tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29888503271248965392024-02-19T07:43:54.962-08:00Singer Family AliyaRoss Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-49595562108103696462012-11-18T11:39:00.003-08:002012-11-18T12:45:52.549-08:00My Open Letter to the PresidentMy Open Letter to the President:<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Dear Mr. President,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">You may have recently
“received” an open letter from a Jewish supporter of yours who lost her brother
(In case you haven’t, here is the link: </span><a href="http://righteoustrayf.wordpress.com/2012/11/15/an-open-letter-to-the-president/"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">http://righteoustrayf.wordpress.com/2012/11/15/an-open-letter-to-the-president/</span></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">). Like her, I am Jewish, supported your candidacy,
and happen to have just lost my brother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>While she and I have all that in common, the message of my open letter
will be quite different than hers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Her letter appears on a blog
that expresses her grief over the loss of her brother Alex and pays tribute to his
memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would imagine that anyone who
reads her heartrending and poignant entries cannot help but be moved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently her brother was an articulate, bright
young man with a great sense of political awareness and social responsibility.
I read with admiration of his energetic and idealistic activism in support of
your campaign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alex’s sister (I could
only find her brother’s name on the blog), seems to be no slouch herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She writes beautifully and intelligently; all
the entries that I saw are worth reading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet her most recent piece has gotten exponentially more exposure than
the others – hundreds of tweets and 4,000 plus facebook shares. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">After reading it, I felt I
had to write to you too. You see, Alex’s sister expressed the disappointment that
she and her brother felt over your positions and policies regarding
Israel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your reiteration of Israel’s
right to defend itself in the wake of the latest round of hostilities with
Chamas was the last straw for her. She is hurt and ashamed. She suggests that
you are betraying the growing pro-Palestinian Jewish constituency of your
coalition that gave money and energy to your campaign. She thinks you are
kowtowing to big business interests against those of the American people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">While Alex’s sister feels
shame and disappointment, I feel a sense of relief. For me your statement was a
validation of the vote I cast for you. Now you might not peg me as an obvious
supporter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am an orthodox Jew living
in Israel – not your strongest demographic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Many of my friends claimed that your policies would be bad for Israel’s
security.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I carefully read the links
they posted on facebook and the arguments they made against you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of them were convincing to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t get me wrong, I think you have made
some mistakes, but overall I felt that you were a friend to Israel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cast my vote for you because I thought your
presidency would be a better one than your opponent’s – better for the U.S.,
better for the world, and better for Israel. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I took a lot of flack for my
position. So when I returned to Israel this past week I became anxious about
what your response would be to this latest round of hostilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had been in the states with my family
mourning the loss of my brother and had completely tuned out the news.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I got caught up, my first thought was, how
will President Obama respond. Having just won the election, will the president
continue to express the support and understanding for Israel’s security needs that
were part of his campaign?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, you
quickly allayed my concerns.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Mr. President, I am not
pleased with your response because I am a right-winger – I wouldn’t have voted
for you if I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I consider myself
sympathetic to both Palestinian suffering and national aspirations. I have
travelled to Bethlehem to meet with Palestinian leaders and activists to hear
their side of the story. Like you, I would like to see a Palestinian state
thriving alongside a Jewish one. I just don’t think that sympathy for the
Palestinian plight gives Hamas a right to indiscriminately bombard Israel with
hundreds of rockets on a daily basis. You seem to agree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Towards the end of her blog
piece, Alex’s sister implores you to “prove your allegiance... to… the people
who knocked doors for you, who made phone calls for you, who died getting you
this 4 years more of opportunity.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr.
President, I didn’t knock on doors for you, I didn’t make phone calls for you,
and I certainly didn’t die for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However,
I did vote for you. That vote was based on my belief that when you said that
Israel has a right to defend itself, you would stand behind it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for coming through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope you will continue to express these
sentiments as Israel struggles to find the balance between self-preservation
and co-existence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 7;"> </span>Sincerely,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 7;"> </span>Ross
Singer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 7;"> </span>Kibbutz
Maale Gilboa<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-3072432577888922852012-05-28T04:40:00.000-07:002012-05-28T04:43:02.649-07:00Bounce, Bing and Boing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">A pigeon decided to build a nest outside on our washing machine. We named her Bounce. I tried to discourage her at first (by dismantling the nest a couple of times), but by the Israeli law of "Homa and Migdal" (loosely translated/explained: if you have the permanent structures of a community built by morning you get to stay...), she completed the nest and laid eggs on it one night, and by morning it was hers.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Just so you don't think me cruel, the only reason I wanted to discourage her was because I didn't know how it would be for the little guys to be bounced around all day to the movements of our washer and dryer. You could indeed see her eyes kinds of bouncing around in her head as she sat on them. She also would get scared when I would switch loads, and often flew away, causing us concern that the eggs were not being sufficiently sat upon.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">When the little miracles were born, they were so small and shrivelly looking that we feared the worst. I contemplated calling in an expert, but I had heard that when people touch a nest, it makes the mom refuse to return, so we just waited and watched. Meanwhile, we optimistically named them Bing and Boing.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEill9nI_8SRY_ou0s5HsAvHpPUWjRI_M9Q26fDhPRueUSSjiHaCaeIGJSF_23PoKcAoKdy8PAlUOCOU_Y34Mj4t5bbhVtk_SqLyyrEjDQMSAHUx-HXDqNaOSSldIeV297BkUGoFQgjgyF2o/s1600/pigeon4" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEill9nI_8SRY_ou0s5HsAvHpPUWjRI_M9Q26fDhPRueUSSjiHaCaeIGJSF_23PoKcAoKdy8PAlUOCOU_Y34Mj4t5bbhVtk_SqLyyrEjDQMSAHUx-HXDqNaOSSldIeV297BkUGoFQgjgyF2o/s320/pigeon4" width="320" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">And just like with Adin 6 years ago, those little scrawny helpless looking things have developed into strong, fine young citizens. We expect them to fly off any day. And we will miss them. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Love,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Em</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-4207106884722863222012-05-06T23:07:00.002-07:002012-05-06T23:07:58.956-07:00Bringing some of the "old country" into the new one<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">There was some back and forth on an Aliya listserve about how appropriate it is to complain about the challenges of Aliya. Some felt that Olim need to give up their connections to their previous homes outside of ISrael and accept their new reality. In response Emily wrote the following that resonated for many people who thanked her for writing it.</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Hi,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">I made aliyah with my family a year and a half ago. My husband and I feel very blessed to have this amazing opportunity to settle in Eretz Yisrael. Our aliyah has been pretty smooth, and our kids are integrating beautifully, tfu tfu tfu. </span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Still, the process has not been without its challenges. We left all of our family behind in America . I am reinventing my career from scratch, starting at the bottom and often feeling inept at work, where in America I was successful and respected. And despite their great acclimation here, our kids miss their friends and family, and all four of them would go back tomorrow if given the choice. So while we are so glad we came, it is not always easy.</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">My husband and I are considered (by people who know us) to be very low maintenance people. We are generally not the type to insist on having particular products, and we could live very well like native Israelis, purchasing only what is available in our local kibbutz makolet. Still, with all of the upheaval our family has been through, we have found ourselves swept up in the fever of trying to find (and sometimes import) American goods. There is something warm and familiar about our Friday ritual of Wacky Mac before Shabbat, and it is always exciting when someone brings us American Rice Krispies. And living in the North with few affordable English reading options, there is nothing like receiving our latest used books in the mail from Better World Books!</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">In preparation for my son's bar mitzvah a few weeks ago, I did things I never dreamed I would do. I agreed (even encouraged?) him to have a Baltimore Ravens theme party (I HATE football, and in America I would have considered a sports-themed bar mitzvah tacky -- though we are only talking about a few decorations here...). I went through hoops to order Ravens pennants and foil-wrapped chocolate sports balls. I had to order them to America , and have my only friend coming from North America drive to the States from Canada to pick them up and bring them. Another friend arranged to have us sent Sunkist candies for throwing after his Torah reading. This seemed ridiculous to me, but the kids were so excited about it. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">As the bar mitzvah approached, my son was disappointed that none of his American family or friends would be there. But on the actual day, he read his parasha beautifully and had an amazing time with his new friends and community. In shul, people loved the change from the usual candies (we live in a place with few anglos, so the Sunkist chews were a chavaya). At the party, the Ravens touch brought a little piece of his past (along with a video his friends back in Baltimore prepared for him), and his Bnei Akiva group even sang about his fondness for the Ravens in a song they performed for him. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Did we need to bring things from America to make his bar mitzvah special? Of course not. But I have no regrets. There are always things we can do "better" in the world. We can give more charity. We can use less water and disposable dishes. We can smile more at strangers. But there are times when we are allowed to make choices for ourselves. When someone has made all the sacrifices they have in order to leave behind all they had before to come on aliyah, who are we to criticize someone for wanting a taste from the old country (like Rice Krispies) or something to make our lives a little easier (ziploc bags) or cheaper (American sneakers and Electronics) . </span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">I am grateful for this forum that has helped me find ways to make my aliyah a little easier, and it is a pleasure to share things I find that I think others will appreciate. </span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">If anyone is interested, I am attaching a link to an article about our kids' transition here that was published in a Vancouver newspaper. It is one of a 10-part series (7 published so far). The rest are easy to find if you are even further interested (or you can contact me for more links).</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.jewishindependent.ca/Archives/Nov11/archives11Nov25-05.html" rel="nofollow" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.2em; orphans: 2; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank" title="blocked::http://www.jewishindependent.ca/Archives/Nov11/archives11Nov25-05.html"><span style="color: #1e66ae; line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;"><span style="color: #1e66ae; line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;">http://www.jewishin dependent. ca/Archives/ Nov11/archives11 Nov25-05. html</span></span></a><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Emily Singer</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 15px; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Baltimore -- Maale Gilboa 2012</span>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-17545319907369868712012-04-12T00:27:00.002-07:002012-04-12T00:28:23.240-07:00Shai in Tefilin for the first time!<br />
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<br />Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-55675644653857496632012-04-03T01:42:00.002-07:002012-04-03T01:42:24.405-07:00An Introduction to the Education Profession in Israel<br />
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Hi guys!</div>
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I am going a little crazy here, preparing for Passover while simultaneously making arrangements for Shai's bar mitzvah which is a week later. Eek! So I have decided to take advantage of the free time and write to you all.<div>
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But seriously, I just have to share this before I forget....</div>
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So for those of you have been following my career path carefully, you will recall that I gave up on the idea of teaching after a less-than-successful stint of teaching English to inner-city classes of up to 40 middle schoolers, but then I reconsidered this year, when I was asked to do some small group lessons, and to teach at a home for girls at risk. (I love this job!)</div>
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To be a teacher in Israel, I am supposed to complete 2 courses-- one for a teaching degree and the other I need to receive a teacher's license. The second course is only for new immigrants. and it is a series of mini-courses on Jewish subjects -- History, Civics, Israeli Literature, Hebrew Language, Bible and Jewish Customs. I happen to particularly enjoy these subjects -- having studied all of them in college and graduate school (except Civics). I have two bachelors in Jewish History and Talmud, and a Masters in Judaic Studies. The problem is that the course is designed for people who have little to no background in the subjects, and whose Hebrew is very weak. I asked if it was possible to get an exemption from the subjects in which I have university degrees, but I was told no.</div>
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So I signed up for the course just over a month ago and I studied Civics for 5 weeks. I actually found the course very interesting, though apparently this defines me as a big geek. Everyone hears Civics and says oh no! That is the most boring subject! But I try to keep up with the news, and I found the class very helpful in understanding the political structure. I also really enjoyed the teacher, who brought lots of real life fascinating examples to her lessons. I found it interesting, though the pace was excruciatingly slow, as much of the course was spent going very slowly over terms and vocabulary, and then going over the terms used to explain the terms and vocabulary, and then practicing writing sentences that could be memorized that would answer potential questions. And this was all after spending 3 hours traveling on 3 buses to get there (and before another 3 hours and 3 buses back home...).</div>
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There was a lot of information to learn, and a lot of new terms, but the teacher bent over backwards driving them home in our first 4 lessons, and spent a last lesson going over everything yet again for those who were unclear on the information the 27th time around, and writing more practice answers for the questions that the teacher seemed to have a pretty good idea would be on the test. So when it came time for the exam, I did have to study very hard, but I knew exactly what was going to be expected. </div>
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When I show up for the day of the test, we are divided into 2 rooms. Most students are adamantly refusing to be put in the second room (I missed the first course on History, which may explain why I didn't know the significance of the rooms...). I went to the other room with a handful of people. Our proctor was very meticulous about making sure that no one had any papers or anything anywhere near their workspace, and that we were very well separated. Did she know that we are all adults and educators? (as it turns out, maybe that's why she was concerned....)</div>
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As the test starts, the proctor announces the answer to number 4 of the "American questions" (that means "multiple choice" here...), saying we hadn't covered the material. The woman next to me asks me what she said. I tell her very clearly. She moves over right next to me to look at my paper, asking me again to clarify. I tell her again, but she keeps trying to look (I have already completed the rest of the section). Finally she says, "Well, what's the answer to number 3?"</div>
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I tell her the teacher didn't tell us that, but she persists, straining her eyes toward my paper, that I am actively curling out of her view, until she looks annoyed and goes back to her seat. </div>
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Over the next little while, this woman periodically turns around and whispers to people asking them for answers. The proctor seems not to notice (I don't know how, though she is reading a book).</div>
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Then one woman asks if she can go out of the room to go to the bathroom. THe proctor says, "But you are in the middle of an exam." </div>
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She answers, "Yeah, I know, but I'm almost done." </div>
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I'm not sure why this is a reason to let her go right now, but anyway... the teacher says OK but she should leave her phone. The student says "But I need to make a call." She goes out with her phone, and is gone for literally more than 20 minutes.</div>
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The proctor decides she needs to go out and look for this woman. Big mistake. The second she leaves the room, papers are flying. Someone has handed their exam to the woman next to me for her to copy, and others are scootching next to each other to confer. Somehow, as if they were in a movie, they manage to all find their seats and resume their test-taking poses at the last moment, Risky Business style, just before the proctor returns. </div>
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I finished early and left, but after the exam was over, I got a call from my friend Berta, who I know because she lives near me and we ride the bus together. She is actually very honest and a good student, but she tells me about what went on in the other room. She said that first of all, almost everyone had some sort of cheat sheet they kept under their table or slid inside their exam book. Some of them had several pages. But the prize goes to the guy who used his smart phone to look up answers on Wikipedia!!!!</div>
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These, my friends, are my children's future teachers.</div>
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After the last class I asked again if I could possibly get an exemption from the rest of the courses. The head of the course (which is to say the proctor of the smart phone testing room) said it is worth a try. They asked me to submit all degrees and transcripts with relevant courses highlighted. I worked harder on the request then I did in the course (though it was less travel time...). The application will take at least a month to process, so I will need to begin the next course in the meantime. Israeli literature, here I come! (This is actually the one I think could be the most interesting). Wish me luck!!!</div>
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And have a happy, health Passover!!!!</div>
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love.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Em</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-5123358104789838662012-03-12T15:35:00.001-07:002012-03-12T17:12:45.310-07:00Teaching a nuanced love for Israel or a simple trip to buy Tefilin ain't so simple<br />
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Tonight, Rivital, Shmuel, Abaye and I drove to Chispin in
the Golan Heights to purchase Shmuel’s Tefilin.
He’ll start putting them on next week – one month before his Bar
Mitzvah. Friends of ours recommended the
Sofer (scribe) we met with because he has a two-hour presentation about the meaning of Tefillin
and a demonstration of how they are made.
He has samples of cow hides in their various stages going from simple
pieces of leather to becoming the boxes in which the parshiot (Torah passages) of parchment eventually
make their home. It was really cool to
see how they are made and sewn up. We
even got to place the parshiot of Shmuel’s Tefilin in the Batim (boxes) – well actually
I did. Since Shmuel is not yet Bar Mitzvah, the sofer insisted that I put them
in place – <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">לשם
קדושת תפילין. There is no doubt that being present as the scrolls were placed inside
the Batim gave Shmuel and the rest of us a special connection to this Mitzvah
and his particular set of Tefilin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Besides this physical connection, the Sofer had an extended derash/shiur on
the meaning of Tefilin. His take on
Tefilin is that there are essentially three themes in the portions of the Torah
included in the Tefilin – The land of Israel, the People Israel and the Torah
of Israel. The first parashah (Exodus
13:1-10) which describes the exodus of Egypt into the promised land = Eretz
Yisrael. The second parashah (Exodus
13:11-16) which focuses on the first born = The People Israel (who are called
God’s first born in Exodus 4:22). The
last two parshiot (Deut. 6:4-9 and Deut. 11:13-21) = the Torah of Israel. So, in this Sofer’s understanding, laying
Tefilin is an act of identification with trio of the land, people, and Torah of
Israel. (Here is a link to get a more
elaborate explanation in Hebrew: <a href="http://www.soferstam.co.il/content.aspx?pageId=39&lang=he">http://www.soferstam.co.il/content.aspx?pageId=39&lang=he</a>)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">While perhaps a little to far from peshat (the straightforward meaning), I
certainly appreciated the sentiment of searching out a deep significance for
this new Mitzvah that Shmuel is on the cusp of taking on. All in all it was worth the long drive + the
extended presentation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">All that said, there was a piece of the presentation that I found
disturbing. Building on the explanation
above, the sofer added another level to his drash on Tefilin. There is a halakhah that the Parshiot of the
Tefilin must written in the order they appear in the Torah (at least according
to Rashi). That means that in this
Sofer’s scheme, first comes the parashah of the land of Israel, then the people
Israel, and finally the Torah of Israel.
He suggested that this order indicates a hierarchy of values. On the top is the land of Israel, followed by
the people of Israel, and finally least important of the three is the Torah of
Israel. As he was sharing this approach,
I immediately recalled Rabbi Yehuda Amital’s insistence that of these three
pillars of Judaism, the people Israel is at the top followed by the Torah
of Israel in the middle with the land of Israel being the least in significance
of the three. It is R. Amital’s approach that I hold dear and try to live by
(Here is a link to one of the articles where R. Amital lays out this position: <a href="http://vbm-torah.org/archive/values/04values.htm">http://vbm-torah.org/archive/values/04values.htm</a>).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I was a bit ambivalent about this presentation of values that Shmuel
had just been presented.
On the one hand, the placing the land of Israel on a pedestal above all
else is a perversion of what I understand Judaism to teach. On the other hand, one
of the struggles of our Aliya has been the kids' disappointment over leaving
the states. Of course they should be
disappointed about leaving their friends and I need to accept that and to allow
them that disappointment. Yet, on the
other hand I am not sure that they have a full appreciation for how significant
Aliya is. I don’t think they realize and
share how important Emily and I feel the land and the state of Israel is. On some level, I was pleased that Shmuel
heard someone preaching the importance of the land of Israel, even if I had
concerns that it was being overblown.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Related to this subject, Shmuel and I had an interesting interchange last week. In school, Shmuel’s class had a presentation
from one of the Gush Katif evacuees who told the story from his
perspective. Shmuel came home and shared
with me what he had heard. He told me
that he couldn’t understand why we had left Gaza. While I certainly appreciate those who
opposed the hitnatkut (disengagement), I feel that the demographic problem of remaining in Gaza
created at least as big a problem as the withdrawal did. I did my best to
explain what the advantages were to the pull out, but he stood his ground. I asked him how he would address the
demographics and he said something like we should have moved a lot of Jews
there to balance the population. When I
pointed out that that would mean Jews like us moving from the diaspora to
Israel, he was caught a bit off guard.
Inadvertently, he had made an argument for the importance of his
own Aliya. I ended that conversation
telling Shmuel that I was glad and proud that he had an opinion of his own
different from mine and that he should continue to think for himself. I told
myself, that I was glad that Shmuel had come to a realization of the importance
of Jews living in Israel, even if I disagreed with him about exactly where in Israel
they should live…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">When one’s religious Zionism emphasizes the quality of the society built in
the land of Israel (Am Yisrael) over the land itself – inculcating a love for
the land can be complex. I decided not
to address what the Sofer had said at all tonight and just let Shmuel chew on
it (after two hours of listening to the meaning of Tefilin he deserved a break
no matter what he heard), however, I imagine at some point we’ll revisit this
and I’ll share R. Amital’s position.
Maybe I’ll even recommend he read this post…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-68786394690697458722012-02-28T01:18:00.002-08:002012-02-28T01:18:59.446-08:00Twice Insulted (and Emily work update)<br />
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<tr><td style="font: inherit;" valign="top">Hi,<div>
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I have been dying to write, but things have gotten VERY busy around here. Still, a few of you have noticed, and anyway, there is SO much to do that it is the perfect time to procrastinate.</div>
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First of all, I just have to share a little story:</div>
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In the land that invented the cell phone and the defibrillator, that broadcasts up to date TV series from America and Europe, and that releases Harry Potter books and movies before they arrive in the US, one thing has not made it across the ocean to our borders -- the concept of political correctness. </div>
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So I walk into the teacher's room at the school where I teach, and the teachers and principal are in a heated debate (this is saying it nicely...). I don't totally get what's going on, though what I gleaned from afterwards is that they were discussing their tradition that for the Purim carnival every year, teachers go out and solicit prizes for their classes from local neighbors and businesses. It seems that one woman didn't feel right about doing this, and she was suggesting that the different classes sell foods for the carnival, and then pool all the profits and get the same prizes for everyone in the school (or something like that). This is all background. The part where I walked in was when the principal screamed, "What are we-- kibbutzniks?!?! WE ARE BETTER THAN KIBBUTZNIKS!!!!"</div>
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After the meeting, as I was sitting there trying to decide if I was insulted (OK, I was really just sitting there giggling...), I overheard another conversation where teachers were creating a test, and they were debating the pros and cons of using "American questions." Raise your hand out there if you know what an "America question" is. OK, I'll just tell you-- that is what they call here multiple choice questions. Tell me-- did America really invent the multiple choice question?!?!?! [(a) yes, (b) no, (c) who cares?] And is that supposed to say something about us? [(a) yes; (b) no; (c) probably, but I don't know what].</div>
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And people just have no idea how what they are saying will be perceived by the people around them. Or they don't care....</div>
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Now then, about being busy:</div>
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<div>
The year started relatively slowly, with me not working, hoping to take the year off to write. Soon after the school year started, I got a call from a woman asking if I would teach for her. She coordinates teachers in the area who pull small groups out of their English classes to work with them. She wanted me to take 2 jobs, but I agreed to one, to leave time to write, and to make sure I like the work.</div>
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Shortly thereafter, I got a call from my kids' school asking if I would teach an advanced English class for a group of kids in this special accelerated program -- one afternoon a week. no problem. Fun, even.</div>
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Then I signed up for a writing course on line -- it's actually a manuscript workshop for a children's book I have been working on. After I discovered the course on-line, my friend Tzippy from Toronto actually recommended the course to me (not knowing I already knew about it and had contacted the teacher...). And guess what-- Tzippy is in my class with me! Very cool! </div>
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Between the time when I signed up for the course and it started, I got another call asking me to teach English at a home for girls in distress. They want me to prepare girls for the big high school English exams (the bagrut). One of the girls actually has a really good shot at passing the highest level exam (which is very unusual there), but they haven't been about to find someone else to teach her. I don't have any experience with these exams, which are a really big deal here, and I told them that, but they hired me anyway. I had no idea what I was getting into-- just finding out what will be on the exam has been a full time research project. I finally think I know what it will entail-- a few unseen texts with questions, a few compositions, a project that she must do ahead of time (and getting the task for the project was one of the hardest, as I finally discovered that the reason the information is not readily available is because the teacher usually picks the task, but I am not qualified, and she's not really in a school, but someone finally helped me out and gave me a project...). After the project, she will need to pass an oral exam, which will be partly about the project. By the time she does all this, I feel like they should give her a PhD! </div>
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I work there also with 3 other girls who are amazingly delightful, and I just love it!!! One girl was complaining about how studying English is always boring, and she doesn't want (but there's a limit to how interesting a teacher can make the work when the results-- the big exam at the end-- have to be very specific). I made a deal with her that I would bring a pop song every week to share at the end of the lesson. The girls all love this, and they also do great with the work. The other girl in her class is highly motivated to pass her exam (which she won't be ready for for awhile, but she has amazing vision to stick with it anyway...), and she keeps the pace of the class going great. Then the other girl I teach independently. She is really starting form the very beginning, and it is hard to imagine that she will really get to a point where she is ready for the exam, but she is so sweet, and really fragile, and even remembering a word from one page and applying correctly on the next is a big deal, but she appreciates it. I really love it there. The director keeps telling me that the girls are doing great and they love the class, and that I have to come back next year. But I have only been there a few weeks, so we'll see. Like, we'll see how the first girl actually does on her bagrut....</div>
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So now that I have 3 different jobs that I basically really like, all of which require me to be an English teacher, I am rethinking my earlier decision not to pursue that route officially (which would entail a teacher's certificate course and a course in 6 basic Jewish disciplines for olim). Both of these course were offered for free to olim (immigrants), and I didn't o them because they are far away and the hours are inconvenient. But they don't know when they will offer them again. BUT they told me that I could join one class late (the Jewish disciplines), starting NEXT SUNDAY. I am DREADING the commute (it's in Haifa, where I always ALWAYS get horribly lost) , and it doesn't leave me much time for preparing for the other stuff and writing, but I think I gotta do it. </div>
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And did I mention that Shai/Shmuel's bar mitzvah is exactly two months from today? [(a) yes; (b) no; (c) Eek!!] Have I done anything to plan for it? [(a) zip; (b) zilch; (c) nadda]. Ross and Shmuel have been working like crazy to get his readings down and everything, but it is time to get moving on that (with all my free time). </div>
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So that's basically why I haven't been writing more, but I am realizing now that I owe y'all the story of my last adventure to Haifa to the Employment counseling center. But I don't think I can write more now, and I can't imagine you want to read more now (It is 11:40 at night, for goodness sake!), but I will try to write it up soon, before I forget all the details, and have to make them up, like I did here. Did I just say that out loud? just kidding!</div>
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G-nite!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Em</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-3942088039660945452011-11-29T22:30:00.001-08:002011-11-29T22:31:26.657-08:00Chodesh Irgun 5772<br />
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<tr><td style="font: inherit;" valign="top">Hey gang,<div>
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<div>
Now that I've finally recovered, it's time to tell you all about hodesh irgun. For those of you steady followers, you may remember it from last year, when Abaye dressed up as a drunken Russian, and went to the kibbutz store to try to purchase beer (strictly for the costume...).</div>
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<br /></div>
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This year's chodesh irgun was AMAZING-- not just because it was actually amazing, but also because of the difference in the kids from last year until now. </div>
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Just to remind y'all, chodesh irgun is a month in which all the kids (4th -12th grade) work hard preparing a huge mural (covering their "headquarters"), a funny play (they were HILARIOUS), and a Shabbat meal. The first few weeks, they work hard once or twice a week. The last week, they are out crazy late every night. They don't get homework, and school is cancelled that Sunday.</div>
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This year, our kids took chodesh irgun very seriously. While last year, some of them were still ambivalent about all the programming, this year, they were all on top of getting to everywhere on time and prepared, and they were all bouncing up and down to show us their murals over Shabbat. </div>
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<div>
Right after Shabbat, the kids go on a big parade around the kibbutz, screaming at the top of their lungs to make sure no one sleeps through the festivities. They holler out chants like it is the last day of summer camp. My favorite is the one that goes, "Are you really a kibbtzik?" "Yes I'm really a kibbutznik!" "If you;re REALLY a kibbutznik then say moo moo!" (or "koo koo rikoo" etc). THey also do the hokey pokey in Hebrew. In addition, they sing loud chants about how they are better than the other groups from other places. It sounds very convincing and intimidating now, when there are no other groups around, but I can picture them when they actually get together with these other groups (which they do a couple of times a year or so), and they are the teensiest group there. Still, they won't lose for lack of trying!</div>
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Bnei Akiva is all youth led. The counselors are all high school students. And everyone is trusted with a lot of responsibilities. When they do the chants, everyone takes turns leading, including Shmuel (who was so loud and smiley!), and yes, even Abaye.</div>
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Abaye, formerly known as our very shy child, was the most enthusiastic of them all. He chose to participate in the optional "daglanut" (which I like to call "flaginess, but it is better explained as dancing/marching with huge Israeli flags). He took upon himself to provide his entire group with all necessary costume equipment, and he acted brilliantly in his play (in which Snow White falls into a deep sleep after biting from an apple without saying a bracha, and then they hold a big "American Idol" (the Israeli version) game show to choose a tzaddik (a righteous person) to give her a kiss and then marry her). </div>
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When the 4 tzaddiks presented themselves, one was a black hat American yeshiva guy (with a frighteningly good American accent), one learned Talmud all day, one was a hippie with long hair and a tie dye shirt who had become spiritual in India, and the fourth was, of course, the guy who didn't really know so much, but at the end when everyone was screaming about why they were the best, he said that he didn't think everyone should be fighting. Guess who won. go on-- guess. Abaye was one of the judges, Sleepy the dwarf. He walked around in cute PJs, angry bird slippers (which I bought him for the occasion), a ski hat turned night cap, a sleep mask he received on the airplane last summer when we flew on his birthday, and one of those airplane pillows around his neck, falling asleep everywhere, and making funny comments about sleeping. He was a riot!</div>
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Tali's group is too old for the actual plays. Their job was to do funny little skits between the plays. They were very funny. Tali was in her element. They were the group that received their official name (that will belong to Bnei Akiva people their age all over the world from now on for eternity, which they lit up in fire on a huge stand-- the name is Eytan, if you care. It is a very big mysterious deal until it is revealed...). Next year they will be counselors. </div>
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Shmuel also had a blast. His play was a series of intentionally misinterpreted readings from the rabbis acted out. I wish I could tell you some, but most of them kind of flew past us, being in Hebrew and all.... We could tell it was very funny. But the amazing part was how great friends everyone seemed to be. It was just so tremendous to watch. After the late night, Rivital's counselors took them out to a restaurant for dinner. She came home after midnight. </div>
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Aside from Hodesh Irgun, the boys are loving school. They all adore their teachers. Abaye is excited to go in the morning, and he jumps on every opportunity to sign up for extra things (like arriving early one morning a week for learning with tea and biscuits, and going once a week to build things out of mud). He loves to talk about his favorite subjects. He pretends that he will pretend to be sick on test days, but he never really does, and he aces them all. </div>
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Tali's school is not as great this year, but we are working on it. The one good thing is that she was invited to join this elite program. It is funded by some very wealthy people who want to make smart Israelis smarter. It involves staying late once a week, and going on special trips to different labs and offices. If she sticks with it, they will offer her scholarships for all kinds of things in her future, including special HS programs and college. She didn't think she would like it, but she loves it. It is supposed to be mostly science enrichment, which she claims to not be interested in, but for now it is Math and English. She likes math (especially when it's challenging), and she is exempted from the English, so she just leaves early. If she wants to continue next year, she will have to add either biology or physics, which she finds disgusting and boring respectively, but we will see. Mom-- you can put in your 2 cents, but I'd wait until the time is closer and she is more convinced she loves it. She is going on a 3 day optional seminar with them over Hanuka, so I hope that will open her eyes to the joy of science....</div>
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In adult news, Ross had been traveling like crazy so things have been hectic. He is here now for a short time, but he leaves again this Thursday. Meanwhile, I have started a job 2 days a week pulling small groups of kids out of English class and teaching them. Very low stress. Not sure yet how it is going. Ups and downs. But the school and the teachers are very supportive, and there is virtually no preparation, and the travel is not bad. And some of the kids are very very cute. </div>
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I feel like there is more, but I'm tired. It's OK, I know where to reach you if I think of something else.</div>
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In the meantime, gnite!</div>
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Love,</div>
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Em</div>
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</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-76348611015918729692011-11-01T15:48:00.000-07:002011-11-01T15:48:17.939-07:00I am in Golders Green London and walked passed the King Solomon Hotel -- one of the main sites of the infamous Singer family stranded Shabbat in London from 2001.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VQSEoGqSbzGLCZTKjXVd0dlscWe9S-7QysZ0a56eXflmrOhofhkBoXtZN6dqOBjKmMdXygsBAyGwQXT7_qhWHa3xZSesE0qRnUueo9dOyxgP-wX68xuFuDrrvXWrU8u8aLPdz_b_5VdD/s1600/Me+in+front+of+King+Solomon+Hotel+Golders+Green+2011-11-01+at+14.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VQSEoGqSbzGLCZTKjXVd0dlscWe9S-7QysZ0a56eXflmrOhofhkBoXtZN6dqOBjKmMdXygsBAyGwQXT7_qhWHa3xZSesE0qRnUueo9dOyxgP-wX68xuFuDrrvXWrU8u8aLPdz_b_5VdD/s320/Me+in+front+of+King+Solomon+Hotel+Golders+Green+2011-11-01+at+14.33.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-28132167983458372011-10-30T12:59:00.001-07:002011-10-30T12:59:34.551-07:00Big Hug not news?!?!?!<br />
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<tr><td style="font: inherit;" valign="top">Hey gang, <div>
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I just wanted to give everyone a heads up that tomorrow, finally, after all these months, The Big Hug will be taking place in the Knesset. I wrote a piece about it, but two major Jewish papers informed me that it's "not news" that two thirds of the Israeli Parliament is going to participate in a group hug. One of them offered to put it in their blog, and the other is going to publish the story after it happens in their magazine, since of course, it's NOT NEWS. The Hug will include representatives from all thirteen parties in the Knesset, including left wing and right wing, religious and secular, Arab and Jewish. Can someone explain to me how this is not news?!?! </div>
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Even in Israel, it is hard to find evidence of the event. Maariv wrote an article about the idea when it first started (back when only 10 members had agreed to participate). Other than that, the only sign of it is on Beni's Facebook page (which I recommend you check out if you understand Hebrew-- there are videos showing live footage of Knesset members Daniel Ben Simone and Zeev Bielski, self=-appointed "ambassadors of the Big Hug"-- recruiting huggers in the hallways of the Knesset. </div>
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Today the news is about a massive rocket attack into Southern Israel. A man was killed, a number were injured, and then there was the trauma to many others. Just like when it snows in America and you turn on the radio for the school closing, there is a list of school closings here due to security concerns. that's the news. I get that. But with all the reports of war and fighting, isn't there just a little space for a blurb about our elected leaders getting along? Hugging, even? </div>
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Anyway, I won't tell you more about the story, since I don't totally know yet how this writing business works, but I don't want to infringe on my own copyright of a story I have been told will run next weekend, but I do want to let you all know that you can tune into the hug live (though everything will be in Hebrew). It will be broadcast live from the Knesset floor from 2-4:00 israel time tomorrow (Monday). If you live in Israel, you can turn on Galei Tzahal. If you live somewhere else, you can go to their website and click on "listen live" (or the Hebrew equivalent of that?!)</div>
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I would have gone down to the Knesset to watch it live, but I have to go to an important program at Tali's school. But I will definitely be tuned into the radio.... </div>
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Anyway, that's all for now. If I hear of anyone kissing, I'll be sure to send another update right away....</div>
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Em</div>
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</tbody></table>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-30079241156455083592011-10-27T11:48:00.001-07:002011-10-27T11:48:06.962-07:00Eilat in Succot<br />
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I hope you all had terrific holidays.</div>
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Last year over Sukkot, if you recall (or even if you don't...) we drove two hours each way for an eighteen hour vacation at the beach in Achziv. This year we thought we'd top that by driving twelve hours to spend forty in Eilat. </div>
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On Friday of chol hamoed Sukkot, we drove down to Elazar, where we spent Shabbat with our friends the Richters. I am not sure exactly how we packed two tents, six sleeping bags, clothes for Shabbat and 3 days of camping, and food all into our seven-seater car that is the length of a corolla (literally), but we did!</div>
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Shabbat with the Richters was awesome as usual. It was a brilliant idea both because it is on the way so it broke up the drive, and because the kids are always excited to go there, so it took their minds off the fact that we were dragging them to Eilat entirely against their will. The boys just wanted to return to Achziv (the place they insisted they didn't want to go to last year...). Tali was adamant that she hates Eilat (which she has never been to, so I think maybe she was reincarnated, and had been a colorful fish in a previous life...).</div>
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Sunday morning, our two families went together to Ein Bokek-- a water hike that follows a stream up a mountain, walking through small pools and waterfalls. The kids tried to kvetch about that too, but as soon as we started the hike, walking the whole time straight through the stream, shaded by trees that looked like they were planted and shaped there just for us, there was really nothing for anyone not to like. Everyone raved about it afterwards.</div>
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From Ein Bokek, we parted ways with the Richters (the parents didn't want to join us in Eilat. The kids begged us to take them with us, as our own kids begged us to leave them behind. I was tempted to offer to swap, but i knew there would be a lesson in there somewhere....</div>
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So we drove down to Eilat, where we found the Field School and pitched our tents. The campsite was perfect. We went out for a very mediocre dinner (not everything can be fabulous...), and we went back to the capsite exhausted and ready for sleep. </div>
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The next morning was our day to "do Eilat." The day after that we were scheduled to be at a barbecue with friends in Jerusalem, which would mean packing up our stuff and heading out by noon (presuming that no one would have to pee on the way). </div>
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We loved the Israeli breakfast, with the exciting omelets to order, and the latte machine that can make fluffy hot chocolate. </div>
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The three really Eilat-y things we felt we needed to do were snorkeling (hands down the most important), swimming with the dolphins, and hiking up a mountain from which you can see four countries (none of which are Canada). The kids weren't really interested in the dolphins, so we let that one go. They weren't really into the snorkeling either, but that was just too bad. Come to think of it, they really didn't want to do the hike either. </div>
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Well, anyway, we did the hike first. There were complaints of the heat (how come we can't just do hikes that are through streams and pools?!) and of the difficulty (not hard enough for Abaye and too hard for the rest), but that all changed about halfway up, when it because challenging enough for Abaye, and the others realized how proud they were of themselves. When they realized there was a watchtower with soldiers at the top, everyone got all excited about offering them drinks. The top was amazing, and Rivital couldn't stop taking pictures of everything-- the mountain, the view, Eilat, the boys. (She has since posted all 200+ pix on her Facebook page). On the way down, the boys ran ahead, laughing and playing, as Tali stayed behind to help Adin, walking with him hand-in-hand. I felt like we were in a movie about a family who loves going on vacation together.</div>
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After the hike, we went back to camp to decompress, and then headed for the snorkeling. Tali said she wasn't interested, but Ross said he would rent her the equipment in case she changed her mind. Adin and I stayed back in the shallow water, and Ross took the boys one at a time to snorkel around the coral reef. It was unbelievable. All the kids were blown away (except Adin, who couldn't be bother to look at the beautiful, multi-colored fish that were literally swimming around his ankles, but he was still having a lot of fun...). Tali decided to give it a try, and guess what-- She LOOOOVED it. She was apparently particularly skilled with using the equipment. She and Ross overshot a turn, and ended up going on a much longer swim than intended. When they returned, she just wanted to go back again. Afterwards, she couldn't stop talking about how much she loves snorkeling. She spent the rest of the trip planning next year, when we have to come back to Eilat. </div>
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After snorkeling, we were really beat. We discovered a kosher pizza place in town. There was no sukkah at the restaurant, but there was one on the corner that had been put up by Chabad. By day it served as a place for chabad guys to invite strangers to come shake a lulav and etrog. By night it was deserted. It had absolutely no furniture. But there was a big welcome sign on the outside, and it was totally empty, so we sat on the floor and enjoyed our pizza. Afterwards, we bought s'more fixings and went back to make a campfire. Shmuel was asleep before we got the fire started, and Adin and I were asleep by the time it went out, but the other guys headed down to the boardwalk late at night, window shopping and watching a huge ball containing people fly way up to the sky and back down, over and over again, everyone challenging the others to go on the ride.</div>
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The next morning, I got our stuff together and packed before breakfast time, in hopes of maximizing our last morning. Two of the kids were really excited to check out the wax "museum" that we passed the previous night, housed inside the Imax. As it turns out, the only thing about the exhibit that made it feel like an actual museum was the price. I would have called it the "Wax Lobby." Still, the kids loved it. It had many of their favorite musicians, movie stars, disney characters, and a whole section of Greek mythology that made the trip retroactively worthwhile for Shai. </div>
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We finished the entire "museum," including going back to the car for the camera and taking every conceivable picture possible, in 45 minutes, and it seemed like we had enough time for one more site. Friends had told us about a place called "The Kings City," something about a ride through scenes of Biblical stories with a water slide at the end. I thought we should check it out.</div>
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After getting lost a few times, we arrived at The Kings City, to realize that it was much more than we realistically had time for. Fortunately, we are not realistic, so we went in anyway. We said we would go in and take advantage of as much as we could in the short time we had (already calculating that we would be late to the BBQ, but that that was OK). When I gave the woman my credit card to pay, she said, "Wait! With this card you have a two for one sale! But you can't purchase the tickets here. You have to call them." So I went off to the corner of the lobby that had the least amount of insanely loud noise, and I proceeded to follow a series of complicated Hebrew instructions that, as it turns out, ten minutes later succeeded in procuring us one free ticket. I got back in line to complete our transaction. When it was our turn again, the woman explained, "This is only good for one ticket. If only you had another credit card like this..." I asked if Ross's would count, and she said of course, so I went off to my "quiet" corner and repeated the process. When I came back with our significantly discounted tickets and our negative forty five minutes with which to see the place, the woman pointed out that in addition to everything else, every kid received three free amusement rides. Yippee. The BBQ was not looking good. </div>
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When we entered finally entered the Kings City, it looked amazing! Everyone wanted to do everything. When you are working with negative time, it suddenly seems like you have so much of it. It's like eating when your full-- you don't know when to stop. So we began in the time elevator, that took us down into what was meant to feel like the bowels of the earth, to walk around and watch little mechanical scenes of Bible stories, interspersed with live animals such as snakes, gerbils and tarantulas. To be honest, this was totally something my kids could have hated. In fact, the Richter kids had not enjoyed the place. But everybody was captivated. No one would leave a station until they heard the whole scene play out from beginning to end.</div>
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When we exited the time elevator, we saw the true brilliance of the museum designers. Upon entrance to the museum, there are four exhibits to enter. Each one takes you on a totally different course. But magically, just like the mail room in Bugs Bunny, every one of the exits deposits you into the food court and souvernir shop!! After the first exhibit, when it would have been a wise time to head home, we saw the restaurant and everyone was suddenly starving. At this point we realized it was time to call our barbecuing friends and tell them we would not be joining them. Their response was, "Yeah-- we had no idea how you thought you'd make it here...." </div>
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After lunch we split up, since the ride with the water slide was not appropriate for Adin. Adin, Shai and I went to the room of Illusions, which was AWESOME! It was like one of those science museums with lots of amazing hands on exhibits. But in the interest of time, I will just share the coolest part. After their ride, the other guys joined us and we headed for the exit. We followed the signs, and found ourselves in a maze of mirrors, where to get out, you had to figure out the way. Once you got through the mirrors, there was a similar maze, but with bars that made it look that you were always trapped. At one point, no matter which direction you turned there were bars, so you were really trapped, until you realized that on just one side, the bars were made of rubber so you could walk through them. This went on for awhile, followed by a hall of terrifying screams, and a narrow suspension bridge surrounded by a tunnel with rotating walls. It was unbelievable. The craziest part was that there was no indication that this part of the museum existed-- at least none we had seen, from the outside. We were just following the exit signs. When we finally made it out of all the labyrinths, guess where we ended up-- in a bigger gift shop! From there we headed straight out to the amusement park rides that are just before the parking lot (Do not pass go; do not spend $200 in the gift shop...). The rides are really for smaller kids, but after a whirl or two on the pitsky roller coaster, everyone had a great time taking turns accompanying Adin. </div>
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I think that ends the exciting part of our trip. From there we went back to the Richters where we slept. Fun, but not exciting. The next morning we stopped in Jerusalem for some American food shopping (Life cereal, Philly cream cheese, etc-- totally forgetting how packed our car was). We managed to fit all the food by strapping Abaye in the very back seat, and packing all the food around him. I don't think that boy had ever been safer. </div>
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We made it back to kibbutz with two hours to spare (and prepare for Sinchat Torah and for company coming, if you count Morey and Alissa as company. They felt more like family, helping us through our raw challah crisis and all...). Tali made challah dough which we figured we would bake on the holiday (because you're allowed to do that!!). The rest of the food I was able to throw together before running off to shul. In the middle of shul, Tali came to inform me that somehow our oven hadn't been turned on (or it had, but someone had hit the Shabbat switch by accident...). We tried baking the challah in a pan on the stove, but it was just getting burnt on the bottom. Then I had a sudden inspiration, and we fried the rest of them. They were SO DELICIOUS!!!!! </div>
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I feel like that's enough for now. Now we see the perils of my not writing more often-- I could go on forever. But I think we covered a lot, class. Next time we'll pick up where we left off. Or in some totally different place....</div>
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Hope you all had great holidays, and that you enjoy getting back to normal life.</div>
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Love,</div>
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Emily</div>
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I have to say, it is with some mixed feelings that I write with tremendous excitement about today's big party. You'll see what I mean....</div>
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They had been advertising for several days that there will be a big party at the refet (the dairy farm) to celebrate the new "haschacha" (whatever that is...). A few days is more notice than they give around here for some weddings and bar mitzvahs, so you could tell it was gonna be big. Today was the big day, and we were about to head down, when the sky opened and it began to pour. We waited out the heavy part of the rain, while I was trying to picture what was happening to the moon bounces that were promised. When the weather was down to a drizzle, we put on raincoats (except Shmuel), and headed down to the refet. </div>
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Sure enough, there was a moon bounce and a big blow up slide. Israeli-style, there were no rules, and kids of all sizes were trampling all over each other. But no serious casualties, and lots of fun. There was also a popcorn machine, ice cream, drinks, and a game where they made a pit full of hay and the kids got to climb in and search for candy inside. </div>
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It felt like the whole kibbutz was there. I am not good at numbers, but I certainly didn't notice anyone missing (except Ross and Tali, who were at Tali's piano lesson). </div>
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When it came time for the afternoon prayers, instead of trekking up to the shul, since everyone was at the party, they just prayed right there (there must be a special religious dispensation for kibbutzniks to be allowed to pray surrounded by the smell of the cows...). </div>
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After the afternoon prayers, there were speeches. The speeches were very short and to the point. One of the head administrators of the kibbutz got up to make some "thank you"s. He began by saying he wants to thank those with whom this day would not be possible. He said, "I'd like to thank 3219, 3457, 2984, 3542, and 1914 for their contributions." It took me a minute to realize he was referring to the cows, who are stamped with numbers. It was hilarious, while at the same time touching a nerve. It makes me crazy to see all those cows cooped up in little pens with big numbers tattooed on their sides. </div>
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Anyway, he gave some other thanks, and then another guy got up to talk about how much milk they had produced and what a successful year they had had. He mentioned one particular cow, Felix, "may she rest in peace", who had apparently broken a national record for lifetime milk production. He said that thanks to their great success, they were able to increase the business, leading to the dedication today of the new "sechacha" (which is, it seems, I don't know how to call it, but like a roof without walls that will make space for more cows). </div>
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The first guy had already thanked the Arab contractors who oversaw the project, but another guy got up later to elaborate how very proud they were to work with such high quality contractors, who took great pride in their work. He said he thinks it is amazing that we are about to cooperate so well together with our talented fellow Arab countrymen. </div>
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The guy who was speaking last announced, "And now the part of the evening you've all been waiting for.... The hot air balloon will be arriving momentarily... just kidding folks, but seriously... the kids of the kindergarten and preschool will come up and sing." Then Adin and 40 - 50 other kids got up and sang "Eretz Zavat Chalav" and "B'Rosh Hashana." That was indeed the highlight. Except, maybe, for the next part....</div>
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After the musical performance, we were all invited back to the "sechacha," where the refet staff said "Shechechiyanu" and cut the ribbon that had been tied in front of the gate. then they blasted music, and opened the gate. The sechacha is huge, and the cows started entering just a few at a time. (here's where my excitement with the evening and my mixed feelings really fought it out...) As they trickled in, it was like they couldn't believe how much space they had. They began walking in slowly, but when they saw the space before them, they got so excited they started to leap. Then, I kid you not, they were DANCING! They were bucking about back and forth (seemingly) to the music, while everyone clapped and cheered. You could see the fresh excitement with each new cow that entered the space and saw the dance floor before her. Until finally it was all crowded like the other sections, and they were back to just standing there, looking around on the ground for food. So that was the sad part. I wanted them each to get their own big sechacha. Oe maybe they could divide them up into a few cows per sechacha, so they could dance together (Don't worry-- no mixed dancing-- they're all girls!!), and then maybe they could sit and drink some tea and play Scrabble. It's weird-- when I suggested they hire me in the refet to implement my new ideas, they turned me down. But they did say I could come down one day and give an English lesson to the cows, like I did at Adin's gan last year. So that could be fun....</div>
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Stay tuned for the next update, when I will teach the cows to say "Moooooo...." </div>
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Until then, Good night, good day, and a Happy and Healthy New Year!!</div>
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Emily</div>
Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-66446481404534811052011-09-18T22:27:00.000-07:002011-09-18T22:27:06.315-07:00Beni Update<br />
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First of all, after seven months of listening for it, we were away when someone finally guessed the Chush HaNichush (Remember-- that's the part of the show where he sings a song silently in his head, and people call in to guess what he sang). We missed the big moment, but it was a song I didn't know anyway. And now they're on to song number three.</div>
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The Final Countdown segment of the show may be over. I didn't hear it at its regular time yesterday. Maybe he found a song he likes better. Or maybe he ran out of listeners who love it as much as he does....</div>
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Yesterday I heard my least favorite segment-- where he has someone famous come on and hum a song with him. I don't usually find it particularly funny or interesting, and I usually don't know the song. But for some reason yesterday he had two guys on, and they were from some (apparently) popular show on the kids' channel. When he asked what they want to hum, they said, "Manumanum, from R'hov Sumsum (Sesame Street)." First of all, I totally know that one!! And second of all, they did an AWESOME rendition!!</div>
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But most importantly, the Beni news you've all been waiting for.... Those famous guys asked what's happening with the Big Hug (where he is trying to get all the members of Knesset to participate in a big group hug), and he said it is happening at the end of October. What a great way for them to start the year after the Holidays!!! He says he has already 80 members, and he hopes to still bring a few more on board. I don't know if he has reached Netanyahu or Livni yet. I think I'll go check out the website and see if he posts stuff like that.</div>
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In other news, the kids' friends are so happy to have them back, and I am very excited about the new school year. I am excited because Abaye got the teacher I was hoping for (who is AMAZING)-- he was Shai's teacher last year), and Shai;s teacher is a friend on the kibbutz who also seems terrific. </div>
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Meanwhile, we found what seems like this really amazing music school. It looks like a great community, and I think Tali will LOVE it. It will be a great venue for all the music she is working so hard on (she will be studying voice and piano and attending a theory class, and she may add guitar at some point (which she has already begun teaching herself). She will also be in a small choir, and possibly some sort of instrument ensemble down the road. The theory, choir and ensemble come free with the lessons. So that should keep her busy (she was worried about school being too easy...). Adin is having so much fun with his friends and at gan. He loves being back on schedule (gan started Sunday). He gave out little gifts of silly bands and American chocolate, and now he is like the most popular guy there. He is also so excited because he is a "bogair" (one of the older kids-- the gan has pre-K and K, so this year he's one of the Ks). He says things like, "and he can borrow my hat because it will fit him because I'm a bogair!" or "And I can help the little guys because I'm a bogair!" </div>
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I think that's about it for news from here. Nothing interesting like earthquakes or hurricanes. Just boring ole Israel here. I'd love to hear back from all you East-coasters when you get your power back....</div>
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Love,</div>
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Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-1487069566785464962011-08-28T03:34:00.000-07:002011-09-18T22:24:29.432-07:00Singer Family Vacation ContinuedTen years ago, when we were on our way to Israel and we got accidentally stuck in London just before Shabbat with two little kids and no place to go, and we somehow magically found at the very last minute a hotel room and a sufficient amount of kosher food, but not without much fear and a few tears, Ross said then the he gets it-- that he is no longer a bachelor who can fly by the seat of his pants.. That now he is a father, and he has to be more responsible. I felt the same way. (Raise your hands if you have heard that story about London a million times. Just double-checking...).<br />
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So explain to me how it happened that we thought that two overnight flights, with a 13 hour stop over in Amsterdam in between, with FOUR kids, seemed like a really cool idea. Though I have to say, in the end, I am not sorry we did it. That's why we fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants-ers never change. <br />
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Our flight from Houston left at 4:00 in the afternoon on Tuesday. It was scheduled to arrive in Amsterdam at 8:00 in the morning. Sounded perfect-- we get a good night's sleep on the plane, and get off bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to see the windmills and the dykes and the Anne Frank House. The problem is, 4:00 PM is not exactly bed time. When we arrived in the Amsterdam morning, it was 1:00 AM according to our bodies, and most of us hadn't slept a wink. Just Adin for two hours.. So when we got off, all everyone wanted to do was sleep. We were so desperate we tried to rent a hotel room in the airport, but they only had single rooms. We tried to get drinks for the kids, but the airport only sold drinks to people with pending flights, and our connecting flight was so far away that it wasn't on their radar. So we sat in chairs by the security exit for awhile just because we literally couldn't put one foot in front of the other. This was working for some, but horribly uncomfortable for others, so we decided we had to go back to plan A, and take a boat tour around the city. It was one of those tours where you can get on and off as many times as you like, so we figured we could ride out the circuit a few times, catching some z's, and when we awoke, we could see the sights. <br />
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As we stepped outside of the station, we discovered to our surprise, after the sweltering dry heat of Maale Gilboa, and the record-breaking temperatures of Baltimore, and the blasting humidity of Houston, that Amsterdam was cold, and also rainy. That had just never occurred to us. We were not prepared for this eventuality. But we sucked it up. No one complained too loud (because they were too tired), and we made our way to the tourist boat. It was covered and climate controlled, and we proceeded to sleep for 3 hours. <br />
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When we purchased the ticket, the salesman explained that it was good on any of four different lines. We could get on and off as we pleased from all four. We knew we wanted to see the Anne Frank House, and that was only on two of the lines, so we took the first one of those that came to the station-- the red line. When we awoke hours later,dozens of people had come on and off the boat many times, I can only imagine them staring and perhaps chuckling at the crazy Jewish family sprawled out over several benches, laden with over-stuffed carry-on bags. I can only imagine because I was sleeping at the time. When I awoke (before the others), I made a point to explain to newcomers that we were jet-lagged, on a layover from America. It made me feel better to think that I could convince strangers to not think we were crazy or homeless or something. Because hey, you never know when you will see total strangers you meet in random foreign countries again. <br />
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As I sat up, I began to take in the breathtaking scenery around me. We were riding in the canals, along streets with exquisite brownstone buildings. The automated guide was pointing out where the mayor lived and where the steel company had its warehouse (both storefronts in the same neighborhood and looking amazingly similar, except for the gargoyle statues on the mayor's house, and the company logo on the steel). Along the sides of the canals were houseboats with real people living in them. During the short circuit of the tour, we saw a tremendous range of standards of living on these boats. Some were little run-down boxes with peeling paint on the windows, and tended flower boxes on the window sills. Others were large and ornate, well crafted and nicely painted, and you could see things like large ornate candlesticks and fancy set tables through the windows. When Rivital awoke, she looked around and said, "These are the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen." <br />
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Eventually we all awoke and agreed to get off at the Anne Frank House. As I looked at the map to figure out the stop, I suddenly realized that while we were sleeping, the boat had changed routes. We were now on the green line. I panicked, afraid that this would be one of the boats that doesn't go to our destination, but as luck would have it, Anne Frank was the very next stop. With a little change in plan, we decided we would scale our trip down to the Anne Frank House and a kosher restaurant, and head back to the airport. As we stepped off the boat, we felt the driver smirking, so I explained about how we had just gotten off a sleepless flight and we were jet-lagged. He smiled and said that makes a lot of sense. I said, "Oh, do a lot of people do that then?" His face went serious and he replied, "No." We told him we were headed to the Anne Frank House, and he said, "Good luck!"<br />
<br />
What did he mean by "Good luck?" We had no idea, ...until we approached the Anne Frank House. The line went out the door and around the block, extending deep into the neighboring courtyard. This was going to be a long wait. In the drizzling rain. It was amazing-- no one in line looked remotely Jewish. What were they all doing here? The man whose job it was to say we couldn't come in with all our luggage told me that they get over a million visitors a year. Unbelievable! So Shai and Tali and Abaye and Ross waited on line, and an hour and a half later got to see what it was all about. Adin and I waited outside in the drizzling rain, squeezing under a little awning when the rain fell. <br />
<br />
By the time the guys came out of the museum, our chance for the kosher restaurant had vanished. In fact, we had to hurry back to the boat to the train to the airport (someone should write a movie about that...). We made our flight in plenty of time, and here we are in Israel, alive and well to tell about it. <br />
<br />
Next year I think we'll try Paris....<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh yeah-- I forgot to mention the very coolest thing we saw in Amsterdam-- first of all, bicycles EVERYWHERE (though not a helmet to be found), but most amazingly-- A multi-level parking garage FOR BICYCLES ONLY. Literally-- with the winding parking garage, and all bicycles!!!! Not to mention all the bicycle street parking where there are just heaps of them lining the streets!! (of course, they have to come out every two hours and move them to the other side of the street for street cleaning...) (just kidding-- Manhattan joke...).</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-9557950656624601472011-08-02T03:46:00.000-07:002011-08-02T03:46:50.590-07:00Shabbat Chazon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://1.gvt0.com/vi/0zwI_AcTDyE/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0zwI_AcTDyE&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0zwI_AcTDyE&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-43136296419148271412011-07-31T01:45:00.000-07:002011-07-31T01:46:53.770-07:00Emily's Devar Torah at Netivot Shalom, Baltimore<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">D’var Torah: Parashat Massei 2011</span><br />
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<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don’t understand spectator sports. Well, I do and I don’t. Perhaps I understand them a little better in light of this week’s parasha and my preparations for this dvar Torah....</span><br />
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<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I was a kid, I didn’t know the first thing about football. But if you would have asked me who my favorite team was, I was a die-hard Eagles fan. And a Phillies fan. And a Flyers fan. If they were in Philadelphia, they were my team. On the few occasions I attended sporting events with my family, I screamed and cheered for the home team, and stomped and booed whenever our opponents did something good. I cheered for our teams like we had some kind of connection or something in common because we all were from Philly. Except WE were from South Jersey-- Philly was just the closest city with sports teams. And come to think of it, the players weren’t from Philly either. They were recruited and traded by the coaches. They could be from anywhere. </span><br />
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<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I wasn’t personally so invested in sports, but when we moved to Boston when I was a kid, my two brothers had intense, heated debates about whether they were supposed to remain Phillies fans or whether now they had to support the Boston Red Sox. They both acted like their decisions were based on the merits of the actual teams and how well they played, but no one was suggesting they root for the Chicago Bears or the Baltimore Orioles. It was clearly an issue of identity, and they were trying to figure out where their allegiances belonged. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My mother had a more global approach to spectator sports. She didn’t have team loyalties. She always rooted for the underdog. When she would come to watch our little league games, she would root for the underdogs even if they were playing against us. She would stand next to the other moms from our team, and loudly cheer against us in favor of a particularly short and scrawny opponent who would come up to bat. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My most exciting spectator sport experience ever was when Ross and I first moved to Vancouver in 1996. The Houston Rockets had won the playoffs the last three years in a row. This was a big deal for Ross, since he grew up in Houston, and he was a big fan. Ross’ friend from High School who works for the Rockets got us tickets to see them play against the brand new Vancouver team-- the Grizzlies. It was the Grizzlies’ first year in the league. They were definitely the underdogs. The game was during Ramadan, and Sharif Abdu Rahim, one of their star players, was playing while fasting, and he was amazing. Ross was torn about who to root for, but when the little David Vancouver Grizzlies beat the big Goliath Houston Rockets, no one in the stadium could contain their excitement. I felt so proud of our little team that could. Proud of what, I don’t know. Did I teach them how to play? Did I help them train? Did I bring them gatorade? We hadn’t even purchased our own tickets!! But it felt great to be a part of it. </span><br />
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<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Was my excitement because now that I lived in Vancouver I considered myself a Vancouverite? Was it because of my religious sympathies for Sharif Abdu Rahim? Was it my mother’s propensity to root for the underdog?</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">While I felt such a part of the excitement that day, I can not understand the fervor that led to massive riots in that same city just a month and a half ago, when spectators overturned cars, looted stores, and set fires throughout the city, injuring dozens of people. Why? Because their beloved hockey team, the Vancouver Canucks, made it to the seventh game of the Stanley Cup, and lost. What were they protesting? Who were they angry at? Their team played great. They made it to the 7th game of the Stanley Cup! The other team just played a little better. But somehow for these rioters, a piece of their identity was wrapped up in the success of their team, their city-- their people. Even if their main contribution was to sit in the stands and drink beer and yell, they wanted to be a part of the winning team. This seems to be a part of human nature.</span><br />
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<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In this week’s parasha, Bnei Yisrael are planning their entrance into the land of Israel. The land will be divided up fairly-- larger portions for larger families and smaller portions for smaller ones. And each tribe will have their own region. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The parasha concludes with the sequel to the story of Bnot Tzelofchad. Two weeks ago in parashat Pinchas, Tzlofchad’s daughters accomplished a major legal coup when they appealed to Moshe in front of the whole people and asked for permission to inherit their father’s land. Why did they do it?</span><br />
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<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In Parashat Pinchas, the young women ask: </span><br />
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<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">לָמָּה יִגָּרַע שֵׁם-אָבִינוּ מִתּוֹךְ מִשְׁפַּחְתּוֹ, כִּי אֵין לוֹ בֵּן; תְּנָה-לָּנוּ אֲחֻזָּה, בְּתוֹ אֲחֵי אָבִינוּ.</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Why should our father’s name be lost to his clan, just because he he had no son? Give us a portion among our father’s kinsmen!</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It seems that their intentions had to do with preserving their father’s legacy. Moshe, after consulting with Hashem, honors their plea and gives them their father’s inheritance. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In this week’s parasha, leaders from their tribe complain to Moshe that this decision may impact negatively on their tribal land. If these women inherit the land and then marry into other tribes, the land will go to those tribes.. Considering this point, Moshe devises a solution. He rules that the women must marry only within their own tribe. This solves both the family and tribal issues. It seems to appease the daughters, who follow the new law without complaint. Not exactly a 21st century solution, but it seems to make everyone happy. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Leaving the feminist question for another time, what I want to know is, what is the big deal about protecting the integrity of the tribe?! Aren’t we a nation? Aren’t we a people? Didn’t we just suffer together generations of slavery in Egypt, followed by the bonding experience of 40 years of communal survival in the desert, so we could inherit the land of our forefathers and live united under our one G-d? Everyone’s got all the land they need. As they intermarry, they can share lands between the new families. This should only strengthen our peoplehood, no? </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, maybe not. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The entire story of the Torah has been a process of people learning to live with each other. In the very beginning, the first two brothers, Cane and Abel, couldn’t even manage to share the whole world between the two of them. It was only with Jacob and his 12 sons that our ancestral family developed any sense of mutual responsibility, and only after some serious sibling rivalry issues. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">At the end of the book of Bereishit, Jacob blesses each of his sons individually, imparting to each the qualities and gifts that will define his tribe's distinct role within the people of Israel; Moshe does the same when blessing the twelve tribes at the end of the book of Devarim, on the eve of the people's entry into the Holy Land. He highlights the distinct qualities each has to offer the Jewish people. They are all part of the whole, but with unique, individual identities. In their travels through the desert, each tribe maintains its own leader or "prince," its own encampment in its designated place around the Tabernacle, and its own color and flag. It would not be easy for people to see beyond these deep tribal allegiances. Like earlier in the Torah, change would be a process.</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">According to the Talmud, in Baba Batra 121a, the ruling given to the daughters of Tzelofchad, that women who inherit land could only marry within their tribe, was only in effect for the first generation in the land. Apparently, once the last of that generation were gone and the Israelites were well established, they were indeed permitted, and perhaps even encouraged, to mingle and intermarry. Rabbi Yehuda said in the name of Rav that when the ban was first lifted, it was Tu B’Av. It was the day when, according to the Mishna in Taanit, young women would go out to the fields and dance in white dresses to attract suitors. The girls would exchange dresses so that each was wearing one that didn’t belong to her. This ensured that no one would know who was rich and who was poor. It also, perhaps, disguised their tribe of origin, thus encouraging the assimilation of the Jewish people with each other. It was like a big premarital draft pick.</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Despite the supposed mingling of the people, tribal warfare continued within Israel, and it was only going to get much worse. While there may have been some intermarrying, some switching teams, there was still a strong sense of tribal loyalty. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Things got really bad at the end of Sefer Shofetim, when the tribe of Benjamin fell out of favor with the others due to their Sodom-like mistreatment of a visitor’s concubine. While their behavior was indeed appalling, the response of the other tribes was a bit over the top. They vowed to never marry their daughters into the tribe of Benjamin. They then proceeded to wage war against the entire tribe of Benjamin, and to slaughter all the Benjaminite women and children. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The other tribes subsequently regretted their harsh response. They were sorry that because of their vow and their violent reaction, the tribe of Benjamin would soon cease to exist. There were only men remaining, and no women who were permitted to marry them. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In an attempt to remedy the problem they had created, the Israelites found a loophole that would enable them to save the tribe of Benjamin. Their plan is described in Sefer Shofetim, Chapter 21. They were not allowed to marry off their daughters to the tribe of Benjamin, but they figured that if their daughters were taken without their direct involvement, they would not be guilty of marrying them off. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">They recalled that there is a חַג-יְהוָה בְּשִׁלוֹ מִיָּמִים יָמִימָה</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">... a yearly festival of the Lord. The Talmud in Baba Batra suggests that this festival was again Tu B’Av-- apparently the day of tribal mingling and reconciliation. On that day, the Israelites instruct the Benjaminites:</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">וְהִנֵּה אִם-יֵצְאוּ בְנוֹת-שִׁילוֹ לָחוּל בַּמְּחֹלוֹת, וִיצָאתֶם מִן-הַכְּרָמִים, וַחֲטַפְתֶּם לָכֶם אִישׁ אִשְׁתּוֹ מִבְּנוֹת שִׁילוֹ; וַהֲלַכְתֶּם, אֶרֶץ בִּנְיָמִן.</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">They tell them to hide out in the vineyards near Shiloh, and when they see girls coming out to dance, they should grab them for wives and bring them back to the land of Benjamin. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">While this story highlights divisions between the tribes, we see in the end a sort of national loyalty. It is a story of tribal warfare, but one where in the end, the nation did not want to see one tribe totally disappear. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The daughters of Tzlofchad were originally looking out for the honor of their father. They were then willing to compromise regarding who they were allowed to marry for the sake of their tribe. Ultimately, the law that was designed to protect the tribal estate gave way to a custom meant to encourage national unity. Why is the family and community loyalty so important? Who cares on what land everyone would live, as long as they were provided for? Why couldn’t they just see themselves as part of Am Yisrael? </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rabbi Jonathan Sacks addresses this question by recalling the universalistic philosophy of the Enlightenment. He explains that philosophers believed, as many still do today, that the more universal we are, the more advanced we are. We demonstrate our progress and our sophistication through our universal attachments to humanity. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rabbi Sacks highlights the absurdity of this simplistic view by quoting the famous Enlightenment philosopher Montesquieu, who said:</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I would be wrong if I preferred my children to the citizens of my town. I would be wrong if I preferred my fellow citizens of the town to the citizens of France, and I would be wrong if I preferred my fellow citizens of France to my fellow citizens of the universe."</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rabbi Sacks recalls the story of the Tower of Babel. He argues that when G-d sees the people with a common language and a common goal building their tower, G-d rejects this notion of the universal human civilisation. God says "No". That is not human. That is ultimately inhuman. At that point, God comes in, intercedes, takes away their language and, from that moment, humanity is divided into a multiplicity of languages, faiths, cultures, civilizations. Diversity. It what Rabbi Sacks refers to as the Dignity of Difference, and it’s a good thing. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When the Jewish people began to intermingle and intermarry among the tribes, this was progress. Today, when we see Jews from different cultures, Ashkenazim and Sephardim, Ethiopians, Russians, Americans and Israelis, choosing to marry each other, we see this as progress. At the same time, we acknowledge the tremendous value of the preservation of all of these different cultures within our people. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As we approach Tisha B’Av, when we will mourn the loss of the unity of our people over baseless hatred, let us reflect on how we can honor and celebrate each other’s differences. </span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And when we approach Tu B’Av, let us celebrate together all we have in common. Let us celebrate our diversity together as one people.</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 36pt; width: 554px;"></table>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-28811944782593606752011-07-19T06:35:00.001-07:002011-07-19T06:35:35.684-07:00It's a Singer Family Vacation<div>Does it count as an aliyah update if I write about our trip to America?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Singer Family Vacation Rule #1: If we are purchasing traveller's insurance, we like to get our money's worth. </div><div><br />
</div><div> So we made sure to squeeze in our first trip to Patient's First before Shabbat. Suspected broken foot (but it wasn't). 3 days later, Abaye's doing fine (though we are the proud owners of yet another set of crutches. Is that really something we should need to PURCHASE? Anyone want them?)</div><div><br />
</div><div>Meanwhile, Shai is throwing up at Ben's house. Or he was a few hours ago. When I went to get him he was sleeping. Frankly, he's probably better off over there in a house with 2 doctors. I should send all the kids on over there. I told Ben's mom that if I still lived here I would insist on taking home so he wouldn't throw up on her furniture, but that we are staying at the Dennens, so it's either her furniture or theirs. For me it's kind of a wash (no pun intended). But I was VERY happy to help move him from the leather couch to the blow-up plastic mattress with sheets. </div><div><br />
</div><div>On my way over there, Rivital (who is staying at Jenny's) called to tell me that she forgot her toothbrush at the Dennens and her laptop charger at the (other) Singers. I told her she will have to take a number. Bless her maturing heart, she totally understood. In fact, she sounded really concerned about Shai. She said I can take care of her chaufeuring needs tomorrow. (Aaron, wipe that smug "I told you you would need a car" grin off your face right now!!) Oh, and Rabbi Wohlberg (if you're out there), thanks for letting us use the BT car!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Singer Family Rule #2: Never (and I mean NEVER) be prepared-- no matter what the damn boy scouts tell you!!</div><div><br />
</div><div>That's why, since I made sure to have our passports and tickets and boarding passes and teudot maavar (like Israeli passports), I arranged to have my drivers license expire. I planned way advance, having it expire 3 months ago. Meaning, I suddenly realized (literally on the last flight) that I've been driving around Israel without any kind of drivers license for the past 3 months. (If you are an Israeli law enforcement professional, I'm just kidding). </div><div><br />
</div><div>So I spent my first day here (after a good night's sleep) in the DMV (or whatever they're calling it these days). And of course Laura, who arrived the night before from Eastern Europe, and who has nothing better to do (except take care of her 4 kids, write her PhD dissertation, prepare for teaching in the fall, and plan her upcoming JOFA scholars conference, not to mention preparing for Sunday's big Frank Family Sesame Place extravaganza) drove me there and waited with me. Though I have to say, the wait was shockingly short, and they literally handed me my completed license as I was sitting there filling out the forms for it. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So that segues us into Sesame Place, where wet fun was had by all. We saw all the familiar sites-- The Duckie Slide, The Rambling River, Elmo's World, Abby Caddaby, and men sporting T-shirts with the F-word pushing double strollers. Many of the clientele had clearly visited the Grover tattoo and piercing booth several times (though we never actually saw the booth itself).</div><div><br />
</div><div>Rivital was being so sweet with her cousin Julia that I wanted to do something special for them, so even though I knew it was going to be grossly overpriced, I told her to take Julia and I would pay for them to get hair wraps. It was not until they were already wrapped that Rivital realized that this was going to cost...... </div><div><br />
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</div><div>are you ready?.............</div><div><br />
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</div><div>Last chance to toss out your guesses.........</div><div><br />
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</div><div>SIXTY FIVE DOLLARS!!!!!!!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Seriously.</div><div><br />
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</div><div>Rivital hadn't realized because they charged by the inch. The cost was only $2. Per inch....</div><div><br />
</div><div>The silver lining (which is actually huge) was that Tali handled it really well. She came up to me and opened with "Now don't be mad." She continued with "The wraps cost more than I realized, but don't worry. I am going to pay for them myself." I asked how much and she told me. As I was scooping the bits of my jaw off of the street outside Hoover's Store, Tali reiterated not to worry because she was paying. It seemed that she was mistaking my uncontrollable, uproarious laughter for anger. Or perhaps psychosis. I told her that I had said I would buy the wraps, and I would. She said (I LOVE this part), "Thanks, but I really think I should pay for at least half!" I was so impressed that I told her she should go back and get another one. OK-- no I didn't. But that would have made a great ending....</div><div><br />
</div><div>Singer Family Rule Number Three: Take advantage of coed bathrooms.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The Dennens took Adin and me out to Maggie Moos (which if you can't figure it out, is an ice cream store). All the kids (3 Dennen girls and Adin) have to go to the bathroom. They are waiting and waiting at the door. It is locked and no one is coming out. Finally, Lew is sure there is no one in there, and asks the girl who works there to unlock the door. As she opens the door, before you can say "Maggie Moos" or even "Moo," all 4 kids have piled in, and with the door wide open and in full view of all the patrons, Adin has already started to pee. And we are laughing so hard we can't breathe. </div><div><br />
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</div><div>I'm tired and out of rules, and I anticipate a long fast day tomorrow full of shlepping, so I had better run. But if I think of any more, I'll let you know. G'nite!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Love,</div><div><br />
</div><div>Em</div><div><br />
</div>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-71915912805969525442011-07-14T08:33:00.000-07:002011-07-14T08:33:57.504-07:00Parashat Pinchas<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ttr85XNDwZg" width="425"></iframe>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-27093828248725064572011-07-10T01:18:00.000-07:002011-07-10T01:18:51.276-07:00Emily in Print!Check out Emily's article that she wrote about Rabbi David Bigman that was published in the Jerusalem Post.<br />
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<a href="http://www.jpost.com/Magazine/PersonalNotes/Article.aspx?id=228366">http://www.jpost.com/Magazine/PersonalNotes/Article.aspx?id=228366</a>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-61518542952292953252011-07-06T01:24:00.000-07:002011-07-06T01:29:20.462-07:00Emily's Driving Test<div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">Hey gang<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">It's been awhile and there is so much to report, but I am trying to be more organized with my entries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that I am looking for work and networking is so important, and people might check out our blog, I need to create the appearance that I am not flighty and scatterbrained<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">Which reminds me-- the other day Adin grabbed Shai's head and twisted it to the side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he announced, "Made you look<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>!!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">Now then, where were we?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh- right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Organized and not scatterbrained<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>....<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">So anyway, I took my driver's test today<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">Last year, when we had just arrived, and Ross took his test, and I hadn't even gone to Haifa to take care of the paperwork (because, ironically, I was scared to drive there) I joked that even though I have a whole year ahead of me and I'm not working, I will be taking the test on the last possible day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, guess what!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next week we leave for <st1:city><st1:place>Baltimore</st1:place></st1:city>, and when we return it would have been already too late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So self-fulfilled prophesy fulfilled!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, for the sake of intellectual honesty, I must admit that my test was scheduled for the very day before we leave, but he got me in today because of a cancellation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I got to enjoy a little wiggle room<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>....<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">If you recall what happened with Ross, you will remember that the procedure for new immigrants is that first they have a lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the instructor, who makes his living from these lessons, determines how many more of them you need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as happened with Ross, the instructor told me in the first lesson that I am clearly an excellent driver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he scheduled our next meeting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I let him know my time constraint (to test before we leave for <st1:country-region><st1:place>America</st1:place></st1:country-region>), and curiously, I needed exactly one lesson per week until the test (including one the day of the test-- a total of 3<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">Today he said he would meet me at <st1:time hour="10" minute="0">10:00</st1:time> for a lesson (which are usually a half hour), and the test was scheduled for <st1:time hour="12" minute="30">12:30</st1:time>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I planned to do a little shopping in between.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At <st1:time hour="10" minute="0">10:00</st1:time> we set out for my lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reiterated that I am a great driver, but warned me about my weaknesses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The main thing was that I am too aggressive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may be aggressive in football and in grocery lines, but no one has ever called me an aggressive driver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(OK, no one ever called me aggressive in any of those other things either, as if I have even ever played football...).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was calling me aggressive, as people were honking at me and flying past me because I was driving so slowly, or not pulling out faster into the circles (Beit Shean does love its circles...).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He berated these other drivers, saying aloud (as if they could hear him), "What is your problem?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don't you have any patience?!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's when it hit me that, while the rest of the world is hurrying to get to work, he is AT work!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So he has nothing to be in a hurry about<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">Mind you, we are not talking about speeding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are talking about approaching the speed limit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And with the circles, where he says I pull out too quickly, in <st1:city><st1:place>Boston</st1:place></st1:city> I would get smashed if I pulled out slowly, the way he suggests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or knowing me, I would just sit at the entrance to the circle until<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>all the other traffic had gone home and gone to sleep before I pulled out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Downtown, at the circles near where there is some night life, I would still be there today<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">The instructor told me ahead of time to bring my ID.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In true <st1:country-region><st1:place>Israel</st1:place></st1:country-region> fashion, he left out the fact that I would need 67 shekels in exact change<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">Some of you may remember when I had to take care of paperwork at the hospital after Adin was born and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he was being released after three weeks, someone warned me that whenever you are dealing with Israeli bureaucracy, you need to find out all the papers you will need to bring ahead of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then you need to add anything else you can think of that they could possible ask for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, you need to keep all the papers with you, and present them only one at a time..<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That way they can keep trying to play "Gotcha" ("...and did you bring his brother's third grade midterm report?"), until they are convinced that they can't stump you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It totally worked, by the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walked out of that hospital with Adin that same day<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">So today, the instructor rode around with me for awhile, and then instructed me to pull up behind a truck that was parked in front a bus stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The curb was painted in deep red and orange stripes (which around here means "bus stop-- parking forbidden").<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were several cars parked along the curb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked just to be sure, "You want me to pull up here?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right behind this truck?!")<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He responded affirmatively.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could this have been a trick?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't ask, because he was busy explaining to me that I need to go into the post office (which was just past a large and not-at-all-full parking lot) to pay exactly 67 shekels in cash to the teller (which somehow, luckily, I happened to have).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He told me to call him when I am finished and he will meet me back there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that point I felt a little better, because it seemed that we were just stopping momentarily, and he was going to drive away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was thinking this must be permitted at a bus stop, since you can always pull away if you see a bus coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This relief was short-lived, however, as he proceeded to lock the door from the outside, and to announce that he would be going to the bank and taking care of some other errands until he hears from me<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">I went into the post office, took a number and sat down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were four tellers, but it seemed that the numbers weren't moving at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about how my zen driving instructor says I need to relax, and I looked around calmly as I settled into my seat with a smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This lasted a few moments, until it hit me that if only he would have warned me about this little expedition, I would have brought my book with me, which was sitting trapped in my car at the testing site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But no matter-- calm... relaxed....<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where did I have to go in such a hurry anyway?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Breathe in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Breathe out<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">The elderly woman sitting next to me,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>wearing one of those long ultra-religious frocks with her hair was tied up in a kerchief, contributed to the atmosphere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Judging from her aggresiveness, she had clearly not had a driving lesson in years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She began screaming, "What the hell is going on here?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is anybody working back there?!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She glanced over at me, so I nodded and sighed, pretending like the long wait was bothering me too, as I carried on subtly with my blissful meditation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After my subtle nodding gesture, we apparently became good friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She turned to me again and said, "You always gain weight in the summer, because you drink so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although some people say that you gain weight in the winter because you eat more to stay warm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I don't think that's right."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I responded cheerily, "I manage to gain weight in the winter AND the summer."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She nodded seriously<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>Then, picking up on my relaxed laid back-ness, she remarked, "Hey, you're from a kibbutz, aren't you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which one are you from?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said I'm from Maale Gilboa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She asked if there are a lot of religious people there and I told her that everyone who lives there is religious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She asked if the women walk around wearing pants and covering their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said that yes, a lot of people do<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She remarked hostilely that they really need to decide whether they are religious or secular.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pointed out that many rabbis today say women are permitted to wear pants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She thought for a moment, and then responded that yes, it's true that it really depends on the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like if her husband says it's OK then she should do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided I would wait on referring her to the kibbutz membership committee<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>....<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">Just after that enlightening exchange, my number was finally called and I paid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked around for a bathroom, but there wasn't any.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about walking over to the nearby city center, but I was afraid my instructor would be waiting for me, so I figured I'd call him, and he'd take me back to the mall to wait for my test.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unbeknownst to me, the plan was actually to pick up another student, and I was to sit in the back seat and glean more wisdom during her lesson<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">I am aware that if I were a normal person, I would have simply mentioned my need to use the bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for better or for worse, I am not a normal person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a tendency to get very shy in front of Israelis-- especially Israelis that are likely to yell at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OK, OK, I am shy around anyone who might yell at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And their cat....<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I relaxed in my seat and made the best of it, hearing again how you shouldn't go the wrong way on a one way street, and you should stop at a stop sign even if it seems like you really shouldn't need to<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">I did, by the way, get up the nerve to ask him why everyone was parked in the bus lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His first response was that in Beit Shean people treat traffic laws more like "suggestions."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without pointing out that he seemed to be one of those people, I asked how it is that so many people were parked illegally in a BUS ZONE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, don't buses stop there?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said that in fact there is no longer a bus route there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then he added that in Beit Shean everyone just parks wherever they feel like it, and no one ever gets ticketed for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he demonstrated this principle when he stopped for several minutes right at the exit of a circle because he ran into a former student and had to say hi, and she had to share with him pix of her new baby<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">To make a long story slightly less long, we eventually made our way back to the mall, and we got a five minute break to go to the bathroom and get a drink (I was getting dizzy from dehydration already).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw four bus loads of Americans beginning to pour into the mall (way more than could possibly fit in the building-- raise your hand if you've seen the "mall" in Beit Shean...).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used my aggressive driving techniques to walk through security before most of them, and I ran to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the handicapped bathroom before the crowd could find it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time I came out of the bathroom, there was no chance of getting a drink<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in that building before sundown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every restaurant was teeming with American tourists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I ran across the street and grabbed a drink, and made it back to the test in the nick (knick?) of time<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">The test was pretty uneventful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before the tester entered the car (the test was administered in the car of the instructor), the instructor gave a briefing to the tester.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems that he was predetermining the outcome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had told me before that I shouldn't worry-- he would tell the guy how long I have been driving and that I drive safely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For me the test was something of a formality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't think I drove for more than 5 minutes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was harder for the other girl because she didn't already have a license.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a teenager.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was so nervous she was shaking (it turns out this was her FIFTH attempt), but the driver was super nice, and tried really hard to calm her down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in the end, it seems like we both passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't know about her for sure, since they didn't tell us right away, but the driving instructor had spoken to the tester again afterwards, and he was very encouraging<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">So one more thing taken care of!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now all I have to do is find a job<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>....<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">G'nite<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">Love<span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;">Em<span dir="RTL" lang="HE"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-28695977519224818842011-06-23T10:29:00.000-07:002011-06-23T10:29:02.473-07:00Korach<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8AdSSiNv_74" width="425"></iframe>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-46407388909230591342011-05-18T09:02:00.001-07:002011-05-18T09:02:59.007-07:00The Big Hug<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
<tr> <td valign="top">Hey Folks, <div><br />
</div><div>I know it's been awhile, but things have been pretty busy here. A couple of weeks ago my mom came to visit and to see Tali's play. I figured that she could take a different kid out of school each day and do something fun with them. That way the kids would get special time and not miss too much school, and I could keep working. That worked will for two days, until Rivtal and Abaye came down with pneumonia. Then my mom stayed home every day playing Beatles monopoly (among other things) with sick kids. After a week of the kids not getting better with their antibiotics, we spent the morning of Yom HaAtzmaut (Independence Day) in the ER. Which I have to say, was the best time to be there. It's like going in America at 7:00 AM Christmas morning. It was like a ghost town. Though it was crowded compared to the rest of the city, which was literally a ghost town. The only thing open in the whole entire city of Afula was the pharmacy. OK, not entirely true. I did manage to find one open restaurant, from which we got take out. But not the sushi restaurant we were hoping for (which we've never been to and happens to be located right next to the pharmacy...). </div><div><br />
</div><div> Did I mention that Ross went to America two days after my mom arrived? He got back this morning. (Yay!) And in more good news, he came bearing this new macbook I am typing on (can you tell?). It's taking some getting used to, and it has a few really annoying drawbacks (like that it isn't compatible with the program my school uses for grading-- and they assured me on the phone that they are compatible with all PC stuff), but on the plus side, when you download an attachment, it flies down to the bottom of the screen, and then it starts jumping up and down like it's shouting "Pick me! Pick me!"</div><div><br />
</div><div>But now for some highlights: Before all the sickness started, my mom took Adin to the kangaroo park, which is right next to where we live but we still haven't been. Later in the week, when I finally had to stay home with the sickies, my mom took Shmuel to Jerusalem one day. They were supposed to go to the tunnel tours (tunnels under the Western Wall with excavations-- which we keep trying to do, but something always goes wrong. I've never seen them. Though we manage to keep them in business by purchasing tickets from them and then never showing up...). Instead, they got lost in the Arab quarter. They called to tell me that they had no idea where they were and all the signs were in Arabic and no one seemed to be able to point them in the direction of the Western Wall. They said they were going to trace back their steps, see the one museum they had passed, and head back to the car to buy bagels (a rare treat for us). Amazingly, though, they came out of there, made their way to the Jewish Quarter, and then found themselves right in front of Shmuel's old school from when he was in 1st grade! And it was recess time, and all his friends were outside playing!! Everyone was so excited to see him!!</div><div><br />
</div><div>In other news, Beni (the radio guy-- remember him?) just crossed the halfway mark in his attempt to get all of the members of Knesset to participate in a group hug. Yesterday was the first day he had on a Knesset member I've actually heard of-- Amir Peretz, a major leader in the Labor Party. He tipped the number to 61 (of 120) who agree to participate in the hug. He pointed out to Beni that it's not an easy thing to get a majority in the Knesset. But Beni still has twenty more people to speak to, and several who have refused or are undecided. Today he brought on one of the undecided guys who was ready to make a decision. The guy started by going on and on about what a worthy and beautiful idea it is. He then said that unfortunately he can't participate because there are members of Knesset who are against the state of Israel and who support violence against Israelis, and it would be disingenuous for him to participate in a hug with them. Beni suggested that he will continue to try to convince him to change his mind, and the guy said, well, we'll see who you've got. Maybe if all his enemies aren't participating either, then he could join. Beni said that's not the idea. Beni plans to go through with the hug even if everyone doesn't join, so we'll see what happens. He mentioned today that he has yet to speak with the prime minister, the secretary of defense, the foreign minister, and the head of the opposition, so things could still get quite interesting. Peretz concluded his interview by saying that he hopes we will see the day soon when we can all hug each other, and have nothing better to do than to listen every day to people trying to guess what Beni is singing quietly in his head....</div><div><br />
</div><div>What else? Hmmm.... Well, the water is back on all the pools at Sachne! And I went for a swim for the first time in ages yesterday. It was amazing. I had the place almost entirely to myself. And I could tell that the fish really missed me. They were waiting with particular eagerness to get a taste of my feet....</div><div><br />
</div><div>Back to Yom HaAtzmaut, if I look past all the fevers and coughing, the day was unbelievable. The programming they organized on the kibbutz was, I thought, more spectacular than any program we could have travelledl to participate in. Everyone gathered outside in the main courtyard at the start of sunset. Several people spoke briefly about a place that is vary meaningful to them, and in between speakers there were singers and dancers and all kinds of performances, including Adin's gan singing the most fabulous song (Shir HaEmek), and he performed it with such gusto! The ceremony concluded with the traditional flag dancing ceremony, which Shmuel participated in beautifully. </div><div><br />
</div><div>After the ceremony, people went up to the synagogue for a festive Hallel prayer, complete with instruments and drumming. I didn't go because I was watching Adin outside, but you could hear the music from all around. My mom and Abaye went back to the house to take it easy and play, you guessed it, Beatles monopoly. </div><div><br />
</div><div>AFTER the prayers, there was dancing, followed at NINE THIRTY by a dinner. At the dinner they played a big game of name that tune (which I would have loved if it were rock from the 70s and 80s, but unfortunately I really don't know most of the Israeli music...). Abaye was coughing like crazy, so we went home "early" (11:00?) and went to bed. The next day was when the nurse said I should take the kids to the ER. I figured afterwards maybe we could pick up a special lunch. My mom was flying out that night. But that's when we discovered that all the restaurants were closed, and that there was absolutely nothing to do in the entire country except have campfires and roast meat. In fact, on the radio they announced several public parks that were not admitting anyone new because they were already overcrowded. Next year we are definitely finding friends to make a fire with!!</div><div><br />
</div><div>I should say something about my new job, but it is late and I am tired and this is already getting long. Sufficeth to say that I am finding it challenging, but I am working hard, and things may be getting better. I will tell you after it is over and I can look back and just remember the good stuff. It's just as well, since I went to a meeting in Haifa where I was "interviewed" by all sorts of Education officials, to be told that I would not be able to teach here without another two years of school. The good news, they said, is that they are accepting me into a free program of study. But I don't know that I am up for that. He didn't even look at my experience of my recommendations (which I worked tirelessly to collect). He looked at my education (and most of my formal training is in Social Work, and he wasn't remotely interested in my certificate of Jewish Education, because "Jewish Education is not a subject here.") So that was fruitful. </div><div><br />
</div><div>BTW, I would never in a billion years have found the meeting if it weren't for the fact that I borrowed my mom's GPS. And while I was there, I took advantage and went to the Motor Vehicle Bureau, which I have putting off for a a long time for fear of getting lost in Haifa. So that's great news. It means that soon I will start my driving lessons, followed (please G-d) by my test, so stay tuned for some good stories there!! (unless I have to sell my new computer to pay for all the lessons the guy will make me take...)</div><div><br />
</div><div>But did I mention that it is late and I am tired and this is long? I think I did. So off I go. I know there is lots I'm forgetting, but maybe I'll write again soon.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Until then, good night (or whatever it is where you are...)</div><div><br />
</div><div>Em</div></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-26228430022538625482011-05-17T14:25:00.000-07:002011-05-17T15:18:27.211-07:00Seeing The WorldOne of the hardest parts of my job is the travel. I miss the family and the trips can be exhausting. At the same time, the travel is one of the best parts of the job. First of all I love that on planes you get to watch movies, they bring you food, and clean up after you. Second of all, I get the best of two worlds. I live in the land of Israel in a wonderful community on a breathtaking mountaintop, AND I get to travel all over and see old friends, special people, and interesting places. This last trip was great. I saw friends from New York, Baltimore, Vancouver, Houston, and Winnipeg. Yet, perhaps the most outstanding visit this trip was to Amsterdam. When I was 12 years old, my family moved for the year to Holland and despite my protestations, we had an amazing experience. After a 30 year hiatus, I just returned. I flew KLM/Delta to the states and returning to Israel. On the return flight I had a stop over of 10 hours in Amsterdam. Good friends of our family, Hans and Hetti Poortvliet picked me up at the airport and gave me a wonderful day.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHteaBvCyk7H0nqXACJaDoNsAkvlMFV4K0fFGavg4miVq08uVnZtq5Ld19gPYuTJm7_tIQqSOAYFybuun4bAG90uu2yYI3ThtUidAJcX3yg0Lpg-u64gtrxcIZjdKsFWXm9FvrfJgOXYo0/s1600/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHteaBvCyk7H0nqXACJaDoNsAkvlMFV4K0fFGavg4miVq08uVnZtq5Ld19gPYuTJm7_tIQqSOAYFybuun4bAG90uu2yYI3ThtUidAJcX3yg0Lpg-u64gtrxcIZjdKsFWXm9FvrfJgOXYo0/s400/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594113.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hans and Hetti</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>My mother just reminded me about how we met them. In our neighborhood in Amstelveen, we had an SRVman. This was a man that drove a Winnebago converted into a mobile seven eleven! He would drive around the neighborhood(s) and if we needed some milk or bread or some other staple (unfortunately he didn't have slurpees) my Mom would send me out to buy it from the SRVman when he drove by. On one of my visits to the SRV van a neighbor delivered an invitation to our family to join her for coffee in her home. That woman was Hetti Poortvliet and that invitation led to a wonderful friendship. Years later, the Poortvliets visited my family in Houston. Anyway, when I saw that my itinerary included such a long stop over in Amsterdam, I called the Poortvliets and made a date to meet with them. They met me at the airport and we went back to their apartment for coffee. Hetti did some research and found a Kosher restaurant and so I had a delicious glatt Kosher lunch. Hetti and Hans ordered in Dutch and I ordered in Hebrew!! From there we went downtown and visited the Portuguese synagogue. It was really amazing!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XbVGuOoJVb5QgCBvDF6UdWFcw5dHq2qHWsdVniTNlHW7Qh2eMdD98wHap8NsOmGpMEvLX2kUBPgsUJ-ePkdqVbYv-w91KZFrNKbG4jQN1kDNc6TPU6lWBzAm_6eQz8saySYy6N1h5ZU-/s1600/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XbVGuOoJVb5QgCBvDF6UdWFcw5dHq2qHWsdVniTNlHW7Qh2eMdD98wHap8NsOmGpMEvLX2kUBPgsUJ-ePkdqVbYv-w91KZFrNKbG4jQN1kDNc6TPU6lWBzAm_6eQz8saySYy6N1h5ZU-/s400/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594101.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Portuguese Synagogue from the Outside</span></td></tr>
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I forgot my Tefillin in Houston and had been borrowing Tefilin since. I was nervous that I wouldn't find a pair to use in Amsterdam. Fortunately, the Israeli at the entrance booth had a pair for me to use and I davened Minchah at this historic site. It was quite moving.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-uCRaEltC6HIoD0X-5h0W5U7hVGNN7VGgOzEPWjIshz-uheWxf6m2muB1FAkyIzwJch_uL4-ZSCpWgpD1E_x90dEmwGL9cNAEipKmwEl4LaLroGotcPosYYFQhTbytWEsrALGjgxqbVf/s1600/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-uCRaEltC6HIoD0X-5h0W5U7hVGNN7VGgOzEPWjIshz-uheWxf6m2muB1FAkyIzwJch_uL4-ZSCpWgpD1E_x90dEmwGL9cNAEipKmwEl4LaLroGotcPosYYFQhTbytWEsrALGjgxqbVf/s400/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594096.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Outside the synagogue, Hetti pointed out to me the statue of "The Dockworker" commemorating t<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">he so-called February Strike. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_2120235285">It was the first major protest from the Dutch against what was happening in their country under Nazi occupation. Anti-Semitic measures were being passed and an atmosphere of terror was being created. The strike was called in reaction to German round-ups of Jews that took place in Amsterdam on 22 and 23 February 1941. On those two days 425 young Jewish men were arrested, and sent to the concentration camp at Mauthausen, where almost all of them died. </a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-vQCj9eyeZxIGtUCTGoVbK4HESUQnHN5GliT8Raop6R86Eve3YmG3a6X9PbmlDkY954gtHNYPH1c4Xn3xiQlKgzCiRuOfzJxYfxQ_GFtjmYu4HEetnvgGbDG6x3UcslE9araLevYpFbo/s1600/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-vQCj9eyeZxIGtUCTGoVbK4HESUQnHN5GliT8Raop6R86Eve3YmG3a6X9PbmlDkY954gtHNYPH1c4Xn3xiQlKgzCiRuOfzJxYfxQ_GFtjmYu4HEetnvgGbDG6x3UcslE9araLevYpFbo/s400/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594099.jpg" width="320" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><a href="http://www.jhm.nl/culture-and-history/amsterdam/dockworker"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">The round-ups were in part a Nazi reprisal for what had just happened in an ice-cream parlour in Amsterdam. The shop was run by two German-Jewish refugees, named Cahn and Kohn. The Nazi police, the Grüne Polizei, raided Koco's ice-cream parlour and were greeted with ammonia sprayed at them. The strike was organized by the underground Dutch Communist Party. The party, later known as the CPN, wrote the famous manifesto calling upon the Dutch to '<em style="font-style: italic;">Strike, strike, strike</em>!' which was circulated among many Amsterdam businesses early on the morning of 25 February. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">Throughout the city, firms went on strike: public transport, municipal work, shipbuilding and the metal industries in North Amsterdam, all came to a standstill. Large department stores, like De Bijenkorf on Dam Square, remained closed for business. The next day the strike spread to neighbouring towns and centres. The Nazi occupiers broke the strike with harsh measures. A remembrance of the strike is observed in Amsterdam on 25 February each year in the square beside the statue of the Docker.</span></a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKf0tzeatw6qDxwq45lvE2nMnnQ9wphsWS0kYnbCwLdtNPbk9NMmRhd5v5_pcOtFzS4rgegZHTPgUtfdjphZ8T5_Ro4jWOS4ntR2BcQOfCe5XBLothxtJrGtWcAsZQQeNp0L5XPD54S08b/s1600/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKf0tzeatw6qDxwq45lvE2nMnnQ9wphsWS0kYnbCwLdtNPbk9NMmRhd5v5_pcOtFzS4rgegZHTPgUtfdjphZ8T5_Ro4jWOS4ntR2BcQOfCe5XBLothxtJrGtWcAsZQQeNp0L5XPD54S08b/s400/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594104.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">After leaving the synagogue, we proceeded over to the Jewish Museum. There I saw many interesting artifacts. However, in my new found position as fundraiser, what caught my eye was a very interesting ledger. In order to keep track of pledges made on Shabbat when it is forbidden to keep a written record, the community produced a book that included the names of all community members with a series of peg holes on the page next to the names. When an individual made a pledge, someone could place a peg in the whole next to his name corresponding to the amount of the pledge -- a kind of Shomer Shabbat method of passing around the plate!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGVS3AdqcF34uGJPH42UU-kK8Qr1djI69AksY76BUIepXvvXSlBnhV_lqlX9Yos7IlSCvzVDnVrMTucp9qNxruzdS17Mno6kwqvv6JKBCDu5glgZHrak5Ds3HwVkSgN_3e_JJ4bu-hEOZ/s1600/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGVS3AdqcF34uGJPH42UU-kK8Qr1djI69AksY76BUIepXvvXSlBnhV_lqlX9Yos7IlSCvzVDnVrMTucp9qNxruzdS17Mno6kwqvv6JKBCDu5glgZHrak5Ds3HwVkSgN_3e_JJ4bu-hEOZ/s400/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594111.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Munttoren">Munttoren Tower</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">Next we began our walk back to catch a bus towards the Poortvliet's home from where they would take me to the airport. I loved walking around in the city. Hetti, who is a former tour guide, pointed out all kinds of interesting sites. The important canals, the old churches, medieval towers, the Amstel River etc... Besides the charm of the city which I had not sufficiently remembered, I was struck by the massive amount of cyclists. It was really impressive. On the drive back to the airport Hetti was already planning my next visit so that I could see all that I had missed! I hope I do get to go back.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUcQMECqP6175Mfk0-P0G8G2Mgol7Zhz7C1t63pMUv2t9jIc0mqzojbG1SCYtIMNMRuZFR79RQ7OSiH5Nsl3RGI3op0-gPM1et4LQoHNYCRTf1fe2-kIpYDxNW84XORxhBaI70rx6Rbjcj/s1600/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUcQMECqP6175Mfk0-P0G8G2Mgol7Zhz7C1t63pMUv2t9jIc0mqzojbG1SCYtIMNMRuZFR79RQ7OSiH5Nsl3RGI3op0-gPM1et4LQoHNYCRTf1fe2-kIpYDxNW84XORxhBaI70rx6Rbjcj/s640/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594109.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Amstel River</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVv6QrGQ-cPnmvAjfwt8tdEWVkyrKRAvFC0Oz-mJep8MBnicbJel3uUHCDS4YocPVzNfiY01CtiMmJO6w-3PP2K8gZgaXivH-tVhVO9nZqCvvLGVUUoSqavRQtdJ_2VkK9pS_3QlGFRqQj/s1600/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVv6QrGQ-cPnmvAjfwt8tdEWVkyrKRAvFC0Oz-mJep8MBnicbJel3uUHCDS4YocPVzNfiY01CtiMmJO6w-3PP2K8gZgaXivH-tVhVO9nZqCvvLGVUUoSqavRQtdJ_2VkK9pS_3QlGFRqQj/s640/%25D7%25AA%25D7%259E%25D7%2595%25D7%25A0%25D7%2594106.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So Many Bikes</span></td></tr>
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</div>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-44478682959927534862011-04-23T23:41:00.000-07:002011-04-23T23:41:37.325-07:00How to treif your Seder<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Hi again,<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>I still owe you an email about our McFelafel, but it involves pix and I can't find a cord that will hook my phone to the computer. In the meantime, you'll have to settle for our very exciting seder adventures.<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>For those of you who have been paying attention, you will recall that we had a seder here, with our good friends the Wines and the Richters. We were a total of 7 adults and 11 children. Our friends from across the way lent us their apt for some of our friends to sleep, and the rest were here. <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Seder preparations were fun. The kids were really eager to have a car door, which has been our tradition since Ross brought a car door back from the dump a few years ago, to display in our living room ("so that if we get hot in the desert we can roll down the window..."). We told them in no uncertain terms that we were not going to bring a car door into our little apt, but tradition is tradition, so Abaye made one out of this big spongy gray foam thing. It was better than having the really thing! (Literally!) <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Once in the past we had bought a pinata for seder (to smash the idols...). We decided we would do that this year again. The problem was, we couldn't find one for sale anywhere. So I thought I would make one. Now, the traditional way to make a pinata would be to cook up a flour and water paste for paper mache. But the thought of cooking this up as I was cleaning the house from chametz seemed most unattractive, not to mention the question of having dried chametz fall all over the floor when we broke the thing, so I found a recipe that involved a lo-ho-hot of glue (so much that I had to send Ross out a second time for 2 more huge bottles). Two nights before the seder I stayed up late glueing strips of newspaper to a balloon, while listening to late night radio with a psychaitrist interviewing a famous musician about why he doesn't have any friends. The next day, the thing was still wet with glue, and the newspaper was cracking off the balloon. I looked on line and discovered that I was supposed to actually dilute the glue, and then dip the newspaper into it (unlike what the lady in the store told me). I piled layers upon layers, and left it to dry, not feeling too confident. The next day it was still wet on the inside, but very firm on the outside. We baked it all day in the sun, and it came out perfectly. Rivital designed it into an adorable snail (I was going for a lamb or something when I arranged the smaller and larger balloons together, but she was totally right that it looked like a snail...). She also stuffed it with candy and toys in a way that, as she explained to everyone, made sure each kid would get an exact even amount of everything. Which did not at all inhibit their ability to scream and fight and grab for the booty....<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>The story telling part of the seder was great. The kids were all so excited to participate. They had words of Torah to share on different things they had learned, and they even listened respectfully to each other. The highlight of the afikomen hunt was when someone hid the afikomen in the actual matza bag. That was totally unfair. And brilliant....<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Dinner was delicious. The highlight was the matza ball soup. People couldn't get over how much it tasted like real chicken soup. They wanted to know my secret, and I said it had to do with the very diverse and plentiful veggies (augmented by a bit of soup powder). The soup was followed by what has become our traditional eggplant parmesan and mashed potatoes.<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>The next day people were still talking about the soup, and the kids were begging me to make some for lunch. The pot was full of cooked veggies, but there was hardly any broth, so I figured I would just add some more soup powder and water to replenish it. I pulled out the powder and noticed for the first time that it said across the front in the most enormous letters ever, in a size you could have read from across a highway, "REAL CHICKEN SOUP POWDER." Oops. Thank G-d we were with friends!! After we finished throwing away the soup and all our dishes and pumping our stomachs, we had a delicious lunch of creamy orange soup and spinach patties (ala Debby-- you know Debby and her spinach!) and quinoa and fish ala the Richters. And it was all kosher, as far as I know. <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Okay, okay. We didn't really pump our stomachs, and it turns out that most of the dishes ended up being either fine or kasherable. IN the end, I think all we really lost was a ladel, and trust in our friend Emily. OK, okay, just the ladel. I guess everyone still trusted me since they ate here again the next day (well, what choice did they have, the suckers?) and the Richters are letting us bring food to them tomorrow (mwa ha ha...) <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>[Don't worry Camille-- I am not making fish.]<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>So that was exciting, and we get a breather for the next couple of years, as we will go the the Richters and then the Wines for seder. And they won't ask me to bring the soup....<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Now a little vacation update:<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>The day after the seder (count 'em-- ONE seder), we all (Wines, Richters and us) went to Rosh Hanikra. The original plan was to buy a group ticket to three sites in the area, but in the end it is quite miraculous that we managed the one. Next year we will be following the lead of our friends the Slotnicks, kashering our house early, and doing our vacation BEFORE the holiday starts (In Israel you get a week off before Passover for cleaning, etc). The Slotnicks were there the week before, breezing through everywhere. We spent half the day waiting on line for Space Mountain. Er.... Rosh Hanikra. It felt the same while we were on line for over two hours. The only difference is there were no helpful guides in Disney suits to keep people from cutting in line, and if I were there by myself I would still be waiting in line as everyone would be pushing past me. <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>The line was for a cable car that took us down (eventually) to one of the most stunning natural sites. You walk into tunnels, and see more tunnels that have been carved over the millenia by the combination of water and salt in the white and blue crashing waves, creating the most beautiful rock formations. Unfortunately, seeing the site on Passover is not enough different than going to the Museum of Natural History on winter break, and being swept by the crowd from one exhibit behind a rope to another. Roni, who is an amateur photographer, was enjoying the scenes and capturing them with her phone camera (which is unfortunately all she had with her). For me, I think to personally really enjoy the site I would need time to be alone with the scenes, and surrounded by the sounds of the waves instead of the sounds of the tourists. But the kids were enjoying running from scene to scene, and that definitely made it worth it.<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Unfortunately, Ross wasn't feeling great, and he stayed back at the car, but when we were came out, he was starting to feel better, We decided to try to find a place to eat in Neharia (not simple on Passover).<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>As we were driving into the city, we saw the ocean, and the kids starting begging to go into the water. My kids were somewhat prepared with changes of clothes (just because I always try to travel with changes of clothes), and the other guys all had their whole weekend's luggage with them, including bedding, and even a couple of towels. So we let the kids go in, and they had the most thrilling unadulterated fun-- the kind you can't plan for because a plan would have involved 11 kids arguing about what they want to do, but this was just the spontaneous exhiliration of doing something unplanned, that felt maybe even a little wrong (indeed, some parents tried to forbid the kids going in past their knees in their clothes, but in the end everyone was soaking wet anyway), and would be highly inconvenient for the grownups (getting everyone dried up and dressed for dinner).. It was just awesome!<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>As the kids were drying off and changing, we were asking all passersby if anyone knew of a place to get a kosher for Passover dinner. We wanted a "shipudia" (a place where you choose what kind of meet you want grilled on a skewer, served with millions of beautiful salads). We were not having much luck with finding any restaurant at all, and some guys were going to go to the supermarket to find something they could put on matza, when somehow I found someone who gave us great directions to an actual shipudia!!! When we got there, we told the waitress we were 15 (a few had dropped out and gone home), and she ushered us straight into the back, where we had an enormous party room to ourselves. The little guys could run around like crazy without bothering anyone, and we could have a nice hot and unbelievable delicious meal. <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table> Halfway through dinner, the waitress came out with little toy trumpets which she proceeded to hand out to all the kids. The kids started blasting the trupets, as Roni and Ross looked at each other and said in unison "There goes her tip!", but in fact, the trupets blasts were ever worth it, and we tipped them the great tip they deserved for being exactly what we needed, and for being really amazing hosts<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>If you still have patience for a bit more, I'll add that the next day, just our family went to a small hike down to a waterfall in the Golan. It was stunningly beautiful, perfectly challenging, and we were amazed by many things. First of all, it was just amazing how many families were out hiking. Second, I love the hiking culture here. In stark contrast to our wait in line for Space Mountain Rosh Hanikra, here, when we got to the hard part of the hike, when you had to climb down a particularly steep part by holding onto handles that had been put into the rocks, the people formed a line and everyone waited patiently. Someone took it upon himself at the bottom of the line to help little guys down, and at the top someone was offering a hand to help people up. One guy tried to push ahead of the line, and everyone appropriately rebuked him as he took his place and waited in line with everyone else.<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>The other amazing thing was that EVERYONE was eating matza. I mean EVERYONE. That goes for Rosh Hanikra and the waterfall. In fact, it was really interesting to watch people comparing the different things they had prepared special for Passover. One guy had corn and chumus, and another guy had rice, and this started them all on a discussion of where they were from. <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>There were yeshiva guys swimming and singing with their tzitzit flowing in the water, and there were women in bikinis (though not at the same time), and everyone was out hiking on Passover. And everyone was eating matza. So cool!<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Tomorrow we are off to spend the last day with the Richters (and to reunite with Rivital, who went home with Adiel on Thursday). Hopefully we'll find some fun thing to do on the way. Stay tuned!<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Happy Holiday!!!<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Love,<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Em <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table> <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"></table>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2988850327124896539.post-74465451234310559202011-04-22T00:36:00.001-07:002011-04-22T00:36:58.294-07:00Pesach Sameach<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
<tr> <td valign="top">Hey gang,<br />
<br />
There are so many things I have been meaning to write about, and each one deserves its own entry. I don't know how you anglos are feeling, but I was talking to someone in the playground on Shabbat, and she told me that she read my blog entry from Purim (I sent a link to it on the Maale Gilboa listserv because I thought people here might enjoy it). She told me that she enjoyed it so much and that it was a great way for her to find out what happened here on Purim (they were away), as I really covered everything, but then she remarked that it was so long, and do people really read such long entries? She is not at all a native English speaker, so I'm just going to chalk it up to that, and presume that I am not at all long-winded....<br />
<br />
But even if I am long winded, I can't really do justice to this last week if I include the mundane things that happened before it, so I will try to come back to the saga of our electric grill and our adventures getting a "McFelafel" at McDonalds (complete with pix when I figure out how to add them).<br />
<br />
In the meantime, I want to tell you about what I learned about our kibbutz community through a heartbreaking tragedy and a most heartwarming celebration. <br />
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Our kibbutz is an unusual community, having been first a kibbutz, then privatizing, and than re-kibbutzifying in a way that it is still not clear to us exactly what makes it a kibbutz. When we ask, we receive different responses from different people. It is clearly more privatized that what is usually thought of as a kibbutz. There is no dining hall. Most people work off the kibbutz, and salaries are not pooled (there is some sort of taxing on salaries, but not the sort of thing where you have the same as everyone regardless of what you earn, and there are definitely no meetings about who can go to college and who can go on vacation. In fact, most of the people who live here are not members! <br />
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We have friends who live as residents on another kibbutz who describe that there is some tension around people living there who are not becoming members, and therefore having different status and benefits, but we have never seen anything like that here. In fact, it is hard to know who here are the members and who aren't, unless they tell you. Everyone is invited to meetings to discuss and make decisions about the future of the community. In fact, Ross was surprised when he discovered that the head of the membership committee has lived here for over a decade but is not a member! <br />
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The other day one of the kids complained that on kibbutz "everyone knows everything about everybody (which has not been my experience. I don't even know everyone's name!). But we saw the other side of that this week, when a baby of one of the families (who happens to not be "members") died in his crib.<br />
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I heard the awful news when I was out for a walk. As I was getting close to my return home, I was walking by the park where Shmuel and Abaye were having an activity with the kids house (Building benches out of mud). As I approached, the kids came running up to me to ask what happened.. They didn't know, but they saw several ambulances and police cars pouring into the kibbutz, so of course they were concerned. One of the mothers who knew what was going on told them that the news wasn't yet public, but tried to give them a sense of the nature of the tragedy, and assured them that it didn't affect any of them directly. She saw their concern and agreed to sit with them until the news could be shared. I decided to sit with them, and shortly after, she sat them all down and had a long talk about what had happened, She took all of their questions and then made sure everyone had a home to go to where there would be a grown up to be with them. <br />
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The news didn't affect any of those kids directly because the family only has younger kids, but it happened to be the baby brother of a good friend of Adin's. We talked to Adin about what happened that night, and then they talked about it again at gan the next day, with the big brother. Of course the kids took in what they could understand (Adin came home from gan insisting that he had to go over to the boys house to make his baby alive again). <br />
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Anyway, the whole week, a heavy sadness fell over the whole kibbutz. The funeral was massive-- it seemed like everyone from the community was there, along with a lot of their extended family and friends. We gathered for some words of eulogy (the grandfather spoke about how G-d seals the book of life on Yom Kippur, but clearly there had been some sort of a typo, because how could this baby have been inscribed to die? SO heartbreaking...), and then we drove two minutes down the road to the tiny cemetery that serves our kibbutz and the kibbutz next to us. I think there are fewer than 10 stones. It was insanely windy and it was hard to hear what people were saying, but all around us, everyone was bawling. Everyone seemed to be really present and focused on being with them. <br />
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When we returned to the kibbutz, the rabbi's wife immediately arranged for minyans, meals, and helpers (to clean and just be with the family around the clock). I was asked to take Adin's friend home with us after gan the next day, but he didn't want to come. He wanted to go home. Since then, however, I have seen them (him and his little brother) around the kibbutz with lots of different friends and family. A couple of days later, when the kibbutz made their own matza factory (which was just awesome!), the gan teacher had picked up the two boys, and brought them to bake matzas. They seemed to have a great time.<br />
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When Shabbat came, it had been almost a week since the tragedy. In the meantime, a few days before, a baby had been born, and the bris was scheduled for right after Shabbat services. The place was tense with the sadness of the one event and the joy of the other. The baby's father was out of the house for probably the first time all week. The rabbi who gave the d'var Torah spoke very briefly, and only about the recent events. He talked about the difficulty of living in the tension of such sadness and such joy. He talked mostly about the big hug and the love that we all are giving the grieving family (the dad was in shul). He ended with saying there aren't words, but that we are there with them with love and with hugs. <br />
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After services, they began the bris. Irregardless of recent events, it was by far the most moving bris I had ever attended. Ross said exactly the same thing right afterward. They brought this baby into the covenant with a endless string of songs and lullabyes. People were singing and dancing, and again, a sea of tears. Tears of joy, tears of sadness, and I am sure for many, like for me and Ross, sobs that gave voice to the powerful tension of the two.<br />
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Shabbat afternoon I attended the woman's class, and still the sadness and the joy and the tension were first and foremost on everyone's mind. The woman who taught the class (who happened to be the mom who sat with the kids that morning as they waited to hear the news), taught about a few interesting customs related to the seder and the hagaddah. She ended by talking about the idea that everyone goes through what she called "their personal Exodus from Egypt." Women shared how sometimes the most horrible events help to make us stronger, while sometimes the most irrelevant and mundane things can knock us down. <br />
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The teacher concluded with a beautiful poem about how everyone needs an "Egypt." I can't possibly do it justice in my feeble attempt at a translation (if you can check it out in Hebrew, it's by Amnon Divek (?) and it's called "Everyone needs Egypt.", but towards the end it says something like<br />
<br />
Everyone needs some sort of Egypt<br />
To redeem himself from it, from the house of slavery<br />
To go out in the middle of the night to the desert of fears<br />
To march straight into the waters<br />
To see them open before him to the sides.<br />
Everyone needs a shoulder....<br />
<br />
The reason I attempt to translate for you despite the inadequacy is because amazingly, just now I opened my email and found that the parents of the baby had just sent out an email thanking everyone for their help and support. They said that they were overwhelmed and comforted by it, and that they felt very both hugged and loved. They concluded the email with the above excerpt of that same poem. <br />
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I could feel all week that this was indeed a huge part of what made us the community that we are. We are so blessed to live in a community of unbelievably creative, talented, intelligent, thoughtful and loving people who have very independent lives, but who also want to be part of something bigger. I cannot think of a place on earth where I would rather live. This week has got me doing a lot of thinking about seeing my life's challenges as opportunities to grow. It has also to me thinking that I still have a lot of names to learn and I lot of people I want to get to know better.<br />
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I wish everyone a holiday of growth, strength, health and joy. I look forward to sharing with you about our seder (which promises to be exciting, with the Wines AND the Richters!!), as well as our McFelafel and our grill. And I would love to hear about yours!!!<br />
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Love,<br />
<br />
Emily</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ross Singerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14424182146318482731noreply@blogger.com0