Tuesday, October 23, 2018

Zero to Hero (in 45 seconds)

A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.
-Christopher Reeve

A week ago, Beer Sheva was once again targeted by the terrorist organization/government Hamas, rulers of Gaza. There have been clashes/altercations/skirmishes/battles at the Gaza border for months and months now, with half of the northern Negev burnt to a crisp by terrorist fires. The situation is insane, to say the least.
Last week, however, Hamas took the situation to a new level by firing a new and improved Grad missile on a city of over 210,000 people. Because this is Israel, and the government has spent millions protecting its citizens, a siren went off at 3:41 AM, warning over 350,000 Negev inhabitants of an incoming strike. The Grad hit a house that belonged to a single mother and her three young sons. The mother, awakened by the siren, grabbed her sons one by one, and raced to the safe room, closing the door seconds before the missile hit. They were unhurt, but their house was destroyed.

The nation of Israel  while incensed that, again, Hamas is firing missiles at a civilian population  rejoiced that this mother of Israel and her sons were saved.

Without question, this mother is a hero.



And so is my young friend, mother of three babies, who woke from her hard-earned sleep, gathered them up and raced to the safe room. Luckily, her house was not hit.

So is my 60-year old friend, who woke up her 25 year old son, already traumatized from army experiences and battling his own demons, wrestled him out of the apartment and down a flight of stairs to the shelter in the basement of the building. Their building wasn't hit either.

And my other friend, who, without a safe room or a shelter, ran out of her apartment in her jammies, into the stairwell of her building, and waited for the boom with all the other neighbors who were in their jammies.

Or my friends without safe rooms or shelters or stairwells, who gather up all their family members in 45 seconds in the middle of the night and find a room without windows (a hallway, under stairs, the bathroom) and huddle there. They are heroes, too.
As are all the other 350,000 people I don't know who do the same.

Luckily, miraculously, their houses weren't hit.

I'm going to include all those people who didn't sleep again after the boom echoed throughout the city, yet got up the next morning and went to work, or went to school, or went to the shops, or raced around arranging donations to the family who had lost everything. because that's what they do, thanking God that this time their houses weren't destroyed. They carried on.

And all those people who lay awake and wondered if their sons, or husband, or brothers, or fathers, or cousins, or neighbors, were going to be called up, again, to defend our Land and our People; wondering when it's going to stop, knowing that it's not. They are definitely heroes.

And the thousands and thousands of Negev residents, living closer the Gaza, who have been living this way for over 15 years, who deal with stress, shock, trauma, fear, and sleepless nights on a daily basis, and are still here. They are truly heroes.

Here in Israel, we have lots of heroes who dress up as heroes: our soldiers and our firefighters for example.

But there are all those other heroes, who we see every day: in the shops picking out bananas, and in the streets taking up three parking spots, and at work talking on the phone - checking up on their kids, on their parents, on their neighbors, making sure everyone is ok.

All those sleepless, capeless heroes.
Dressed up as ordinary people.






 








Wednesday, October 3, 2018

Grumpy is as Grumpy Does

...I will survive
Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive
I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give
And I'll survive, I will survive, I will survive
-Gloria Gaynor

I don't know exactly what it is, but the yearly 'chagim' season has become harder and harder for me to handle. I suppose one of the reasons is that I'm older now, and much much grumpier than I used to be. 
Hard to imagine, I know.

I made a list of the things that bug me (I like lists).
  1. Supermarkets, throughout September, hike up their prices on staples such as potatoes and lettuce. 
  2. Supermarkets run out of eggs and carrots. 
  3. Supermarkets turn into circuses with crazy people running around looking for cheap potatoes and eggs. 
  4. My house is full of people who want to be fed, constantly.
  5. For some reason, the house is also full of Lego pieces that arrange themselves so that I step on them (in my bare feet) no matter how many times I pick them up and put them away. 
  6. It's hot.
  7. Shabbat, Chag, Shabbat, Chag.   Shabbat, Chag.
  8. I never know what day it is.  
  9. But it's always shopping day. Or cooking day. Or both.

    10. I hate cooking.


Just because I've been blessed to live in a country where the majority are celebrating the same holidays I am, and I don't have to take extra time off of work because vacation time is automatic, and everyone has to go to the supermarket and stock up because, in accordance to both the Law of the Land and the Law of God, those supermarkets are closed on the holidays that I and most other citizens are celebrating and everyone has to eat a lot of food all the time (because, you know), and the farmers cannot keep up with carrot production for all the soup, and tzimmis, and kugel that is being made, or the chickens with their needed eggs for the thousands of cakes that are being made across the Land, because, after all, we're all in this together. 

Where was I?

Oh yes, my house. Which is full of people. Why is it full of people? Who need to eat. Like three meals a day. Which seems unreasonable.


Just because I'm blessed to have all my kids and their cousins and family and things relatively close by, and they bring cake or ice cream when they come, and they all get along relatively well, and there is lots of laughing and teasing going on, and the big kids play football on the grass with the little kids because the weather is warm and it's not raining or snowing (which can happen you know) or when it is too warm outside (that can happen too), they all play with Lego on the big dining room table, (with or without the little kids), and we think about taking pictures because it's not often that all the kids are together anymore, but nobody does because everyone groans when the cameras come out, and the teasing begins again, and they all pose for silly mug shots, and my eyes tear because seeing them all together does that. 

Oof. 


 And shopping!!!! I understand that I live in a Land of Plenty, which has been blessed to grow its own food, and that there are huge amounts of produce available: pomegranates, and fresh dates, and quinces (I don't actually know anyone who likes quinces, but hey, they are there if you want), and avocados, and spinach, and basil, and cherry tomatoes by the ton, and pineapples (fresh!!!!!!! who knew they didn't grow in a can?), and figs, and olives (which also, apparently, don't grow in a can), and melon, and peaches, and 14 kinds of apples, and plums, and 42 new kinds of yogurt, and ice cream, and I never bring enough carrying bags to take home all the stuff from the supermarket even without carrots, and I have enough eggs in the house because I did a lot of baking before the chag because I'm lucky that I have an extra freezer and enough room to store enough for food for a dozen meals for two dozen people in my home.

But, oof. I hate cooking. Nothing is going to change that. Even the grandkids who come and ask for Savta's challah, and Savta's chicken, and Savta's soup, and good lord, I'm a SAVTA????!!!, where has the time gone?
Probably wasted most of it in the supermarket looking for carrots. 

In the end, of course, I survived. 
And today, when I went shopping, there were lots of carrots in the stores, right in time to make soup for Shabbat. 

Ooooooof.