over the ten days we will be there. We will also have a day touring the Tuscany region, and a day in Rome. The trip should be physically exhausting, but fun, and it is something that I have looked forward to for the past few weeks.

It is really amazing to think that two summers ago we made this move to a place we didn't really know, and now, I have the opportunity to represent Israel and Judaism in an International baseball tournament. It is an opportunity I could not have envisioned before coming, and something that I never would have had the chance to do living in Michigan.

And this is my committment to my adopted country. I will represent them well. I will wear the name of Israel across my chest, in my blue and white uniform, with all the pride I can muster for my new and ancient homeland. I don't know how many games we will win or how well we will play, but I know that when we leave Italy, their impression of Israel will be altered from the pictures they see on the 11 o'clock news. They will see kids and adults fully ensconced in the joy of a game. They will see people who act with kindness toward others, a team dedicated not only to playing the game, but playing with sportsmanship. And hopefully, if all goes well, they will see a team with gold medals draped from our necks.

Scary Moment

2008-07-21T14:21:00.003-04:00

I am part of the coaching staff for the Israel Juvenile National Baseball team. We are going to Italy on Sunday morning for a ten-day, eleven-game road trip, where we will play two tournaments in the Tuscany region.

We had a scary moment at practice today. We had the kids running suicides after practice, and one of the kids suddenly started wheezing and couldn't catch his breath. We pulled the kid to the side, and one of the other coaches stayed with him and helped him relax and catch his breath.

After a minute or two his breathing returned to normal, and his dad is going to have him checked out by a doctor tomorrow.

Baseball at gym

2008-07-16T02:29:00.003-04:00

I am in the gym this morning. It is 7:20, and the Extreme Spotrs channel is on TV. The guy on the elliptical next to me has the remote, and I ask him if he is watching this. He isn't, and passes me the remote.

I flip on ESPN, hoping to catch the last few minutes of the All Star game, and am treated to the National League batting in the top of the twelth, with the bases loaded and two outs.

The guy next to me tells me he doesn't like baseball, but doesn't mind if I keep it on. I am relieved; the thought of another twenty minutes on the machine watching crap when I could be watching baseball is abhorent. Maybe not abhorent. Maybe just a deep level of suck.

The feed comes back to begin the bottom of the twelth, and opens with a shot of Yankee Stadium from the blimp. I know why the guy next to me isn't interested. He doesn't know that he is looking at the very mound where Don Larsen pitched a perfect game from in the 1956 World Series, that this is where the Babe changed the game of baseball by hitting homerun after homerun, and the site of the first great home run chase back in 1961.

The Tiger's lone representative leads off the bottom of the twelth with a drive off the wall in left, and goes in for a stand up double. Grady Sizemore grounds out to second, moving Guillen to third with only one out. I want to see Guillen score; I like watching Tigers in my highlights, but on this night it is not to be.

The game continues on to the 13th, and as I am staring dead ahead on the screen, a woman who is now on our set of machines asks if I am watching. Yes, I tell her, and continue to watch the game. I have the remote, which means I am in charge of what happens on TV for as long as I am on the machine.

My friend Mike walks into the gym. After watching the opening ceremony, he went back to sleep, and had no idea that the game was still on. He takes the machine next to me and we watch together through the bottom of the thirteenth. My thirty minutes are up, and I need to get to the office, so I leave the remote in ihs capable hands. Mike's enthusiasm for the game has diminished all hope the woman had of changing the channel, and she leaves the machine shortly after I do.

I shower and return to my office, and catch the end of the game on MLB.com radio. I had hoped they would show the game for free, as they occasionally do in the last inning of a no hitter, but they do not. I am listening as the AL wins on a sacrifice fly off Brad Lidge.

At the same time as this is going on, Israel is in the middle of a prisoner swap. Two of ours, possibly alive but probably long dead, in exchange for five really bad guys. The trade reminds me of some old Tiger trades, where we gave up prospects in exchange for nothing, but I understand the need for closure with Goldwasser and Rechev, and hope that Gilad Shalit will be coming home soon.

I choose not to try to find a video feed online. It is partly the hebrew, but more because it is a game I don't understand. Like the guy standing next to me at gym, this is a game which has been played long before I got here, and will continue to be played for a long time, and one where I don't have the sense of history that most Israelis get after serving in the IDF.

"Directness Is Not My Most Attractive Asset"

2008-07-14T07:12:00.003-04:00

My brother used to play hockey on Sundays at the Y in elementary school. His games ended right before dinner. "Sweaty and smelly" would be two descriptive words for him during those times. He would arrive at the table and pile hamburgers and mashed potatoes on his plate, every week. And every week I would tell him to go take a shower first. He would so much as toss a glance at our mother, and she would say to me, "Leave him alone. He's hungry."

That would be followed by my very loud remarks about how it's unappetising to sit at a table and be expected to eat under such conditions. (I think that's why I don't like hamburgers today.) My diatribes usually continued over the entire course of dinner. My mother would repeatedly tell me to stop, and my brother would eventually stomp away in anger or turn it into a joke, wrestling me to the floor and shoving his armpit in my face. Either way, he never showered before dinner, no matter my protests.

My beautiful son goes to baseball camp to prepare for the trip to Italy with the Israel Little League National Team. In 90 degree weather. Every day. He could be described as "sweaty and smelly" at this point in his life as well.

But this time I'm the Mom. And he doesn't come to the table without showering or changing his clothes.

Ahhhhh, finally. Tikun Olam.

Mercaz Mystery - Solved

2008-07-13T09:32:00.002-04:00

It is July, 2008. I rarely think about Mercaz HaTorah anymore, even though I am a mere 30 minute drive away from 17 Ein Tzurim. It is the past. A few weeks earlier a seminary girl visited us for Shabbat, and without knowing I was a Mercaz Alum, told us her boyfriend of four years attends Mercaz. When she learns that I am a Mercaz alum who ditched his hat the day he left Mercaz, she breathes a sigh of relief, and hopes her boyfriend does the same. I don't tell her that he is much likelier to drop her, as the hat is something he picked up this year. But other than that, Mercaz is the past.

Or so I think.

I check my email and get a comment from Deenz on an old Mercaz post. She loves the blog she says, but I am wrong when I wrote that Boomer never got anyone kicked out of Mercaz. She claims that her friend, "L," was very close to a Mercaz boy, who she calls "K." At some point, she says, "K" was busted by boomer and kicked out of Mercaz. The only other clue she leaves is that "K" had a funny last name.

I wrack my brains but can't think of "K." There is only one "K" I vaguely remember, a guy named Kestenbaum. We were in different circles, but I doubt he is the one.

There are not many Mercaz people I am still in touch with, but there is Lippy. He loves traveling down memory lane, and I send him an email. Did you ever hear this story, I ask. No, he answers, and asks if I am sure it is from our year. I leave a comment for Deenz, wondering if she will come back and answer. She does, and confirms that it is 1991-92. She adds a bit more information. The boy is from New York, she says, and was a total Mercaz Cutie.

I expand the circle to include David and Yitzi. David expands it one step further, adding Stretch and Yehudah. Between the six of us, we have never heard the story, and cannot think of who the mystery “K” is.

We contact our Mercaz Alumni rep, asking for a roster of our year under the premise that someone is trying to get in touch with someone. The emails start flying back and forth. Many of us have fallen out of touch, but the rhythm between us returns. Smart ass answers, and then a guess. Donny King, says Yehudah.

In the meantime, I have opened an email chat with Deenz. She has confirmed that it is Donny King. But she does not tell us the story of how he got kicked out. Only that she thinks that he was the victim of geography, and used to hang out with a Machon Gold girl in her seminary named Lisa.

Emails continue to fly between me and my old Mercaz buddies. No one has been in touch with King since our Mercaz days, and no one knows how to reach him. Oddly enough, Yehudah sends out my original email to Dudi, a friend who did not attend Mercaz.

Dudi, it turns out, has been friends with King, and sends the email to him. King replies to Dudi, who forwards it to me, and soon, Donny King and I have opened up an email conversation. Yes, he confirms, Boomer caught him and another guy, Edward Z at the mall in Talpiot.

The day began in Netanya, where two girls needed to be pulled out from the undercurrent by lifeguards. I was not there, but arrived in Netanya after the girls had been rescued. My friends and I spend the night in Netanya. We are not friends with King, and did not know he was there. He returns back to Talpiot, and goes with Edward to the mall to shoot some pool.

They were alone in the pool hall, during Bein HaZmanim. It is the very beginning of the spies in Mercaz. When they are approached by Boomer, they ask, beg, plead with Boomer not to turn them in> He seems to waver about what he is going to do, but then reports them anyway. As they leave, they bump into two other Mercaz guys. They warn them about Boomer, and the other boys flee.

They are summoned to the Chief’s house, and wait in a small room, cell-like in nature, and wait. The first student, Edward Z is called into the dining room and chewed out by the chief. Then the chief calls Donny in to his office. He is more resigned with Donny, and tells him that Donny is like a son to him, and he is kicking him out. There is no yelling. The chief says that they can stay in the dorm for now, but he will help the boys find an alternative yeshiva.

Succos Bein Hazmanim ends, and the chief calls Edward and Donny into his office. He has reconsidered, and will allow them to stay in the yeshiva under the following conditions. They must sleep at a kollel man’s house, Bodkins, and must pay him $100.

They accept the terms and move in with Bodkins. They have avoided ouster. Time passes. One Saturday night they King arrives at Bodkins house. Bodkins is getting ready to go spy in town. Where were you, he casually asks. King tells him the truth. Ben Yehudah street. They both laugh. Bodkins does not believe him.

King continues on in Yeshiva, and strikes up a friendship with Machon Gold girls. Sixteen years later I am impressed with his sac. After nearly being thrown out, and certainly put on probation, he had every reason to hide in the Beit Medrash and ride out the year. But he does not. He manages to get involved with a Machon Gold girl, and while he and Deenz dispute the nature of his relationship with Lisa, there is no doubt that he put himself out there.

Sixteen years have passed, and there is still much bitterness toward Boomer and Bodkins. But I notice something interesting as these various conversations unfold. Donny tells me that the night Bodkins turned on Yonaton, he told Bodkins that he ruined someone’s life. I am still in touch with Yonaton, not as often as I would like to be, but enough to know that in no way was his life ruined by getting kicked out of Mercaz. I wonder if any of the drama we create for ourselves in Yeshiva really matters at all.

We had fun, and expanded the boundaries that Mercaz laid out for us. But after all this time I have come to realize that the mistake Mercaz made happened long before the spies and the threats and the drama. It happened when they let too many of us in who didn’t belong there. On paper, we may have fit the Mercaz mold, but when it came down to reality, most of us were not Mercaz material, and both us and the Yeshiva would have been better served if we went elsewhere.

Don't Mess with a "Donkey on Edge"

2008-07-09T12:48:00.003-04:00

I've been a little stressed since yesterday, and spent the whole day in my PJ's. After sitting around watching TV all day, I took two of the kids to buy their school books this afternoon. More than 700 Shek later... And I didn't even get all of them, and I haven't even started with Oldest yet. But, hey, at least there's no tuition.

They were so well-behaved in comparison to the other kids waiting for their parents in the check-out line. I saw two kids hitting and kicking each other. Their mother repeatedly told them to stop, which they did each time for 30 seconds. Once, she actually told her son to sit down next to her, and he said, "No". And then she appealed to the older sister, to which she got a one-shoulder shrug which (loosely) means, "Screw you, I don't care what you say, and I don't have to listen."

I hugged each of my children when we left and told them I love how they behave. Especially in public. No kid is perfect, and I wouldn't want my kids to be, but I'd rather they saved their fighting and attitudes for the living room, which miraculously, they manage to do. (My parents and siblings will remember a similar reaction when we left someone's house one Friday night when we were kids. Their kids were bouncing off the walls the whole time, and we were sitting politely. Right when we left, both my parents grabbed my little brother - not the best-behaved in our house but an angel compared to those kids - and hugged him.)

As we were driving away, I decided to take them to the new local mall that opened up here to walk around a bit. They always love to go into toy stores, and always ask for a toy, but are just as happy to play in there anyway, even if I don't buy them anything. And they both have a thing for malls. (Where'd they get that from?)

We drove down to the underground parking lot and were stopped by two very young, good looking Ethiopian-Israeli boys. (My mother says Ethiopians are the most beautiful Jews on the planet. I know they are by Western standards, but how does that translate in Africa?) One checked my trunk and the other handed me a flyer that I assumed was for sales in the mall. Without so much as a glance at the flyer, I turned my attention to the boy who had handed it to me. He said, "Don't forget, it's 50 Shek for the first 3 hours, and then 10 Skekels each additional hour." Breaking out my new-found Israeli attitude, I said, "No it's not. It's free for two hours of parking."

He said, "No, they changed the fee schedule. It's 50 Shekels."

I said, "Then I'm backing out. I haven't taken the ticket yet."

He said, "I can't let you do that."

I got my angry look to which he replied with a huge smile, "STAAAAAAAM!" I had to laugh. It's nice to see people enjoy their work.

As I drove into the lot, I looked down at the flyer... "Two hours free parking."

The Mad Burper

2008-07-06T17:01:00.001-04:00

Over the years, Air Time has played host to a number of characters. Some of these characters grew to be beloved by my readership, like Boruch the Yeshiva Guy. Others, grew to be hated, Shloim, the New York Correspondent. Some of the people you have met in Air Time were real, like Micha, who finally closed the deal with #164 and then led us all to a dairy wedding in Louisville one fine Labor Day weekend, while others were just figments of my imagination.

In January 1999 I introduced the Mad Burper. It was Air Time #22, and on that Friday in January I wrote "I don't know why he tells me these things, but the Mad Burpers claims his mother suffers from clinical depression insane and his son is ADD. I keep waiting for him to get help for his burping, awful singing during shul, and semi-violent outbursts during kedusha."

A week later, in Air Time 24 (There was no Air Time #23. Air Time did not recognize the existence of #23, and to this day believes that Michael Jordan was just a gambling adict who got his father killed, and after being suspended from the NBA for a season due to his gambling came back to take advantage of a league weakened by expansion and still reeling from the AIDS crisis of Magic, but I digress) I wrote "Pesach, the Mad Burper is the guy who sits next to me in shul."

Clearly, someone named Pesach had emailed me to find out who the Mad Burper was, and I responded in Air Time.

Four weeks later, I updated the Air Time community again, claiming that "The mad burper may be moving his seat in shul. Last week he sat four seats away."

The Mad Burper disappeared from Airtime for a few months, and didn't reappear until November, in Air Time 62
The mad burper started coming to our shuir at the rabbis house, and can't seem to control himself. Wednesday night he averaged over 23 bpm (burps per minute) during the hour long shuir. He is not pleasant to sit near.

Four weeks later, in Air Time 66, I discussed the Mad Burper one more time.
"After a few months of leaving me alone, the Mad Burper is back. Usually he sits somewhere else in shul, but the last week or two he started sitting near me again, filling the air with burps, and coming over to talk. For some reason he likes talking to me and Mark, who sits next to me. I think it is because we don’t shoo him away when he walks over."

Going through some other archives, I found more one more Mad Burper reference, in November of 1999. It seems we were putting together either a fake newscast or newsletter of some kind for the shul, and the article said that the board wanted to ban the Mad Burper from shul for life, but the constitution committee ruled it unconstitutional.

Six references in Air Time, although I am open to the possibility that he also appeared in issues of the Shuckler, my fake YIOP newsletter.

The Mad Burper was a character from shul. He got his nickname due to his constant burping, and while I did not know him well, we did talk occasionally in shul. I don't think he ever wanted to come to our shul; but the merger forced his hand, along with many others, and they found themselves at the Young Israel of Oak Park.

At one point he started attending a shuir I went to, and the burping was distracting to everyone at the table. But no one would say anything, I'd write a snarky comment behind his back, and then move on.

He would get angry in shul a lot, and tried to out-sing the Chazzan with a voice that was not chazzan-grade. But I give him credit, he did put himself out there.

I don't know what happened to the Mad Burper over the past eight years. He would occasionally find his way into shul, and I would see him every now and again at a community function, but it seems like he dropped out of the community, or at least, out of my view of the community for a while.

I hadn't heard his name for many years, until today.

The Mad Burper died yesterday. May his family find comfort amongst the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem, and his soul find comfort that seemed to elude him in his time here on earth.

Two Years Ago Today...

2008-07-06T09:45:00.002-04:00

I couldn't stop crying.

My mother was the easiest to say "Goodbye" to because she was joining us soon.

We got off the plane to greet the rest of our lives.

We all said the Bracha "Shehechiyanu" to honor the Mitzvah of Yishuv Eretz Yisrael.

We were greeted by smiling, crying family and friends.

We bunked in at our family's place for a while, making a HUGE mess.

We had no idea a war was about to start.

We had no idea we were already in the middle of a completely different kind of war.

Our apartment was hard to find and filthy and lavishly decorated by friends.

Our lift was delayed by one week and two days.

We never imagined living here would be so fulfilling.

Graduation

2008-06-16T05:35:00.003-04:00

I remember hoping, back in 2001 as my oldest was getting ready for first grade, that he would have good teacher. That he would have a teacher who challenged him, pushed him, and taught him. Long before this blog, on Air Time the Newsletter, I remember writing a poem about hopes that I had for my oldest. I don't think these thoughts are unique; I would be surprised if every parent didn't have the same hopes and fears when sending their oldest to first grade.

Over the course of his elementary education I have not been a hands-on parent. I have tried to get out of going to almost every teachers conference, and tried to avoid the ridiculous programs that they try to get parents to come to. Sometimes I have been able to get out of it, other times I suffered through the productions, hoping to sit next to someone who I could talk to, always pissing Veev off with my indifference to the event and my desire to be home.

But tonight is different. I think that graduating sixth grade is an accomplishment, much more so than my daughter's graduation from Gan later this week. Hi graduates at the top of his class, a position he held before Aliyah, and one that is a much greater accomplishment than beforehand, as he is performing in a stellar manner in his second language.

I'm sure, as the proceedings drag on, I will pray for deliverance from the room in which I am emprisoned. And yet, I look forward to being there, watching him graduate, and seeing him finish his elementary education.

Questions

2008-06-15T02:13:00.001-04:00

How do you trust yourself as a parent?
How do you be sure you've taught your kids properly?
How do you let go?

Oh Cursed Watermelon!

2008-06-05T08:31:00.003-04:00

Air and I have had a long, ugly relationship with watermelon. One summer Friday, when we were first married, we bought several bags worth of fruit and vegetables. Unfortunately, we forgot and we left the watermelon in the trunk all Shabbos. By the time we got it out, the car stank. And it remained stinky until we sold it 3 years later.

Over the years, there have been other stories like this, but I will relate only two more.

Last Friday, I put a watermelon on the floor of the pantry since it was a hot day and there wasn't any room in the fridge. On Shabbos morning my daughter told me it was sticky on the floor of the pantry. The watermelon incurred a crack in it as I placed it on the floor and spent the whole night leaking out and all over the floor. Yuck! After Shabbos, it fell out of the garbage bag and made a huge mess on the kitchen floor.

Today I tried again and bought another watermelon. As I set it down on the ground with the other bags so I could shut the car door, it rolled out of the bag. And down the street. Down. The. Street. We live on a hill. I was quite a sight chasing the watermelon down the hill and stopping traffic. I did get it in the end, and lugged it up the hill again.

There don't seem to be any visable bruises, but I'm not sure whether it's going to make it to Shabbos.

*Update* The watermelon was cracked as evidenced by the puddle in the bag. And Air cut it up pre-Shabbos.

What a Week

2008-06-02T13:52:00.001-04:00

Sidney Pollack
YSL
Tommy Lapid
Bo Diddley
Our friend's young brother-in-law

RIP

"I Have Never Seen Anything Like This in my Life!"

2008-05-29T09:23:00.002-04:00

We have spent the past few days babysitting my niece who is one and a half. After the first 36 hours, she realized her Mom wasn't coming back so soon and attached herself firmly to me. Every time I walked out of the room, or put on my hair-covering, or put the car into park, she had a mini-meltdown. (I say "mini" because I have witnessed the real deal, too.)

So, bedtime. With her own parents, in her own Dalet Amot, she doesn't sleep well, needing a parent to stay until she falls asleep, and still waking in the middle of the night. Here, where she didn't know the place, she really freaked out at bedtime. I did what I used to do with my 1 1/2 year olds. I held her and sang Shema and Hamalach, read her a book, put her on the pillow and kissed her forehead. Then I left the room and put the gate up. Uh Uh. Nope. She screamed and slid out of the bed. Ran over to the gate.

OK, try something else. I put her back on her pillow and sat on the floor. Nope. She screamed, slid out bed and into my arms.

One more time, I put her on her pillow and sat down on her bed. "Lie down on your pillow." Nope. Into my arms again. Held on for dear life. To my ponytail.

She fell asleep like that and I laid her on her pillow. I put up the gate and went downstairs. whew, I thought. Within seconds she woke up and ran to the gate. And nearly pushed it down.

So I brought her downstairs where she fell asleep watching Gilmore Girls.

The following nights we went straight to Gilmore Girls.

Middle of the night. I went to her the first night and did the same routine of staying with her and holding her till she fell asleep. But she woke up again every time right away. After 45 minutes it was Air's turn. Says me. He held her, she fell asleep in 2 minutes, and he put her in her bed where she slept until 8 AM. Guess who was crowned "Back to Sleep King"? Yes, Air was now in charge of putting our borrowed princess back to sleep for the duration of her visit.

Fast forward to Night Four. In the wee hours of this morning, we heard crying again. I woke up Air and he reluctantly sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked around the room, confused. I started to hear N, who is almost 6 and was sharing her room with our niece, saying, "A, please be quiet. Please go back to sleep." I was surprised she didn't think to call us. Meanwhile Air is out of bed, and for the next agonizing and slow 4 minutes, he put on various clothes after searching for them, went to the bathroom. Looked around again. All the while she's still crying, N is still whining, and I am sitting there just shaking my head. Then Air took a long guzzle of water. "That it. This is just too much. GO GET HER. She's going to wake up the whole house!" Eventually he got her, and put her back to sleep.

I just couldn't believe how long it took him.

Here's what I did every morning: A cried, I got her, brought her downstairs and for the next two hours, held her, fed her, changed her, whatever. I did not go to the bathroom. I did not brush my teeth. I only got a shower if my 6 year old was in my room with her, with the door closed. Air's little "play" was spectacular, mind-boggling, and very "guy." I just couldn't believe he took a drink of water. Too much.

Song of the Day

2008-05-21T13:42:00.000-04:00

Ooh we ooh
Ooh wee ooh
In the beginning
God made the land
Then He made the water and creatures, then He made man

He was born with a passion, love and hate
A restless spirit with a need for a mate
But there was somethin' that was missin', somethin' lost
So he came with the answer, here's what it cost

One part love, one part wild
One part lady, one part child
I give you

Women! women! - Lots of pretty women
Men! men! - They can't live without them
Women! women! - Lots of pretty women
Men! men! - They can't live without them

And in the garden, lust began
The animal instinct, the wanton man
She fed him with a hunger, an appetite
And fillin' with emotion he took a bite

It was one part love, one part child
One part lover, one part wild
I give you

[Repeat Chorus]

Skin on skin
Let the love begin
Women!

[guitar solo]

It was one part love, one part wild
One part lover, one part child
A whole lotta fire, a little bit of ice
A whole lotta somethin' you can't sacrifice
I give you

Hair, eyes, skin on skin
Legs - Legs
Thighs - Thighs

What's that spell?
(Spell? what's that spell?)
(What's that spell?)
What's that spell?
(What's that spell?)
(Women, women)
Oh! oh! oh!
Oh! oh! oh!

Women - Women
Women
Callin' every girl
Women women
All around the world
Women - Women!
Women
Oh, we can't live without them
Women women

Seriously...

2008-05-15T15:46:00.001-04:00

Don't you mean you were lucky enough to catch the game?

Seriously....

2008-05-15T14:29:00.002-04:00

I came all the way to Israel, made the biggest move of our lives, and I'm still stuck watching a Detroit hockey game on TV.

Jeez.

A Thousand Words...

2008-05-11T11:57:00.001-04:00

Happy Israel Day!

Birds in Heaven

2008-05-06T12:36:00.003-04:00

Spaghetti died today. Spaghetti was a love bird, and followed her lover into the ground three months after her former lover left this earth. Or really the cage. Since Meatballs is in the earth. And, if the Lion King is to be believed, he is now part of the earth.

In the hours before Spaghetti's death, she laid a single egg. The egg was cracked, and poorly formed. Since Meatballs was dead and we had not frozen any of his bird sperm to impregnate Spaghetti with at a later date, it was a surprise to see the egg. At first I claimed to be the father, but have now denied having a sexual relationship with Spaghetti.

At Meatballs' funeral, which I officiated, I spoke of the love between Meatball and Spaghetti, and how sad the remaining one would be. I joked about how we were sad to bury Spaghetti or Meatballs, not knowing which one was which. The remark generated a ripple of laughter amongst my children, and when I went to speak today shortly before we put dirt over Spaghetti's box, I was asked not to make any jokes.

So I tried not to. Even though the bird was dead.

I did keep referring to Spaghetti as He, when clearly Meatballs was the He in the relationship, and with the arrival of today's egg, it was confirmed that Spaghetti was in fact the surviving bird.

We considered freezing the cracked egg. Who knows, one day, when Cryogenics moves into a more developed stage, Spaghetti's spawn could rejoin us, but since the egg was misshapen and cracked as it was, we did not want to risk freezing a bird and then thawing it out and hatching it and finding out that it was physically or mentally damaged.

So now are birds are flying in heaven. Making noise. And loving death without a cage.

How Much Do I Love Israeli Media?

2008-05-01T10:20:00.001-04:00

"Iran Rattled by Earthquake

(IsraelNN.com) The Islamic Republic received a mild warning from Above Thursday morning in the form of an earthquake measuring 4.7 on the Richter scale. Some 100 Iranians were injured in the quake, which hit the region of Boroujerd, an area approximately 200 miles southwest of Tehran, according to state television."

Priceless...

Sushi Pajamas

2008-05-01T07:00:00.002-04:00

So I get this email this morning containing a story about a grandparent with Alzheimers and about them getting into pajamas. Anyway, it was not an especially funny story, especially if they are your grandparents, and even though it is not my grandparents, I'm not going to get into the specifics or details of the email.

I have really digressed, and I haven't even started yet.

So I read the email, which came to my google address. Google as you gmail users know, includes "relevant" advertising in the pages. Essentially they word scan your email, pick up key words, and then try to put advertising that is relevant to the email.

So I'm looking at the text ads on the right of my screen, which are for Buying Grandma a Gift and some kid's Pajama shop. And I am thinking that it is really not appropriate to put advertising for pajamas in an email that has a pajama story about a grandparent who according to everyone around needs to be put away for her own good.

And then I see an ad on the top of the screen for Sushi Pajamas.

Now, it still isn't all that appropriate, but I am curious what Sushi pajamas are, so i click on the link, which takes me to comfygirl.com. The pajamas look like regular pajamas, kind of reminding me of Joe Boxer pajamas that I used to create ads for when i worked in Kmart's ad agency. Bright colors, different styles, you know what Joe Boxer is so I don't have to tell you.

So I search for Sushi, and have three choices. Sushi pajamas, a sushi drawstring top and pants set, and a sushi capri set. And I click on the Sushi pajamas and think to myself, eh, this whole journey to see these pajamas was not worth the effort.

And at $84, I don't think they are worth the price.

Should we kill them? They're so pretty.

2008-04-22T16:06:00.004-04:00

We spent this morning picking strawberries for Table to Table, an organization that provides food for the poor, before enjoying a picnic lunch and heading to the beach in Netanya. The water, which is normally rough, was as placid as I had ever seen it, and we were able to see the sea bottom clearly.

While we were disappointed at first that we wouldn't have the chance to jump in the waves and fight the surf, we soon found a bunch of interesting seashells, which we normally don't find out on the sand or at the edge of the water. The shells were very pretty, and we collected a few and brought them to Veev, who was enjoying the sun and watching our stuff.

There was only one problem with these beautiful shells - they were still occupied by their original inhabitant. We were still in the water when we realized that there was something in the shell, and my oldest questioned whether or not we should kill these sea creatures. I assured him that God had put them here for us to enjoy, and we should take them out of the water.

And so we did. We were able to see the tracks these animals had left on the bottom of the sea floor, and from the point when we knew they were alive, my oldest would only take the ones that were not moving very far; the ones who looked like they were working down their earned a reprieve.

We put them on the sand next to Veev, after one in her hand brushed her hand as it tried to move. I did not realize that these animals wouldn't die upon contact with the outside atmosphere. I called the boys out of the water, and we watched as these shells tried to scoot their way through the sand and back to the water.

We didn't have much time at the beach; only about 90 minutes, and by the time we were ready to go we had captured eight of these guys. My middlest, who at 8 is the fondest of all living creatures and the child most likely to be a conscientious objector to the practice of human's eating meat, took the two that were still alive and released them back into the water. My oldest was annoyed, because he had found the last two, and besides, as he pointed out, they are probably going to get picked up by someone else anyway, so why shouldn't we keep them.

But as far as i know, those two are safe in their watery atmosphere, while six are dead downstairs. Now we just need to clean them out, and we will have some really nice sea shells.

Day One of the Omer

2008-04-21T00:40:00.002-04:00

My sister in law called last night from the hotel in Tevariah. She was excited to be able to call after only keeping one day, a decision she and husband came to after consultation with their Rav, and reviewing the sources for why some people keep two days and some keep one when visiting Israel.

Keeping the second day of Chag while in Israel has always felt foreign to me, as does Israeli's keeping only a single day when traveling outside Israel. From a logical perspective, and based on the reasons for the original creation of the second day, it makes sense that one should follow the minhag of the place where they are spending their chag. Chutznikim in Israel should keep one day; Israelis in the diaspora should keep two.

But that isn't how it generally works. Admittedly, I have never looked into the sources for why Israelis keep one day when they leave Israel and tourists keep two days in Israel. I have seen, more and more, though, that when tourists come to Israel, they are keeping only one day of chag.

And I think its wrong.

Keeping one day is the privilege of those of us who are fortunate enough to live in Israel. Call it a motivating factor toward Aliyah, not a privilege purchased for a flight and two week hotel stay.

And so I told this to my sister in law when she called.

In retrospect, I was wrong to say it then.

I could have told her beforehand. But my timing was wrong here. They were excited about a big decision that they made, and I should have either said something before or not said anything at all. It was wrong to tell her what I thought minutes after Havdala.

Does everything need a title

2008-04-02T16:48:00.002-04:00

So I am at the gym this morning, doing my regular routine on the elliptical machine. The A's Red Sox game was on TV, but since i did not have control of the TV I could not change the channel to watch the game, so instead I am watching this movie that this old lady put on the screen. Which wasn't so terrible. Except that the sound is of on the TV in the gym so that the crappy music can be blasting as loud as possible, but I digress. Anyway, The problem with watching movies here is that they have subtitles in hebrew, which again, isn't so bad if you can hear the English, so that you can learn some hebrew words but when you don't speak hebrew well and you can't read fast and translate, well, you know, it is tough to know what is going on. Not as tough as watching Dr Phil with subtitles and no talking, because they could be talking about anything, and with a movie, you know basically that someone is aboiut to get killed, because that is the kind of movie they show in the morning on the YES cable system.

Anyway, on to my point. So we are watching this movie, and it is very violent. Lots of people getting killed. And the police come to this house, and they surround it and this fat guy comes to the window and then they cut to another room in the house where this girl is getting out of bed. And she is topless. Which was nice. And they kepp cutting back and forth to her as she walks around the house, with these people in the house with guns, surrounded by people outside of the house with guns, and no one stops to stare at her. She was wearing a black bikini panty. Or is it panties? Since she was only wearing one pair.

Whatever.

Anyway, the fat guy standing by the window gets shot, and the topless girl walks up to the room, and kneels down next to him, and takes his watch off his wrist.

And the whole time she is taking it from him, I am thinking two things to myself. Nice Rack. And Nice Rack. But then I started to wonder where she would hide the watch she stole off the dead guy.

And that's all for now.

Sweeping out the Dust

2008-03-30T06:47:00.002-04:00

Cold showers, allergies are back, and a baseball surprise, today, on Air Time. Stick Around.

Our shower problem started last week. Shabbat, to be exact. The day after purim. We came home from Ranana to find that we had no running water in the house. A quick investigation proved that our neighbors shut off our water after the plastic spigot broke in our back yard, causing water to flood our back porch. We put the plastic spigot back on, used the water, and went to sleep on Saturday night thinking all was well.

And it was. Until Sunday morning, when the spigot came off again. Once again, using some special plumbing tape, I put the plastic spigot back on the pipe, and was satisified that the water was no longer leaking.

Fast forward to sunday night. Coughing up a storm, I came downstairs, looked out back, and found the plastic spigot on the ground again, water rushing again and floowing the back porch.

And again, I turned off the water, drank tea for my cough, watched TV, and went to bed.

We woke up the next morning to find that we had no water or power. Further investigation showed that the power blew at 5:45, when the dude was supposed to kick in. So we called the electric guy, explained what had happened, who told us to call a specialialist. Who told us it could cost up to 3000 NIS, so we called the landlord, who said he would take care of it.

So we had to rely on the dud shemesh. Which worked out great on the day it was sunny and 90 degrees, but since then, we haven't had the kind of sun that could get us enough hot water for everyone to shower. And since I shower last, well, that meant cold showers for me.

But this morning, I felt good enought to go to gym. Which meant, hurray, a super hot shower. It was so good, I almost went twice.

It hasn't been just the cold showers that have had me feeling blue, though. My allergies, which were dormant our first year in Israel, came raging back last week. I thought I was sick, but Doc says nope, just allergies. So I am popping allergy pills and nasal spray in addition to the blood pressure meds that supposedly are keeping me running smoothly.

Spekaing of running smoothly, it was not our oldest, but our middlest, who has shown surprising skills on the diamond. Don't get me wrong. Our oldest has struck out 17 batters in 9 innings, and given up only five runs (2 earned) in the three games he has pitched this year. Did I mention he is hitting .800, with two legit triples, and batting leadoff.

But it is our middlest who has been the family surprise. This past week, in a game against Jerusalem, he went 3 for 4, lowering his average to .875. In the field, he threw out a runner at second from center field, made a great play on a grounder to get the force at third while playing third base, and threw out the batter from second base on a ground ball that he fielded.

I am coaching my Oldest's team this season. So far, we are 2-1, have a good chance to be playing for first place when we face off against Gezer in two weeks. We'll keep you posted. If, and only if, I'm still blogging. Otherwise, you'll have to check the website for standing on your own.

That's it for today. Thanks for reading.

AT

Another Apology to my Eema

2008-01-30T13:19:00.000-05:00

My children stay up too late. Or maybe we just go to sleep earlier now. It just seems like our time downstairs without the kids is getting shorter and shorter every night. I just want them to go to bed already so I could veg by myself or with Air! They come walking in the door in the early afternoon, and by 7:30, I'm done!

My mother used to complain about the same thing, and I was the worst offender - a teen-aged night-owl. I think she actually believed I needed more sleep, but I think she sent me to bed just to be left ALONE!

Once again, sorry, Ee. I get it now.

My Little Israelit

2008-01-16T07:40:00.000-05:00

My five year old started translating from Hebrew to English when she talks to me. Of course in Hebrew it makes grammatical sense...

What is this, at all? מה זה בכלל

I want or that one or this one. או זה או זה

I want also this one and also that one. גם זה וגם זה

Today she asked me what נולדתי means. It means "I was born." And then it occured to me that she knew what it meant. Just didn't know how to say it in English.

Eerie

2008-01-07T11:24:00.000-05:00

My good friend (and my football team's center) Ora's dad died last week in Montreal. His body was flown here for the funeral today. I have been to funerals in Israel before. In fact her dad was buried in Eretz HaChaim where my Bubby was laid to rest this past July. The funeral was called for 4:15 this afternoon. Of course there was a slight delay because of the flight, etc. and it wasn't until 4:45 that the eulogies started. As the burial went on later, the sun was setting which was very beautiful. I took leave of my football team who all turned out for the occasion and walked over to where my Bubby is buried for a little quality time with her. By the time I left the cemetary it was good and dark out.

I turned on the radio in my car on my way out and wouldn't you know it? "Thriller" by Michael Jackson was on. Although it is one of my favorite songs, I turned it off.

Non-Kosher Meat

2007-12-28T03:16:00.000-05:00

It's taken me some time to process something I heard a few weeks ago. But now I feel I must address it. It has come to my attention that there are several members of the Orthodox communtity in Detroit who no longer trust Lubavitch Shechita (i.e. Aarons Rubashkin meat). The reasoning I heard had to do with the distrust of those who are "Yechi-niks", or those who believe in the ressurection of the Rebbe, ZTz"L. They say that if they believe in these concepts, then Chabadniks are Ovdei Avodah Zara and connot be truted for Halachic issues such as Shechita.

My experience with Chabad goes back much farther than my own life. My father was Mitkarev by Rabbi Bobroyski, a tzaddik who live in Passaic and taught young children about Hashem and beautiful Yiddishkeit. He was gentle and loving and inbued a Halachic Judaism my father and his "off-the-derech" parents could handle. Even taking a quick glance at our clan, we all have a lot to thank "Rabbi Bob" and Chabad for, Baruch Hashem.

My roommate at Bar Ilan was Lubavitch, albeit slightly more "modern" than the Rebbe. He was still alive then, and I started dreaming of the time of Mashiach, with him as our savior. When he died, I believe I was more devestated than my roommate was. Not because I need HIM to be the Mashiach, but because I wanted SOMEONE to be and thought we had him.

Rav Menachem Mendel Schneerson did so much good in this world of ours. It's a shame how some of the extremists of his devout followers have made a national joke of his memory. It's important to remember that every sect has its extremists, and it's wrong to judge an entire section of Judaim only on those on the edge.

That doesn't mean we should sit by and watch an Aveira happen either. We send our daughter to a Chabad Gan here in Modiin. Last year I insisted upon sending her to the Chabad Gan for four-year-olds as well. When I arrived with my little girl to orientation last year, I asked the teacher if there was a lot of talk about the Rebbe in Gan. She said, "Of course. We teach the 12 Psukim and we talk about the important dates of Chabad." I hesitated and said, "OK." She said she could tell there was something else I wanted to know. I said, "Do you say that he's still alive?" She smiled, "We don't say in the Gan that he's still alive." Hmmm.

What does she personally believe? I really couldn't care less. Even if she is Yechi-nik, as long as she doesn't impart that kind of belief on my kid, it doesn't matter to me. The whole reason I wanted to send our daughter to that particular Gan was because it was Lubavitch. Chabadniks are known as the most welcoming, loving, accepting Gannanot in the country. In fact, the student body in the religious Gan my daughter goes to is two-thirds Chiloni. The population in Maccabim, the non-religious neighborhood where the Gan is, had become aware of the philosophy of the Kindergarten. And they want to get onboard. In an religious Gan!! It gives one nothing short of hope for the same kind of education my father's family received 50 years ago.

Take a look at this website. You will no longer think that Lubavitchers lack Halachic Judaism. And you will go back to buying their meat.

It says that there are ten basic Jewish Mitzvot to focus on. I LOVE that the first one is Tzedaka.

http://www.chabad.org/library/howto/wizard_cdo/aid/142434/jewish/Introduction.htm

What Should I Eat?

2007-12-20T08:34:00.000-05:00

Unless there's soup or pasta in the fridge, I'm completely at a loss in the winter.

Why Are All My Posts About Bathroom Themes?

2007-12-17T11:00:00.000-05:00

I am going to turn off commenting for this one because of its sensitive nature.

My daughter was up for an hour in the middle of the night complaining of pain in her "privates," as she calls it. I called the doctor's office early this morning to see if there's a magic potion to alleviate this problem, so we can all get some sleep. When the secretary picked up, I realized I had no idea how to say the word in Hebrew. I hemmed and hawed and had no idea how to even describe it nicely. She said to come right in as, based on my obviously poor description, she thought it was appendicitis.

When it was our turn, I told my daughter to point to where it hurts. And then, embarassed, I laughed and said I had no idea how to say the word in Hebrew. He still thought it was her appendix and started poking around in her abdomen. I said, "No, not there..."

The secretary was in the room because she wanted to finally know what I was talking about. My little girl pointed to the painful spot.

"Ahhhhh, Ko'ev La BaPIPI!!"

Now is that the medical term?

Like Old Times?

2007-12-15T11:36:00.000-05:00

Yesterday we got a phone call from one of our dearest friends, BA. He and his wife were going to be in the area with their kids and wanted to know if we could hang out at the park with them. we went, and it was a tad surreal.

BA used to be a party-guy. Complete with drinking and then yelling at passing cars. One morning at 8 a.m., I helped him save himself and a pair of his grandfather's T'fillin, both lost during a night of boozing.

Yesterday, he was using an authoritative voice with his kids, who actually responded. Wow. I guess we all must have grown up somewhere along the way.

He told me his father, who we had the privilege to meet at BA's Aufruf 10 years ago, has cancer. I don't know his name for Tehillim, but I wish him a Refuah Shelaima.

Funny Story - Goes Back a Ways

2007-12-13T13:18:00.000-05:00

When I cook and wash dishes, I always have tons of time to think by myself, and sometimes I remember random things from my past. A few months ago we watched our wedding video in honor of our anniversary. I saw something my mother did that cracked me up.

At every Chupah at which I have ever had the privilege of sitting next my mother, she has said the following to me at the line of the Ketuba-reading where it mentions that the Kallah is a "B'tultedah":

"What if she isn't? Does she tell the person who writes and reads the Ketubah?" It doesn't even matter who it is. The Kallah could have the most stellar reputation. She doesn't mean the person whose wedding it happens to be; rather, it's a general question. It's really a joke designed to make the listener laugh at the most boring part of a wedding.

Flash to my wedding. My mother didn't realize that the videographer was pointing the camera at my folks at the reading of "Aviva Deena B'tultedah." My mother leaned in to tell my father her joke, noticed the video camera on her and stopped dead in her tracks.

Any casual watcher of this video could think that my Eema knew something no one else did. I'm sure there were tongues wagging anyway at that particular stage of our lives for various reasons, but... no. I wore a white gown with a full heart.

One of my Identical Twin Nieces - Sari's Kid - Update

2007-12-11T12:10:00.001-05:00

She went home, and is well, Baruch Hashem. Of course if I were her mother, I'd never sleep again.

My Name is Veev and I'm an Addict

2007-12-09T10:11:00.000-05:00

Everyone: Hiiii Veeeev.

I drove on Road Six for the second and third time today. Holy cow! It's like driving on Route 80! The speed is quick, there is no traffic, and the road is beautiful and straight. There are rest stops along the way, too. Although it does drive dangerously close to several of our neighbors' villages and major cities, remember that my usual way to Yerushalayim passes Ramallah on the left.

I can't image driving on any other road if I can take the Six. (Do they make a patch for this?)

Don't Make any Sudden Movements

2007-12-08T16:01:00.000-05:00

I was subbing at an elementary school the other day when a second grader came up to my desk and asked me permission, in Hebrew, to "_________" (can't remember the word). I asked him to repeat it, and he did. Then I said, in Hebrew, "I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're asking."

"A-ni Ro-tzeh La-a-sot Ka-ki," he said ve-ry slow-ly for those in the cheap seats. Where I was sitting the whole day.

One of my Identical Twin Nieces - Sari's Kid

2007-12-07T05:16:00.000-05:00

Please say Tehillim for three-week-old Noa Bat Sara Esther. After she had a bath, she was waiting in her crib for her bottle, and was found not breathing a few minutes later. Baruch Hashem, she was revived by her mother, but is in the hospital going through a battery of tests including a spinal tap. They suspect a SIDS episode.

Please Excuse my Hebrew

2007-12-06T09:39:00.000-05:00

היום נסעתי עם שני הילדים הקטנים שלי עם בית הכנסת שלנו לגוש עציון. לדעתי היא המקום הכי "ישראלי" בארצינו הקדושה. המורה דרך שלנו הוא תושב בת עין ומאוד חיצוני בעניני פוליטיקה. הוא ואשתו הכניסו אותנו לביתם הגדולה ופשוטה. הם הביאו תה לחמם את ליבינו ואפילו הכינו לנו פיתות טריות במטבח. ראינו את המכונה שבה טוחנים/(מטחנים?) את החיטה לקמח מלא. קניתי משם קמח מלא אורגני.

Sem Girls

2007-12-01T18:32:00.000-05:00

We had two seminary girls over for Shabbos, which is always good for some eye-rolling entertainment. Here's some advice for the next phase in ther lives...

1. Find the "who" you are looking for, not the "what." A list is lovely, but you'll find that no one is what they are on paper.

2. Find the person who you can tolerate telling you the truth.

3. Find the person who gets you completely.

4. Make sure he comes from good stock.

5. Find the guy who's going to support you, no matter what, but still is able to tell you when you're nuts.

That's it. Good luck.

For Mrs. Fleischer

2007-11-28T16:13:00.000-05:00

I became a creative writing teacher today. The last teacher who loved me and thought I had potential was Mrs. Fleischer in 3rd and 5th Grade. She always expected me to become a writer. (Aren't I? Don't I blog?) And now I get to teach kids how to be creative and think outside the box.

It's not like I've never taught before. I taught preschool for three years, and high school math for a year; then I taught elementary school Judaic Studies for seven years. I have experience.

Today was a first, though. I introduced myself as "Aviva." It was really weird, but I'll get used to it. It wasn't so bad as my kids have been telling their friends my name since we arrived in Israel. And they think it's a hoot!

But I digress.

One of the assignments I gave today was to explain how an animal of choice came to look like he does today. I told a story of the "Copycat" assignment I had in Third Grade. Explain how the squirrel got such a bushy tail... I wrote that she went to the beauty shop and sat with the rollers under the hair dryer for too long. I got an A+ and a sticker for that one.

I think I heard that Mrs. Fleischer isn't teaching anymore. It's a shame. I'd really like to find her and let her know how I turned out.

My Morning

2007-11-25T07:15:00.000-05:00

This morning I had an appointment with D. at the eye doctor for his double-vision. We were there for about an hour and a half before we were even seen. While we were waiting for the doctor to call us some kids were throwing a soft ball around the room. My phone rang and I reached into my jacket pocket to get it. At that very moment, the ball hit me in the head, knocking off my head-covering completely. My phone was still ringing, so everyone saw it happen. I simultaneously answered the phone and shoved my mitpachat back on.

Quite a scene...

I LOVE ARCHIVES

2007-11-18T13:22:00.000-05:00

I was looking through some archives of a family blog and found the proof I was looking for.

Hahahahahaha, Sucka!!

Sorry, I can't say any more than that.

Forward from my Father

2007-11-08T13:58:00.000-05:00

"A recent study found the average American walks about 900 miles per year. Another study found Americans drink, on average, 22 gallons of beer a year.

That means, on average, Americans get about 41 miles to the gallon.

Kind Of Makes You Proud To Be American."

Hoopla!

2007-10-31T15:21:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow, so many family members are arriving in Israel for my sister-in-law's wedding. It's going to be nuts because there are lots of kids who will not have slept for a whole day. There are, Thank God, 15 all together under the age of 11.

I baked A LOT for Shabbos in Maalot, and you should be delighted to know that Air and I tasted the goods, and they are.

Why?

2007-10-31T08:18:00.000-04:00

Does something always spill all over the oven the day after I clean it?

Rechovot Police Station

2007-10-29T15:40:00.000-04:00

Today Air and I went to the police station for traffic cases in our area, which is kinda like a county of Israel. They had sent us our third request to come and give our witness statements about our car accident. After the third one, it sank in to my brain, and I called the phone number written on the paper. Over and over and over. But there was no answer. Eventually they called US and told us to come this week, any day between the hours of 7:00 and 15:30. Air worked overnight last night and didn't need to go in today, so we went this morning. As we arrived at the station, EVERYONE went to lunch for half an hour. Everyone. In the whole department.

After much yelling at the secretary, to no avail, by the way, we were told to "calm down" and that they would be back "any minute". I told her I was tired of "calming down". I told her I was calm before I had to deal with Israeli bureaucracy, no customer service, and rude government employees who barely give us the time of day. I told her I was sick of arriving at a doctor's office and being told by the receptionist to "go right in" and have the doctor yell at me for going in to his office, and then at another doctor's office to wait and be yelled at when they find me sitting there not having "gone right in". I am tired of teaching my kids to hit back in school and to forget about their manners in line at the amusement park and candy store, or they won't get a turn. I told her that I am an Olah Chadasha, I was in a car accident, and demand to see someone - anyone - RIGHT NOW. She told us to have a seat.

While we waited for Israel's finest to masticate and digest, I had to rearrange my carpool day and find a playdate for the Princess.

Air and I had to give our statements separately because we were both witnesses, so I was not allowed to translate for Air. Our officer didn't speak any English, and spoke Hebrew too fast and incoherently to an untrained ear. I gave my statement first and then Air was interviewed by an officer who (shouting) spoke a little English. All in all, a yucky day.

Art

2007-10-25T15:21:00.000-04:00

Don't tell the Princess that I told you, but as I was sitting down on her bed to read her a story at bedtime, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a beautiful hand-drawn picture of a little girl on her wall. Yes, on her wall. Not taped to her wall, drawn ONTO her wall. Oy.

Good thing for her I don't hit. I did make her cry when I said, "I am very angry with you right now, and I don't feel like reading to you anymore tonight. And tomorrow you will wash this off during your playtime." About 10 minutes later she came downstairs still sniffling and said, "I'm sorry, Mommy."

Kids, what are ya gonna do?.... At least it's in pencil.

Opening Night - Next Day

2007-10-18T09:47:00.000-04:00

Well, I did wear my bloody T-shirt, but they had our new jerseys ready last night, so I changed. Someone new was wearing my number, so I asked if we could trade shirts. She said it was no big deal. It was definitely nice to not be the new guy, just like it was nice at all the Asifot Horim (school orientations) this year. I knew what was happening, am not afraid to run the wrong way, and can now take criticism. Unfortunately, I was unable to catch a completion at all last night. Perhaps I'm having a psychological reaction to catching the ball with my face in my last game of last season. I play tight end, but I'm actually ready to run longer plays now that I'm walking most mornings.

If ever you're around on Wednesday nights, give me a call, and I'll tell you what time to come watch the "Mama's".

Veev #5

Opening Night

2007-10-17T09:48:00.000-04:00

I think I have to wear my jersey from last season again tonight. Only problem is, it still has the blood stain on it from catching the first-down pass with my nose. It's a red jersey so I'll wear it anyway, just don't tell my Eema.

Go to Gan!

2007-10-15T12:31:00.000-04:00

This morning I was waiting for my water bottle to get cold in the freezer and my i-pod to charge for my morning walk, so I let my little girl watch a little "Hop" TV for kids. It has educational programming in Hebrew, which I love that she watches.

At eight o'clock, the time we were going to leave, the PSA of the network, which was also cute cartoon-style, announced to the little viewers:

"It's eight o'clock,! It's time to turn off the TV and go to Gan!"

Chuckle...

If You Can't Fix It, You Gotta Stand It

2007-09-11T15:50:00.000-04:00

Shana Tovah to all!

Don't Have A Cow, Man

2007-08-30T16:29:00.000-04:00

We ate at the most amazing restaurant tonight. The children were brought shots of orange juice when the adults were brought little shots of wine. Yet the waitress didn't think we'd be needing the kids' menu. Go figure...

We had a side of beef and the children's fries, and lip-smackin' marinated chicken wings.

Thanks, Mom and Dad. You can visit anytime.

P.S. In case you were wondering, it was El Gaucho's in Ramat Gan/Bnei Brak.

The Flight

2007-08-27T09:10:00.001-04:00

Let me start by saying that our ELAL plane was the coolest thing 37,000 feet up. It had seats that, when the seat backs leaned back, the seats shifted forward. There were also footrests that were adjustable. The luggage is stored in the overhead compartment doors which come down for easier access. The food trays were half the width (front to back) and adjustable.

The bathrooms were brand-new, the galleys were properly laid-out, and the premium sections were AMAZING!

The communal TV screens are hi-def wide-screens. The individual screens are also wide-screen and feature 12 movies that begin on demand. They can be paused, rewound, fast forwarded, and stopped mid-scene. The movies can be watched in at least 2 languages, and a few were child-appropriate. There are hundreds of song choices in every genre, including Jewish music. These can also be paused, rewound, fast forwarded, and stopped. There are a dozen games to play onscreen including backgammon, freecell, chess, tetris, and tennis. You can make world-wide phone calls for $2/minute (much like we used to from our home phones 20 years ago). You can call from seat to seat for free or play games with another passenger (although F and I had trouble getting this feature to work). In the corner of every screen, you can see the time at your destination and how much time until landing. Most of the time the pull-out phone/computer is used, but to get to the feature you want, it is a touch-screen.

Kept the kids (and me) busy for hours. Which is probably why we didn't sleep.

We're Finally Home

2007-08-27T03:59:00.000-04:00

Jet-lag notwithstanding, our homecoming was uneventful and a relief. We ate Friday night dinner cooked by Air, and looked through some inherited old photgraphs. We all slipped into sleep early and woke up at our regular Shabbos times; I went back to sleep until 11. After a very noisy lunch at a close friend's house, the children had playdates and Air and I both napped. When I woke up at Mincha time, both boys were sleeping on the couch and could not be awakened. When Air came home for Seudah Shlishit, he walked them upstairs where they slept until 4 and five the next morning. Our five year old came home after Shabbat and went to sleep right away. She also woke up at 5.

I was up the whole night and fell asleep at 7 am when Air woke up. I slept until 1 PM. We all went to bed at normal times last night and woke up at decent times this morning. I still feel like I've been run over by a tractor-trailer, but I think the end of jet-lag is in sight.

Oops...

2007-08-16T01:38:00.000-04:00

When we got back the Tefillin, we found out that the Shel Rosh which was Pasul was actually Air's, and not my fathers.

It was cool while it lasted.

Happy Wedding to Moshe

2007-08-15T09:21:00.000-04:00

Coincidence?

2007-08-14T22:51:00.000-04:00

All the Mezuzot were checked this week; in addition, all the Tefillin in the family were checked. The only Klafim that are Pasul are my younger sister's Mezuzah and one from my father's Tefillin...

Wait for it...

Shel Rosh.

My Father is Doing Better

2007-08-13T10:37:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I needed directions to Cedarhurst, and I asked my Abba to provide them for me. He did great!! I got all the way there on his directions, and every time I saw the sign for the next highway that was written on the post-it note, I smiled ear to ear.

Baruch Hashem.

Happy Birthday to Me

2007-08-08T14:13:00.000-04:00

I turned double-threes today.

I actually remember my third birthday party. I was at camp Massad in the Poconos with my family. My father was the director then; my mother was the camp mother and was expecting a baby soon. We were outside at a picnic table and when they brought out the cake that Bilha had made for me, they sang Happy Birthday to me. I remember being very embarassed and shy at that moment. I hid under the table.

I'm sure that morning I got to sing Birkat Hamazon on the microphone for all 300 people in the Chadar Ochel, and wasn't embarassed in the least. I liked (and still like) to be in control of when and how I get attention.

The funny thing is I don't remember my sister's birth, three days later, at all. But legend has it that I got so upset I ran up a fever of 104 with no other symptoms. See? Attention....my way.

What the Hell?...

2007-08-05T20:51:00.000-04:00

This is not turning out the way we had planned our month in Chu"l. My Abba had a small (not mini) stroke. And we're in Michigan. The truth is that Hashem, in His infinite greatness, wisdom, and sensitivity, has always created a situation for me where I don't have to see people at their worst.

When my mother fell down 13 stairs at work, I couldn't get to New Jersey.
When my grandpa had 4 heart attacks in 2 weeks, I couldn't get to Florida.
When my Bubby had triple-bypass, I couldn't get to New York.
When the same Bubby was dying a painful death, I had already made Aliyah, and was on my way for a visit, but missed seeing her by a week.

And now my strong, brilliant Abba couldn't remember the word "fingers" today. When I spoke to him, he sounded like he was drunk. Not that I've ever seen him drunk.

And when I get there on Friday, he better be pissed that I posted our private family stuff on the blog.

Shout Out 2

2007-08-01T09:25:00.000-04:00

I was standing in line with my "sistas" and N.R. walked into Dunkin Donuts. I haven't seen him in a year and was delighted he came in. He asked me how things were going and I asked him when he and his family would be joining us in Israel. Then he said that he saw the picture of the accident. I asked how he saw it.

"I read your blog." Oh, lord. Another one.

Good Morning from Michigan

2007-07-31T09:43:00.000-04:00

Dunkin Donuts for brunch... :)

Yellow Suitcase

2007-07-29T16:23:00.000-04:00

Now that my mother has gotten up from Shiva, I went with my parents today to clean out my Bubby's apartment. We were there for 4 hours and cleaned out one bedroom, the bathroom, the coat closet, and half the kitchen. It was so strange rifling through and tossing my Bubby's stuff that she's collected over so many decades. She was saving things. For what, I have no idea. Maybe she thought there would be a plastic shortage one day, and that's why she needed 700 plastic bags.

We didn't even get to the fun stuff today - old pictures, letters - but I did find my mother's report card from 11th Grade, a coat I remember my Bubby wearing in the winters, and a yellow 70's-print suitcase she used to come off the bus with and carry to our house when she came for Shabbos. I'm not even sure the younger kids remember it at all.

To my siblings: The suitcase is still in good condition, and I CALL IT! I also call 2 cookie cutters, the matchboxes I rescued from the kitchen drawer, and the blue cigarette box and lighter I made Abba put in the "keep" box. There is still so much to look through, though, and I'm sure you'll find tons of stuff, too. The End.

Air is the Sane One as Usual

2007-07-24T12:13:00.001-04:00

Today I was feeling angry, and my sister who is visiting reminded me (scolded really) that the reason we don't have our precious Beit HaMikdash is because of the Sin'at Chinam of our and previous generations. She told me that if we continue to hate, we'll be sitting on the floor next Tisha B'Av again instead of watching a parade in Yerushalayim. While I take issue with the word "Chinam" in this particular case, and even "Sin'ah" isn't quite right here, I was calmed by simple guilt.

After many hours of fasting and being VERY bored, I told Air I was angry, too. He didn't toss me the Beit HaMikdash card. He simply told me to forget it. The person is irrelevant, and so why should I feel anything at all?

I wish I could arrive at blissful indifference already. It's taking too long.

The car was totaled, and we're getting a new one

2007-07-22T15:12:00.000-04:00

A picture says a thousand words

2007-07-18T09:43:00.000-04:00

I was in the passenger seat so I took most of the impact. Air has a line of blue across his belly where the seatbelt hit him. And his neck hurts. The kids have welts on their shoulders where their seatbelts were, Thank God. And I am purple everywhere my seatbelt touched, plus my knee which hit the front of the car. The airbags worked and felt like pillow. And we all walked (I ran holding my five-year-old) away from the crash. We were rushed by ambulance to the nearest hospital where my aunt met us and took care of us. The doctors were great and we were released within 3 hours.

Just for your info, Air was not at fault. We had a green and the cross-street's light wasn't working. The other driver just kept going and ended up in front of us suddenly. We hit her broadside on her passenger side. She also walked away from the scene.

By the way, this was at 6:30 a.m. on our way back from the airport where D and I arrived from Prague.

One, Two, Three, Pazatzta!!

2007-07-14T17:27:00.000-04:00

One of the fantastic fathers who is traveling with us riled up the kids in between a double-header which began with a disappointing loss. After this relay race, they were feeling better about themselves and not thinking too much about the first round of cursing and screaming that some of the psychotic parents did at their coaches after the first game. After the second round of screaming and cursing, however, nothing could get the kids calmed down or to stop crying until one of the funnier kids started passing gas on the bus-ride back to the dorm. Always a winner among preteen-aged boys.

(I know, I know, there's more to the story. Give me some time to finish digesting what happened...)

Who Shops Here?

2007-07-09T18:20:00.000-04:00

What kind of idiot would buy jewelry from a place that admits what they think of their customers?

Having a good time, ya'll. Will update another time. I'm just too tired.

Next Stop, Czech Republic

2007-07-07T16:36:00.000-04:00

My kid is going to the Czech Republic tonight. Back in March, he tried out for the national little league team. He made the first cut, and was invited to a mini camp. He made the cut there, and was one of 20 kids to be selected to the team.

Of those 20, 15 were supposed to be selected to make the travel team. Again, my oldest made the cut. As time went on, he cracked the starting lineup, and now, he is the starting catcher on his team.

Over the past few months, he has attended numerous practices. In addition, he had his own local team to play on, All Star team games, and over the past week, he has spent five hours a day at baseball camp, practicing and working on his game.

And so tonight, he is off. Together with Veev, he will go have the time of his life. For the next week, he is an emmisary of Israel. He has the chance to go out and meet kids from Central Europe, and show them what Israeli kids are really like. He'll stand tall at the singing of HaTikvah, and then play his hardest to try and help his country win as many games as they can in this tournament.

Highlights at eleven.

From our Listserve....

2007-07-05T12:35:00.000-04:00

"We received a call from the police last night asking whether we were the owners of a small bag that had the name 'B.P.' on it, that was discovered in Yigal Yadin Street. We don't know any 'B.P.' in Modi'in (do I have a long-lost relative in the area?!) so it seems that the bag was treated as a suspect package and dealt with accordingly. Does anyone know of a 'B.P' or did anyone drop a gift on Yigal Yadin that was meant for us (we had a brit milah celebration yesterday)? In any case, I'm sorry to say that the bag was on the receiving end of a controlled explosion. S.P."

Dear Readers,

Welcome to Israel. Don't leave your stuff outside unattended.

Veev

Last Day

2007-06-29T01:22:00.001-04:00

In Detroit the last day of school used to mean so much more to me. I was a teacher there, for one thing, and I was mixed up with the feeling of "WHOOOHOOO! SUMMER VACATION", and the feeling of "Did I accomplish what I wanted with a class that I only have the privilege of teaching for 180 days of their lives?"

And then there's - what are my kids going to do during the in-between week before camp starts? How much TV are they going too watch? How many times can I take them to Ceasarland before I go nuts?

This year it's different. School ends today, the last possible day in June, as is traditional in the public elementary schools here. Camp starts already on Sunday, so there's no in-between time. Also, camp is for the same amount of time every day, or longer, in some cases, so there's no empty space to fill. There's no homework during the summer, though, and there's no camp on Fridays. So that's good.

Why Couldn't I Sleep?

2007-06-25T04:08:00.000-04:00

Last night I only fell asleep at 4 a.m. Why, you ask?

There are several possibilities:

1. I inadvertently had caffeine in the morning and my heart was still racing.
2. Air watched 8 Mile last night and I was in the room with him. The violence of the movie and the beat of "Lose Yourself" make me nervous.
3. My baby brother's engagement party was last night and I missed it. I can hardly even picture where it was held.
4. I suddenly realized that I'm going to have my own room in a strange hotel in the Czech Republic for eight nights. While that sounded like a fun idea at the onset, now I'm thinking, not so much.
5. Need $$, have only $.
6. I'm in the process of choosing a surgeon - yes, a surgeon! - to remove our five year old's adenoids. With a knife!
7. The Pizza Shul might have been bombed had our glorious Shin-Bet not stepped in.
8. When we go to Detroit this summer, are my kids going to want to come back home?
9. Air's good friend's dad passed away last week. Too close to home.
10. Air and I walked last night starting at 10 p.m. Not good for getting to sleep on time.

I think that's all for now. Thanks for the group-therapy.

Watch the game!

2007-06-19T07:56:00.000-04:00

The inaugural Israel Baseball League Opening day game will be broadcast on PBS July 1st, 11:00 and 4:30. Don't know whether that's AM or PM, or if it will be everywhere or just NY area.

Whoohoo!

2007-06-17T08:49:00.001-04:00

After 3-4 weeks of walking 40 minutes, 3-4 times a week, and counting points (usually), I am now down to the weight I was after my oldest was born and nursed for half a year. Oh well. I started Weight Watchers then and lost 20 pounds to get to my goal weight which was my wedding weight. I have lost 8 pounds now and I have 20 to go.

I hope the seamstress can keep taking in my gown!

Only in Israel?

2007-06-11T13:06:00.000-04:00

I took our new car to the car wash today because it's free with the lease. The guy who's responsible to spray the strawberry stuff in the car was wearing a white Detroit Tigers hat. One of those white-on-white D hats. Since it's not unusual to see random teams' hats, shirts, and jerseys here, I asked him in Hebrew (a little smugly, actually) if he's ever been to Detroit. He answered me in English that he didn't speak Hebrew. Hmmm..

"Ever been to Detroit?" I asked him.

"Born and bred," he said with a smile.

"ME TOO!!!!" OK, that's not REALLY true... "What part?" I asked him.

"Dearborn." Ohhhhh. OK, then.

B'Kitzur, he speaks Arabic, English, and a pretty good Russian because of his sister-in-law, and he moved here for a better life. Apparently life isn't as rosy in Detroit as it is in Oak Park. He told me point-blank that life is so much more peaceful here than it was back home.

Interesting. I guess he hasn't wandered into downtown Sderot lately.

Bloody, Bloody Wednesday

2007-06-07T13:04:00.000-04:00

Last night was our final game of the season in flag football, and we had a great time! I'll paint you a scenario, though, of an event that changed my life forever:

Two minutes left in the game against the defensewomen of the national team, and we were already black and blue. These girls know how to put the "contact" into "non-contact" sports. They aren''t allowed to use their hands to defend against us, but they have no qualms whatsoever using the rest of their bodies to slam into us any chance they get. Have I mentioned that these girls are about 17 years old and 9 feet tall?

I posted right (Eema, that means I run diagonally towards the lamppost on the right) and buttonhooked (that means I turn halfway around so I'm looking directly at my quarterback). And I made the catch for the first down, which is good because we were already at fourth down (sorry, Eem, ask Ab to explain the rest of this...) WITH MY FACE! And my hands. That's right, the torpedoed football landed right on the top of my nose! I caught the ball, dropped it (no fumbles in flag football), and dropped to my knees with stinging eyes and nose. Thankfully, our wide receiver is also an ER nurse at Shaarei Tzedek. Not only did she medically know what to do, she also knows how to calm someone down who is having her FIRST nosebleed. I do recall asking my team, through my tears, if they were enjoying their official time-out. With my first down we had a chance for the touchdown, and this was a much-needed break. The only thing I wanted to do was to keep playing, but it wasn't meant to be. The two minutes ran out before I could get back on the field.

Ah, there's always next season.

Mystery

2007-06-06T08:38:00.000-04:00

This morning I found a small white cloth with some spices in it, held together by a red piece of yarn in my daughter's room. I asked her about it, and she told me she didn't know where it came from, it was just on her bed last night when she went to sleep.

Interesting to note that there were several strangers our house yesterday evening, as it was said daughter's birthday party. Any ideas?

I Have a Lot to Say - First Installment

2007-06-05T13:53:00.000-04:00

I have been biding my time for the past three weeks and not bothering to post because what is on my mind and what I was allowed to blog about were not the same.

My brother got engaged last night, and I am absolutely thrilled. I spoke to the Kallah for the first time at 1:15 a.m. when I got the call, and I think we need more time to get to know each other. She seems lovely and the pictures of her show a pretty, kind young woman. Here's what I know:

She's smart.
She's quiet.
She's nice to my brother.
She's mature (read: older than said brother, which is good, by the way).
She's from a normal family.
She works in a clothing store as a manager or buyer, not sure.
She actually WANTS to live in Passaic.
She wants me to wear silver or grey at her wedding.
Her ring is stunning.
She likes my family.

Welcome, Sista! Now you're one of us, God help you.