Hurry up and wait

As an American immigrant to Israel, many Israelis are honestly baffled why I would choose to give up the good life in the good old USA and come to live in this “tough” country.  The actual, albeit not rational, answer to that query is that I feel at home here for whatever reasons.  Yet, beyond that question is an assumption that everything is better in America.  While some things are better, the comparison is far from black and white.

Two issues struck me when I came back from LA this time, the lack of chairs for the supermarket cashiers and poor quality of the freeways in LA. Regardless of the level of the store, the cashiers there were provided no chairs on which to sit.  The poor women, in my mind, have to spend their entire shift on their feet except during their allotted breaks.  By contrast, even the most modest grocery store in Israel provides a stool or chair for its cashiers.  I recall that when I was young, there was a massive boycott of grapes because, among other reasons, the field owners would not provide long handles for the hoes of its workers, thus forcing the fieldworkers bend over the entire work day.  I believed that was petty and cheap of the part of the employers. The same appears to be true in regards to supermarket owners.

The other shocking difference was the quality of the freeways.  I am aware that the State of California has had budget problems for many years, but it has let its freeways deteriorate drastically.  LA freeways are the lifeblood of the metropolis, the almost sole way from travelling from one part to another.  Yet, their pavement is so broken up that it often requires both hands held firmly on the wheel to keep the car in the lane.  Driving at 100 km/h, that sounds like a recipe for disaster.  By contrast, due to the growing problem of accidents in Israel, the country has invested significant funds in improving the roads, even in the periphery.  I could literally feel the difference as the taxi took us from the train station to our house at the end of the trip. It was a pleasure to roll down the highway in Israel.

So, the land of milk and honey is better than the land of opportunity at least if you want to drive down the road and have to work at a supermarket.

Handicapping it

In my just completed family trip to LA, I had the pleasure, yes pleasure, of taking my handicapped father to a Dodger game at Dodger Stadium.  To be precise, my father is not wheelchair bound, but walks with great difficulty, requiring the rental of a wheel chair for the purpose of this game.  American law requires wheel chair access to all public locations but that does not necessarily imply ease of access, especially in older buildings such as Dodger Stadium.

Thus, my father was very concerned about the amount of hassle involved in this whole endeavor. We were both surprised and delighted by the experience.  First, the parking is right next to the entrance, with a flat plain and no more than 30 meters to get the seats.  The seating is exclusive to handicapped people, involving no stairs and designed with movable seats to allow easy access.  Moreover, there was a dedicated employee in the section helping with all our needs, including bringing some replacement fries when ours fell on the ground.  The concessions and bathrooms were right behind us for easy convenience.  Handicapped sections exist in most areas of the ballpark, allowing for all budgets.  I have to admit I bought expensive seats, but I don’t imagine the conditions are different in the other sections aside from the need to take an elevator.

I am an anti-Dodger fan, but I have to respect the Dodger organization for catering to a growing percentage of the population that has limited mobility.  Unlike many theaters and restaurants that technically have handicap access, this sports organization understands how to integrate a significant segment of people into a group experience without impacting the experience of the general population.  I honestly hope that this approach will become the rule if and when I need it.

To sum up my “handicapped” experience, my father ended the pleasant evening by saying, “Let’s do this  again next year.”  What more can be said?

September Dreaming

As the first of September approaches, young and old cannot feel neutral about the new moon.  The actual events of the month differ from place to place but it cannot be denied that change is acoming, to paraphrase Bob Dylan.

In the United States, Labor Day marks the official end of the summer.  After this holiday, salvation or hell is coming, depending on which side of the parent-child duo you are, as students of all ages go back to school.  It also means the approaching end of the summer heat, to be replaced by the cool but pleasant weather of the fall.  Hikers and garden owners will soon get to experience the changing of colors of the leaves and their covering on the ground, albeit with different reactions, at least in the Northeast and Northwest.  Another result of the change of weather is the opportunity to wear the beloved sweater that has been buried, undesired, in the closet for many months.  For those who bought new boots on sale at the end of the last season, it is now time to show them off.  In the Pacific Northwest at least, the hunters and fishermen start planning their “campaigns”.  Most of this is in the future, but anticipation is biggest part of pleasure. In terms of spectator sports, (American) football fans fully wake up from their hibernation, with everybody allowed, for the moment, the illusion that his or her team really can win the Super Bowl.  By contrast, baseball fans go to completely meaningful or meaningless games, depending on the standings.

In Israel, September, the Hebrew months of Alul and Tishrei, it is also a time of change.  Like in the United States, children from nursery school to high school start the school year.  However, most curiously, this is only a dress rehearsal for the school year since once the “holidays” hit, i.e. Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot, they get another extended vacation.  Because the Jewish calendar is lunar, the actual Gregorian date, but not the Hebrew day, of the holidays wanders a bit, with Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, occurring somewhere between early to late September.  This is quite meaningful for university students since university studies, logically in my mind, begin after Sukkot, meaning sometime between the end of September to close to the end of October.  This year for example, it begins on October 26 at the college where I work.  In terms of the weather, September brings with it the infamous “hamsin”, 50 in Arabic, referring to those horrible hot eastern desert winds that take your breath away.  By law or tradition, on Yom Kippur, a day of avoiding intake of food and beverages, it must be hot and miserable to add to the suffering. Those of faith would say this suffering brings you closer to God.  Curiously, it is also tradition, clearly not as dependable, that it must rain on Sukkot.  I regret to say that the last year’s Sukkot shower only succeeded in getting everything wet but failed to secure a good rainfall for the winter.  Religious people invest in mitzvot, good deeds, like taxpayers invest in December, since their fate for the upcoming year is in the balance until Yom Kippur.  By contrast, non-religious people merely worry about surviving the numerous family feasts and the cost of keeping the children busy during Sukkot. In regards to getting out those winter clothes, there are at least two months to wait.  As Tom Jones might say, change is the air.

So, September is the transition month from summer to fall.  If you have any local September traditions, I would love to hear about them.

Phrasal verbs or the Set oxymoron

The hardest part of learning English involves phrasal verbs, the combination of a verb and preposition, because any sense of logic or order is completely lacking.  Therefore, the only way to learn them is abuse them as Ziva in NCIS would do. A nice example of this randomness is the word set, which means fixed or placed, among other meanings, but whose sheet variety of meanings when combined with preposition is quite unsettling to non-native speaker.

It can take minutes or hours to set up a machine, meaning to get it ready, but a writer may set down his/her thoughts, that is record them while baseball pitcher may set down the other side in order, getting all three batters out.  Many younger people set out on a journey, trying to reach a goal, but unfortunately become set in their ways when they become older, not willing to make changes. For that matter, if you set off an alarm, you actually cause it operate.  Setting your alarm forward causes you to wake up earlier, which could be a set back to your sleep.  Curiously, before eating a family meal, someone has to set the table, getting out the tableware, but to set a bar has nothing to do with alcohol, instead referring to establishing a new challenge.

So, the only effective way for a foreigner to learn phrasal verbs is to listen for them, try them and reset their meanings after someone corrects (and laughs at) you.  That is how children do it. 

A Tale of 3 Cities

Being a Jew in the United States, France, and Israel are distinctly different experiences and something that I have experienced.  During the recent Israeli military operation in Gaza, which is hopefully finished, I saw the status of Jews faced with a vocal anti-Israeli/Jew local population in all three countries.  I intentionally linked Jew/Israeli because in the eyes of our “enemies”, the terms are in effect synonymous.  To paraphrase J. P. Sartre, a Jew is a Jew because the world considers him so.

Growing up in the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles, most of the population was Jewish, meaning the high school was basically empty on Yom Kippur.  That being said, this Jewishness was against an empty background because almost all non-Jews in the area do not care about it.  This lack of contrast means that most American Jews have to “exaggerate” in some way to define themselves as Jews.  Some are politically active, especially in raising money for Israel and expressing Israeli’s interest in the U.S.  Others become religious in a country where keeping the Sabbath is truly a challenge (outside New York).  Some even join the Israeli army, as the late Max Steinberg, who died in Operation Protective Edge. Some strive to install some kind of Jewish identity in their children.  Many do nothing and fully blend into the American landscape, often marrying non-Jews (it happens to the best of families).  Being Jewish in the United States is an effort.

By contrast, being Jewish in France, at least in my experience, is fate.  Being Jewish in an overwhelmingly Catholic country has never been easy since anti-Semitism has always been part of the Catholic Church culture.  If you add a Muslim element to the mix, the situation can turn nasty quickly.  The attack on the synagogue during a recent anti-Israel demonstration is a prime example.  If parents tell their children not to wear a kipppa on their way to school as a matter of safety, it shows that Jews in France feel like a threatened minority, even if the silent majority of French strongly prefer the Jews to the Arabs.  As a French Jew, you have two options, tread softly in France or immigrate to Israel.

There, Jewishness is printed on your ID card and gives you automatic membership in a tribe, whether you want it or not.  The Middle East has always been a tribal society: Jewish, Arab (Muslim or Christian), and Druze, to name the most dominant.  A Jew walking in to an Arab village or an Arab walking in a Jewish city is identified as such even if no hostility is intended or shown.  It is a matter of identification, not racism.  In its crudest term, Hamas makes no distinction between left and right or religious and secular Jews. The person’s actual believes are irrelevant.  In comparison to the United States and France, Jews in Israel identify themselves and are identified as Jews as a basic part of social life.  This does not necessarily prevent relations with the other tribes but clearly sets the scene. Being Jewish in Israel happens quite naturally and creates a feeling of strength.

You can be Jewish in Los Angeles, Paris or Tel Aviv.  Granted that it is an individual decision, I feel Israel is a much more natural (if not always easier) place to be Jewish. To paraphrase George Orwell, I would rather be down and out in Tel Aviv (or Karmiel) than Paris or London.

War culture

Part of the Israeli experience, unfortunately, is the going through these overly frequent periods of mass military operations as a civilian.  The British of World War II and the North Vietnamese of the 1970’s are quite familiar with the sensations of random violence from the air.  It creates, no pun intended, a heavy atmosphere for even the most banal activity, regardless if your town is subject to or spared from the missiles.  For purposes of context, I live in Karmiel in the northern part of Israel. In my 25 years here, I have experienced on a first hand basis missiles during the two Iraq wars and the Second Lebanese War, including helping young daughter get through this.  I admit that my somewhat limited exposures does not compare with those living in Sderot  in southern Israel or Kiriat Shmone in northern Israel, but does provide some intimate knowledge of the joy of rockets in air.  Also, as in all crises, reactions are individual, varying from person to person.

The randomness and helplessness of being a civilian creates several common phenomena.  First, using official and unofficial information, people creates their “rules of safe behavior”.  On one extreme, this can mean never leaving the safe room.  On the other extreme, some individuals assume that life and death are just a matter of luck and go everywhere since it makes no difference.  My attitude under fire was that, based on my analysis of the cases of actual death by missile, my home is my castle, i.e. stay inside as much as possible to be safe. I believe that I am correct, at least statistically.

For those that leave the apparent safety of their house, the next issue is what to do if you are “caught” by an alert while driving or doing shopping.  Yes, people do need to eat even during a war.  In the former, there are several attitudes.  I admit that I used to keep on driving, counting on the laws of probability to keep me safe.  In other words, I have much less chance of dying from a missile than I have from a car accident.   The home front department advises otherwise: pull over, get out of your car, and hit the dirt or, if possible, get near a wall, covering your head with your arms.  I don’t feel scared enough to do that, but it does make sense.  If out in the city running errands, some people first check where the nearest safe room or stair case is, similar to parents with small children checking where the bathroom is. The opposite reaction is quite “human”: turn on the Smartphone video and film the whole event.  Logically, it is probably the most dangerous way to react, but instinctively it takes over if a person believes in immortality and is not actually frightened by the rocket.

The last issue I will address is dealing with the tensions.  People release their tension through one or more of the following physical manners: mashing teeth (dentists are quite busy after the war), eating more or less than usual, talking about their fears or insisting that the endless tension has no effect on them, constantly or never watching the news, or playing video games, to name a few.  I know that this stress does leave a scar on a person’s psyche, but so do one’s parents and childhood years in general for that matter.

So, war is hell, but a personal hell for civilians.  It is also part of an Israeli’s identity, distinguishing him or her from most other people.  From time to time, people will list the “wars” they gone through.  Sadly, my list is getting longer and will probably expand in the future.  As that optimistic Israeli goes, we also get through that.

My daily bread

Despite the endless rows of other food that fill up supermarkets, the most important corner of any grocery store is the bread racks.  Tens if not hundreds of types of bread products tempt and confuse us. Linguistically, some very common stables have interesting histories of which most people are not aware.

Some breads were for special occasions. A kaiser or Vienna roll was made for the Emperor Franz Joseph’s birthday.  A pretzel was for lent since it required no eggs. People often gave bagels as a gift, including Jews over 600 years ago. 

Some flours have quaint backgrounds.  Graham flour, from which Graham crackers are made (ideal for smores, a wonderful sandwich with chocolate and marshmallows melted over the open fire), was invented by a pub owners who wanted his clients to drink more and came up with a whole wheat flour that helped absorb the alcohol.  Pumpernickel, a component of expensive breads today, was once supposed rejected by Napoleon for his personal use and left for his horse and is allegedly translated as “the devil’s fart” for its effects on the digestive system.

Some desert favorites have also come from far away.  Crepes, my personal favorite (with Grand Marnier, sugar and lemon), come from the Latin crispa for waved.  The Bretons make a whole wheat crepe adding meat, which I strongly recommend.  Their name is either les galettes or les saracens, i.e. moors since the wheat grew in the moors.  As for the classic American doughnut or donut, one theory of the name is that the bakers added nuts in the middle since that dough tended to be undercooked there. 

It is true that you can’t live on bread alone but you sure can gain weight on it.  While you are enjoying its satisfying taste, look up a bit of its history, food for the mind you could say.