"since he was Scottish (and at least slightly crazy)"

A day late, I'm watching Reagan's famous D-Day speech. That reminds me that I've been long delinquent in posting these two obituaries for the late Bill Millin. I especially recommend the very end of the first link.

Here are two clips portraying him in The Longest Day. (Yes, that's Sean Connery.) The title of this post is from the article on Cracked.

One thing I'll say about the Jerusalem light rail- it's keeping fresh my old skill, gained in the NYC subway, of being able to stand on a moving train without holding on.

A few nights back I was on a bus instead, coming back from a fascinating trip to Tel Aviv. (See Facebook for details.) A lanky American-accented soldier was showing his papers to the driver to get his free (really paid for by the IDF) ride- maybe he was too fresh a recruit to have the ID- and the driver was a bit skeptical. Finally, the soldier say down behind him. The charedi-ish man next to him- also American- began offering to pay. "I don't want you to get in trouble." "I won't, really. I can pay if I have to, trust me." They went back and forth a bit, the soldier thanking the other man before he got off. Nice.

The Sky Is Falling!

You have to love the second item here. (Item number 4 as listed.) Science is beginning to catch up to how, whoa, the planet has not warmed in twenty years. But not to worry! Not only do they have a handy-dandy explanation for it that still manages to blame us poor humans (never mind that print has been going out for only five or ten years or so), they're able to spin it into yet another pending disaster! I guess just as everything was due to "global warming" (and, of course, our fault), so too global cooling is our fault (actually, I see it's already on that list), and it's going to be a doozy.

Don't these people ever get tired? No, I guess not.

HaMakom

We live across the street from Restobar, formerly Cafe Moment, which eleven years ago today was the site of a suicide bombing which killed eleven and injured 54. Walking past it tonight, we saw a memorial underway: The parents of the victims made a special frame for eleven candles bearing their childrens' pictures. The waiters were all standing alongside; being bareheaded, some were covering their heads with their hands, others with improvised "kippot" made out of napkins.

Hanoch Teller once wrote a story in which a character explains that the phrase "HaMakom Yinachem Etchem" can be read as follows: In the midst of tragedy, sometimes, it's "HaMakom"- this place, the Land of Israel, with all its special qualities- that comforts you.

How'm I doin'?

I remember seeing Ed Koch in person only once. (I imagine I saw him a bunch more times than that, especially in the Israel Parade, but I don't recall them.) I was walking down Fifth Avenue- this was years after he left office- and he was coming out of one the high-end men's shops. A couple of construction worker types were standing on sidewalk and saw him. "Ayyyyy! Ed Koch!" one yelled in thick New Yawkese. He smiled and waved at them. No, he didn't ask them how he was doing, as far as I know, because that would have been too perfect.

"Ehhh...The Vatican think's he's cuckoo. I think he's cuckoo."

"I have the body of a Greek god."

James and Joel, who had a show on the same radio station as him, used to play the above quotes of his, among others, as bumpers. No, they don't have to make sense to be funny.

Gonzo: "Mr. Mayor! Mr. Mayor, I'm looking for a frog who can sing and dance!"

"If he can balance the budget, I'll hire him!"

And a worthy sentiment: "The people have rejected me and they must be punished." And punished we were.

I can't say he was that great a mayor- certainly not as good as Rudy, of course- but he had personality. And that, as we know, goes a long way. My father remembers him as the East Side's congressman. (My father taught at Ramaz.) And his military record should be pointed out. The rest...well, on balance, pretty good, for a Democrat. I shall refrain from quoting R' Kahane.

Oh, and the bridge naming? A lot more deserved than RFK, I'll tell you that.

Two Funny Points

Two funny points, just like the title tells us:

A famous painting is up for sale. The webpage describing it ends with this tantalizing note:

"The past few years it has resided in a religious museum [The Living Torah Museum in Brooklyn- NL, via the first link above], but doctrinal differences have insisted that the painting be deaccessioned."

That last word must be a specialized auction house word meaning "sell," but I'd love to know what "doctrinal differences" even means.

Machsom Watch is a typical leftist agitator group who tries to act against the "occupation." Every now and then there's an ad in the paper advertising one of their tours, which I guess are designed to turn their participants against the "occupation" as well. You can see an internet version here.

The kicker line for me always comes toward the end:

"All zones and roads are under the control of the IDF."

Well, yeah, the Palestinians are a bunch of murderous thugs who you wouldn't trust with anything, much less your life, and we need the IDF to defend us. But let's protest the IDF and try to hand more land over to the Arabs, eh?

CMOH

My great-aunt Edith, of blessed memory, was quite the woman. Among many other accomplishments, not the least of which was being the powerful matriarch of an incredible family, she was one of the "Rosie the Riveters" during World War II, working in a bullet factory. Decades later, into her eighties, she would still roll up her sleeves and show the forearm muscles she'd developed back then. (I remember my mother arranging to have her recognized as "citizen of the year" or something similar by her home community in Cleveland, hearth of the clan.)

Tante Itka, as we called her, was Russian-born, salty as any Yiddish grandmother. She once boasted to us- without exaggerating a bit- that "The Malach HaMoves was my shadchan," that is, the Angel of Death was her matchmaker. (She was introduced to her first husband at a cemetery- I think they were attending separate funerals, she of a Christian Science cousin who'd died young. You can't make these things up.) We were eating when she told us this, and she began to laugh so hard that some food went down the wrong tube. Nothing serious; she coughed and cleared it up, and immediately began laughing again. "See?" she said, "I mention the Malach HaMoves and here he comes to get me!"

OK, one more story (of many I can tell) before I get to my point: She visited Russia for the first time since she'd left in the early 1920's when one of my cousins (her granddaughter) was volunteering for Jews there with YUSSR. She got off the plane, opened her mouth, and Russian, a language she hadn't spoken a word of for about seventy years, began rolling fluently off her tongue. A YU publication quoted my cousin describing how they still had outhouses where she was. It then went on to quote Itka: "Well, at least you had a seat on the toilet."

Why this flood of memories? Well, today brings news that Daniel Inouye has passed away. As is known, he lost an arm fighting in World War II. Once, my mother accompanied my great-aunt to the airport; they were in the lounge waiting for her flight and Senator Inouye was seated nearby. Itka leaned over to my mother and in a stage whisper asked, "How does he make his tie?" Ah, bless her memory.

As to Senator Inouye himself, only three words need be said- three words, or a symbol thereof, which will almost certainly appear on his tombstone: "Medal of Honor."

My old friend Sussman once told me a story of a man who interviewed for a job and didn't get it. (This may have been in the 1950's.) After he left, the man who conducted the interview was asked why he didn't give him the job. "I can't take seriously any man who would wear a lapel pin," he answered. The other man looked at him as if he was nuts. "That was a Medal of Honor pin!" he exclaimed. The interviewer bolted out of his chair, ran out of the office, caught up to the interviewee, apologized profusely, and offered him the job.

That's the proper reaction to any Medal of Honor winner, and to Senator Inouye's death. R.I.P.

On a completely different point, is it too much to ask that anyone who pontificates on the question of gun rights at least learn the correct meaning (or lack thereof) of words like "automatic," "semiautomatic," and "assault weapon?" Please?

Inherit the Earth

I spent yesterday afternoon and evening, and the wee hours of this morning (I got home after 1:00 AM), driving around the Judean Hills, delivering and monitoring polls for a primary election. Exhausting but interesting and instructional, not to mention that I wasn't doing it for Olam HaBa. At least one freaky and slightly disturbing fact was learned: Arabs and Jews can argue over the (vast, I've come to learn) West Bank all they want, but at the end of the day, when the silly humans are asleep, the real masters of the land come out: Felis Catus, in some feral version, I suppose. I mean, you're driving down a pitch-black, deserted road somewhere outside Hebron when suddenly a small furry thing that in a very different context would look cute on your sofa dashes across the road. Where do they come from? How do they survive? How do I resist the temptation to feed the cute kitten mewling in our garden?

So they won't feel left out, let me point out that wild dogs, donkeys (both pulling carts and carrying old Arabs), sheep, and camels were all spotted. The ones you really have to watch out for are the wild boar, but I didn't see any.

This morning I spotted a cool sign outside a branch of Steimatsky's, the book chain. (The original store, in fact, on Jaffa Road.) Translated, it read "There are people who simply feel compelled to read every sentence they see." I didn't get it at first (my psychologist better half informs me that this true from a psychological point of view, which is logical), until I realized that I was, indeed, reading it, despite the fact that it made no sense. Ha!

As to the other election, well, I see that I said this four years ago. Not sure I'd be as optimistic anymore, not that I was much back then. Instead, it's time to quote Herman Wouk again, once again on his grandfather:

What my grandfather would think if he knew that the awesome Guide for the Perplexed was available in a paper-bound English translation for less than two dollars, and that American college boys skimmed it in a weekend and wrote confident twenty-paged theses on it, I cannot imagine. My grandfather always retained the impression that America, at least the Jewish part he knew, was more or less mad.

Make that more. Much more. And especially Jews, but everyone else too.

I am left with Ben Hecht, writing of Malchiel Greenwald, probably standing just around that same Steimatsky's, just under fifty-nine years ago:

As is his daily habit, Malchiel has had a satisfactory conference with God in his synagogue. Whatever else you can say about Israel, it is a satisfactory thing to be able to stand in practically the same place in which your forefathers stood twenty-five hundred years ago and offer God unchanged hallelujahs.

Amen, Ben. That was me, this morning. (And, of course, you can say plenty of other good things about Israel as well.) I will admit that the One and teh gays [tm, sic, sick, whatever] were among the things that got me out of the US, but Israel pulled for much better reasons.

Herman Wouk on Simchat Torah

"...A powerful jubilation irradiates the synagogue. The time comes when the rabbi is himself drawn into the rejoicing and solemnly dances with a Holy Scroll in his arms. My grandfather, patriarchal and reserved all year long, was still performing this dance in his nineties, a few shuffling, tottering steps, his face alight with pleasure as he clasped the Torah in his old arms."

No Violin This Time

A few (apparently, a very few) secular types protested yesterday against Israel's moving the clock back last night. Of course, the US and other countries have being steadily extending Summer Time, so that Israel has now done so about a month and a half before then.

Being in sync with other Western nations (kind of an odd thing to assert, considering that Israel is in the same time zone as none of them) seems to be a major point for the protestors, to which I respond, so what? If the rest of the world is going to be ridiculous, must Israel follow along? Mostly unmentioned, of course, is how inconvenient the late change is to those who daven every morning. Call me parochial, but yes, I think Israel should care about such things.

Of course, that's another sore point for the protestors: The fact that Yom Kippur figures into these calculations. Well, again, tough. Israel is a Jewish state. There are lots of compromises on all sides; this (and even allowing for Pesach, as is currently not the case) seems like a trifle compared to others. (And yes, I know it's still 25 hours. But the early end has at least a psychological effect.)

But really, I have one irony to comment on: If I had to bet, I'd say that most if not all of these protestors are the usual suspect leftist "Occupy Rothschild" types, the types that are just fine with government intervention. Well, they've got their government intervention, in the form of regulating time itself. Now they can have it, as the man (Kingsley Amis?) said to the woman on the bus. (Of course, being good leftists, they think that government is the one perfect thing and are thus quite frustrated without really knowing why. You put your very time in the hands of an imperfect institution, you see what happens.)

I, as a mostly-good libertarian, think the whole thing is nonsense and should be abolished. So I can complain as much as I want, except I don't have cause to here specifically. Smiles for me, no violins at all for them. (Little-known fact: Timezones, as opposed to daylight time, were a private initiative. They weren't needed before the telegraph and railroad were invented; the train companies needed them and instituted them.)

One more thing: When the Pope removed ten days from the calendar in 1582, lots of ignorant peasants were upset, as they actually believed he'd taken ten days off their lives. (The accountants were upset for more rational reasons.) Newsflash: He didn't, and he government isn't taking an hour of your sunlight- especially when, as here, they are restoring "normal" time.

Marc Shapiro, mentioned in the early days of this blog, just sent me a book. He's the best!

Well, the conference of the Non-Aligned Movement is coming up. It's being held in Iran, and it's going to be a hoot. First, the whole idea of the NAM is a Cold War relic, a pro-Soviet farce, if I may be so bold. Naturally, the UN Secretary General will be attending, a happy guest of the mullahs and Ol' Squinty. Finally, Doctor-of-Holocaust-Denial Abbas is all upset, as the Hamas Prime Minister has been invited to attend on behalf of the fictional state of "Palestine," which, natch, is a long-standing member of the NAM. Abbas would like you to know, echoing the hackneyed official UN phrase from many decades back, that "the PLO [remember them?] is the sole legitimate representative of the Palestinian people." (Oh, we rightists used to hate that line. Now that the alternative is Hamas...)

Well, technically, he's correct, as I assume that in usual international bureaucratic fashion, the UN has never actually repealed or amended that resolution. But Abbas seems to have forgotten that he's not only the head of Fatah and the PLO, but of the Palestinian Authority and the aforementioned "state." (This is forgivable, as the actual differences between any of these, at least on the West Bank, are minimal to nonexistent.) I imagine they thought they were being clever (or at least doing what was required) when they had themselves admitted to all these international organizations as a state and not an organization. Now that he has no real legitimate authority, Abbas has decided to time travel back to 1964. That sound? The world's smallest violin.

My cousin Zev Eleff has a very good piece up at Jewish Action. One line, though, struck my eye: After describing Abraham Karp's research for his famous article about New York's attempt to have a chief rabbi, Zev writes that the papers Karp used subsequently disappeared.

This fed into a silly idea I once had: It seemed to me that every single mention of the chief rabbi debacle in any scholarly article referenced Karp's piece, and only Karp's piece. It led to my wondering whether it was possible that Karp made the whole thing up. Impossible, I know: There has to be other evidence out there. I know, on a logical basis, that I have to be wrong and, as I said, the idea is silly. But that almost throwaway comment in the Eleff article doesn't make it any easier to concede to the logic. :-)

Random thought

This may have occurred to me before, but I noticed something interesting when saying Maariv Friday night: Hashkivenu lists "plague, sword, famine" among the things we ask to have prevented. I wonder if there's any connection, direct or not, to the fact that that's (according to some readings) three of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Awesome

So some years back, I went out to San Diego on a business trip. (Check my archives for photos.) A bunch of lawyers, often sitting in one big room together.

Just that week is when Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes began dating, or got engaged, or something. In the course of the media crush, Holmes was quoted as saying (adopt Hollywood starlet voice) "I think Scientology is awesome." ("Ah-some.") We (the San Diego crew) had a good chuckle over that one. We'd be sitting around, each quietly doing our own work, when someone would suddenly pipe up, apropos of nothing, "I think Scientology is awesome." It never failed to crack us up.

Almost seven years have passed, and in all that time, until this day, my brain has maintained a Pavlovian response to the word. All I have to hear is the word "awesome" in any context, and I automatically say, aloud, "I think Scientology is awesome." Then comes the explanation, and, to this day, it never fails to amuse. Not long ago I was explaining it to someone in the Mamilla Mall elevator; the doors opened up and we found ourselves face-to-face with a huge poster of Katie Holmes as model for H. Stern jewelery. Now that's awesome.

And now my personal meme has outlived that relationship. Well, in all sincerity to Ms. Holmes, I wish her (and her daughter) all the best. I suppose I should feel bad for using her as a punchline all these years, but hey, Hollywood is supposed to entertain us, and their wacky religious beliefs always help. At least we still have Mr. Cruise to kick around.

A New Theory by Anne Elk

So I guess I'm using Facebook for my little Israel tidbits now. Head on over there to see 'em...

On Shabbat, I was looking for something entirely different in the Encyclopaedia Judaica (which I got for free- long and cute story), and came across the entry for "Salome." Something in her biography didn't seem quite right, so I checked out the family tree- a whole page- under "Herod." Wow, is it complicated. All sorts of successive marriages, marriages to half-uncles and cousins, and more- did you know that some of Herod's descendants were kings of Armenia? Weird. Of course, a marriage forbidden by halakha (to a brother-in-law) is actually at the center of the whole Salome story (and, of course, the play by Wilde, who made things even, ahem, weirder).

But it got me thinking: The family tree of Esav, at the end of Parshat VaYishlach, is pretty complicated, with various names repeating in different places or taking others' positions and so on. One explanation (I can think of other possibilities) Chazal and the Meforshim give is that there was so much adultery and incest going on, everything got mixed up.

Now, as is well known, "Edom" is frequently identified with Rome in Chazal. I once heard a rather convincing shiur that attempted to give a historical backing for this using Roman history, but it still seems a bit farfetched. It had previously occurred to me that one basis of this identification may be that Herod was, literally, an Edomite (or at least Idumean, which is likely the same thing), and his close personal, political, and historical connections with Rome may have led Chazal to make this identification.

Now I see another layer added: We know that the Gemara often, and for obvious reasons, substitutes Biblical names for current events- Nebuchadnezzar stands in for some Roman emperor, for example, logically enough. Could it be that the explanation of the problems in Esav's line (also) serves as a not-so-subtle commentary on Herod's? It makes sense to me... (Of course, the Roman rulers had their own issues in this area.)

Now I begin the clock for someone to tell me that some paper written sixty years ago makes the same point, and has been debated since. It's happened before.

HaYom...

Early Friday afternoon, my lovely spouse and I were walking home through the secure zone outside the Prime Minister's official residence, almost right next door to us. (It's the large blurred-out area on Google Street View.) We noticed that the guards- Prime Minster's guards, a Border Police SUV with a couple of female cops inside, others- were converging toward the end of zone, and saw that they were gathered around a man in a black hat and jacket with a long white beard. He was holding up a sign- a laminated standard-sized piece of paper.

At first we thought he was demonstrating against something (there are always at least a few in the area), except they don't allow them that close. Efrat joked that he was looking for a "tremp" (hitchhikers often hold up signs showing where they want to go) and couldn't figure out why there were no cars around. :-) Then, as we got closer, we saw the word "שבעה" (seven) on the card and thought it had something to do with the fact that the Netanyahu was sitting shiva for his father (albeit in his father's house, a few blocks away).

Turns out it was none of the above. The card read "היום שבעה ועשרים יום, שהם שלשה שבועות וששה ימים לעומר". The man was leading all of the guards in reciting it out loud, and they were all enthusiastically joining in the counting of the Omer. As we passed, he gestured to us with the sign, but we smiled broadly and told him we'd counted the night before.

I think the best part is the huge smiles that break out on the faces of everyone we repeat the story to.

Have a great Pesach Sheni, Lag B'Omer, and rest of Sefirah, all!

The hike was *so* worth it.

Nice view, no? We were standing near the top of the tel at Beit She'an, in northern Israel. Beit She'an is especially known for its Roman and Byzantine ruins, but its history and antiquities go back much, much, further. But that's not the best part of this shot. Here are some closeups:

That's what's on the left of the first photo: The oldest part of the city, from about 7,000 years ago.

 

And that's what's on the right of the first photo- the mall of modern Beit She'an, whose most prominent sign is...well, imagine some Canaanite king millennia ago:

"O prophet, tell me of the future of this place."

"I see...I see...two glorious golden arches!"

Yup, it's a McDonald's. My camera can't quite capture it, but, yeah, you can see them at the same time.

Plug: I highly recommend the felafel place next door to the mall. And Kibbutz Shluchot, down the road, where we spent Shabbat.

More pictures to follow, I hope.

March Comes In

Oh, my, yes, like a lion. In addition to all the lovely snow and blessed rain, Jerusalem looked for a while like an umbrella graveyard. Yesterday, Ramot Shlomo- including "770"- was completely invisible, in the fog, from Har Hotzvim.

Har Hotzvim is basically just across the road from Ramot, and yesterday I took a bus to Givat Shaul after work. Maybe a quarter of an hour, all told, and that wasn't even the most direct route. Beforehand, my spouse pointed out to me that I was following the end of this past Shabbat's haftarah- Shmuel goes home to Ramot, and Shaul goes home to Givat Shaul. It's struck me previously that the text presents this as quite a distance- as if (as it seems to have turned out), they were never going to see each other again. Now? A short trip.

(It is true that modern place names don't always match- but then, what was "Givat Shaul" back then was possibly even closer to Ramot than today's.)

Today, I got one of those "loving living here" moments as I walked into the office building. Hanging from the rafters were balloons of all sorts of characters- Winnie the Pooh, Mickey and Minnie, and others. Various offices are decorated for Purim, and I (and the woman following me) had a huge smile as I ascended the stairs. Happy Purim!

One of my favorite activities is finding interesting juxtapositions in newspapers- articles where the editors clearly did not (and had no reason to) realize how funny and/or ironic the two appear when viewed together. In fact, one of my two letters in the New York Times was based on that very concept.

With that in mind, I present, without comment, two headlines from today's English Haaretz. They appear right next to each other on the first page, below the fold:

Supreme Court to rule on Palestinian hunger striker

Israeli cabinet supports involuntary hospitalization of anorexia patients 

To which I can only say, "Ha!"

By the way, speaking of Haaretz (it's my better half who pays for it, before you ask- I personally can't wait for them to go under, and I suspect she can't either), one thing I love (not) is the way they present stories as if the point is just so obvious they don't have to spell their outrage out. Witness:

Education Ministry school program presents Gush Katif as the epitome of Zionism

It's pretty obvious that the newspaper's intention is that we get the vapors and reach for the smelling salts. My reaction, of course, is "BOO-YA!"

Peace out, friends.

"Jackie Treehorn treats objects like women, man!"

"How's the smut business, Jackie?"

“I wouldn’t know, Dude. I deal in publishing, entertainment, political advocacy.”

“What one was 'Logjammin'?”

“Regrettably, it’s true. Standards have fallen in adult entertainment."

Ben Gazzara, RIP.

During Pesukei D'Zimra today, a young man came in with a Sephardi Sefer Torah- the ornate kind in a wooden box, heavily decorated in silver. They put it in the Aron, and then took it out later for keriyat  hatorah. The gabbai announced that it's a very old Sefer- another man said over two hundred years old- that was captured in the Old City by the Jordanians in 1948. King Abdullah (great grandfather of the current King Abdullah) then gave it back after someone told him it was bad luck to take a Sefer Torah, and it is on display in the museum upstairs from the Beit Knesset (in Heichal Shlomo). Once a year they take it down to layn from it. Isn't that nice?

Elementary

And a Happy New Year! Not really celebrated by the two of us, but I did take in a showing of the new Sherlock Holmes movie Saturday night. (I suppose a good sign you've been here for a while is seeing both the original and sequel in the same theater.)

So I walk into the cinema lobby and, lo and behold, the computers are down. No tickets are being sold. (Of course, they didn't start screenings until it was sorted out.) "World's leading software developer," someone in the crowd said sardonically.

This is, indeed, true. And as the crowd grew and the minutes ticked on, one by one, people in the crowd- men, women, religious, secular, young, old- stepped forward to volunteer their services to get the system up and running again. Israel's really gone the hi-tech route, hasn't it?

For whatever reason, they did not take advantage. Eventually, all of us who'd bought tickets online (the vending machine was down too, of course) were told to go in to the theater in a sort of honor system; everyone else got paper tickets, and the movie started a bit late. But oh, so worth it. And if that wasn't enough Sherlockian goodness (since I'm on the UK side of the pond, should that be "Holmesian?"), the new season- whoops, series- of Sherlock premiered yesterday! Whoo-hoo!

Yeah, it doesn't take too much to excite me, not that these weeks aren't exciting enough for other reasons. Laterz!

Grunberg Update

Sure enough, he was at the Kotel Friday night, dancing up a storm with a large group of Tzanchanim and saying Kabbalat Shabbat with them. Hope he enjoyed his trip.

Edited to add: See here.

OK, a bit less spiritual this time...

This month is "Chamshushalayim," when there are special events throughout the city every weekend. More to the point, there are deals in the restaurants, so I, Mrs. Lammpost, and a friend went out to paint the town red. After a few false leads, we had a great dinner and then decided to have "afters" in another place, an almost literal hole in the wall with a French theme that serves, it is said, the best hot chocolate in town. (This is true.)

So we go in and order hot chocolate and sort of order a waffle (don't ask; it's Israel). And who should walk in the door, entourage in tow, but Greg frickin' Grunberg. GREG GRUNBERG! Also known as frummed-out Sean Blumberg of Felicity, as Houdini descendant Eric Weiss on Alias, as Jim Kirk's stepfather (scene deleted) in Trek XI, as topless Titans fan number three in Goldmember, as typecast lovable Jewish schlub in just about every role that calls for it, especially if it's Bad Robot, as the favorite actor of lovable Jewish schlubs (e.g., moi) the world over. Man, my college buddies and I loved him back in the day. Still do. And here he was, in J-town, eating a waffle side by side with me, talking about how great Israel is. I was hooting all the way home. The lovely spouse and friend did not- brace yourselves- even know who he was. So I turn to Facebook and my blog for some companionship here. Anyone?

Experiences

I don't think I'm very prone to them, but every now and then I get hit my an experience that really gets to me. Perhaps because I live here, or perhaps because it is a font of experiences, these usually have something to do with being in Israel.

A few months back, I visited Hebron for the first time, for a conference. (I've been to next-door Kiryat Arba a few times, but not Hebron.) The conference was right next door to the Cave of Machpela, which, of course, I'd never seen before. From a physical point of view, it's an amazing structure on its own, built by Herod. But then, after the conference, we had a few minutes before the buses left, so I headed up to the Me'arah. It was closed, and as a kohein I wouldn't have gone in anyway, but the experience of just standing right in front of it suddenly hit me with a wave of emotion. I'm there! The burial place of the forefathers of our nation! I'm in Israel! Wow. I go to the Kotel all the time and have been up to the Har HaBayit quite a few times, but never felt anything like that. Why? Not 100% sure.

Last Motzai Shabbat, I davened Maariv in the Great Synagogue. Afterward, we said Kiddush Levana, and did that little dance afterwards. Now, I've done that every month for decades. And yet, here, again, I suddenly felt the place and the experience enter me. Again, don't ask me why, but there I was, in Yerushalayim, singing and dancing, and...wow.

Last night, I led Maariv after the latest rehearsal for HMS Pinafore. (Do come! It's going to be a great show.) Our rehearsal space is in Talpiot, in south Jerusalem, and it randomly occurred to me that we were facing more north than east, something you never think about outside of Israel (mostly). It didn't really hit me, though, until Mincha of today, in the office of a major international accounting firm located across the hall from where I work. There, too, I considered how we should be facing southeast instead of straight east...and the idea that I'm close enough to the Makom HaMikdash for this to matter suddenly hit me. Amazing, isn't it?

I suppose it's the busiest months when I post the least! Rehearsals, work, setting up the new home...and no time for ol' Blogger! Still, as I've written earlier, I try to do at least once a month, lest I risk messing up the index.

I must write about Pat Dolan, whose memorial is tonight in Queens. Like everyone I spoke to, I was shocked by the news of her tragic death. I even submitted a bit to read at the memorial if possible. (I served on the board of the Civic Association- see that link for a nice memory.) Let me just say here that she was the most dedicated of people, working selflessly for the community, not accepting excuses when people tried to argue for special treatment for "their" group. (V'hamevin yavin.) I remember her being particularly upset and offended when people accused her of- yes, I'll say it- anti-Semitism when she was merely trying to have decent laws applied. (Little did they know that appealing to her Irish Catholic background had no effect either.) She had not an ounce of (undeserved) hatred in her, and had much commitment to all. She will be sorely missed; RIP.

More later, I hope! Happy Chaf-Tet!

Welcome home, Gilad!

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Some rabbi made a big to-do when, speaking at Baruch Goldstein's funeral, he stated that a thousand Arabs are not worth one Jewish fingernail.

But in demanding a thousand prisoners for one Jew (or sometimes only bodies), aren't the Arabs basically conceding the same?

Yeah, I know, I'm being a bit fatuous. But what else can you do when faced with such madness and evil?

Ah well. Hope it all goes well tomorrow. The medical interns have already set up a protest "succah" (sans s'chach) next to the Shalit tent. At least the Shalits didn't extend so far out into the sidewalk...

The other day, walking home from shacharit, I saw that someone had painted the peace symbol, in bright blue graffiti, in two different places on the walls of the Kings Hotel.

I was already grumbling when I passed one more "tag": The Hebrew word for "revolution", in the same exact shade of blue, on yet another wall.

It must be nice being able to define all terms, so you can be in favor of "peace" and revolution at the same time. Oh, and be a vandal yet be celebrated as an "artist" by the New York Times.

This is one of a series of videos in which Leonard Nimoy, speaking to a Star Trek convention, looks back on his life. Fascinating and funny- follow the links to watch the whole thing.

The funniest bit, for me? He's recounting a scene in Wrath of Khan and says, "Kirk says, 'Scotty, if we don't have warp speed in four minutes, we're all dead.'" And you can hear a fan distinctly say (correctly) "Three."

I love Trekkies. (One myself, of course.)

I liked this piece- I actually know the author, somewhat. I absolutely loved this line, though:

There are some presidents and prime ministers from other countries who have said things like “Israel has the right to defend itself.” No, it doesn’t. Israel does not have the right to defend itself. It has the m*********ing obligation to defend itself.

I actually always liked it when said presidents and prime ministers would say that. Now I realize how they are (inadvertently, I'm sure, and much as I'm still grateful) buying into the other side's narrative just by bringing it up. It occurs to me that the United States Constitution actually confers no rights- look it up. They are assumed to exist. To say they do is already accepting the argument that they might not.

Friday was my aliyah-niversary, and it would have passed unnoticed if not for a Facebook comment by my fiancee. (I usually remember the Hebrew date.) I rode the light rail! Let's retroactively say that was a celebration. What was so funny was how blase all the riders were, on day one.

Oh, yes, I said "fiancee". For those of you who know me only through this blog (right), the wedding is in two weeks. Whoo-hoo!!!!!

"Reality-based"

So let me get this clear:

1. You arrive in the US illegally as a child, live there many years, achieve fame (or not). Then you reveal your status. We're all supposed to feel bad and change our views on, well, that little ol' thing called the "law" because of that and acclaim you a true-blue American.

2. You arrive in the US as a child (legally? who knows), grow up there, never really know your country of origin. You commit a heinous crime and are sentenced to death. Time comes for execution fifteen (!!) years later, and suddenly you "discover" that you're not an American and you (and both the Mexican and US [!!!, sadly but not suprisingly] governments) start demanding all sorts of rights based on that.

His last words, of course (thank God Texas doesn't buckle under to pressure), are in praise of the country he never lived in.

Does...not...compute...

Full disclosure: I'm a (legal) dual citizen myself. But I'm not demanding any sort of special treatment. Nor am I (case one) lying or (case two) murdering, it goes without saying.

Edited to add: For another example of non-computing in this case, see here.

I love this country

The biggest news story in Israel over the last few days has been- I kid you not- the high price of cottage cheese. I have yet to make up my mind whether this is a Good Thing (maybe we really don't have anything else to worry about?) or a Bad Thing (are we whistlin' past the cemetery?).

Or maybe Israelis just really like their dairy products.

As to the issue itself, I don't even like cottage cheese (the word is the same in Hebrew, by the way), so I'd be pretty disappointed if, say, the government fell over this. (Hey, governments have fallen for a lot less- and stayed in power despite a lot more.)

"Christians."

Many moons ago, I applied to the United States Navy JAG Corps. I was interviewed at their recruiting center in lower Manhattan by an officer, while another sat at his desk on the other side of the office, his back towards us- i.e., for purposes of this story, he couldn't see my kippa.

Among other questions, Lt. Rock (short for his long Germanic name) asked me a bunch about drug and alcohol use, and my answers were pretty bland- very little drinking, never used hard drugs, never smoked pot. At the last, I distinctly heard the other officer mutter to himself, in a deprecatory tone, "Christian." (He meant it in the way, well, Christians do- as a born-again type.)

That story just popped into my head. (As I mopped the floor, in fact.) For the last few days, I've been agog at the anguish some are going through about Bin Laden's death and the subsequent reaction. (I am not at all agog at the bang-up way the White House has been handling the aftermath. Can't anybody here play this game?) At first, it was the Catholics over at NRO, so my first (unposted there) thought was, "Thank God I'm Jewish." Then it was a few lefty Jews, but I expect nothing more from their ilk. But then it was the all-so-sophisticated Orthodox intelligentsia, the feel-good-sensitive-non-Zionist MO and RWMO types, and finally, I am reduced to saying, "Christians."

Back to mopping.

Spring is bustin' out

Yes, we're rehearsing Carousel now.

But it *is* coming, by gum. The first day of Spring was last week, Daylight Time began this morning in Israel, it's the first day of April, tomorrow is Shabbat Mevorchim Nisan, etc. And the weather is finally getting warmer and glorious. I went to the Botanical Garden today for an art opening and enjoyed very much, but who has to go that far? Here's the view out our side window:
If you look closely, you may be able to see the bees.

Yesterday, I attended a shiur, and the speaker mentioned the famous story about the Beit HaLevi and the four cups of milk. It took me a few seconds to realize that the speaker (a Lichtenstein) was, in fact, a great-great-great grandson of the Beit HaLevi (and so many others). I've always wondered how British royals felt in history class when great-grandpa came up; here was a living example of that.

A man who knows what he wants

There's been this man standing in front of the Great Synagogue in Jerusalem since at least the mid-1990's (to my personal knowledge), soliciting alms. (He reminds me of Epictetus.) I doubt I've given him more than a few agorot these past fifteen or sixteen years. Yesterday being Purim, and having a few shekels from a friend to distribute besides, I finally gave him a nice amount. He immediately put his arm around me and asked for a thousand. :-) Happy post-Purim, all.

Adar

With (an early) Ta'anit Esther coming up tomorrow, and what with the horrific events of last Shabbat in the news, I had a memory of my junior year in college, Purim time 1996. This was the height of the Oslo madness and the Muslims, as they tend to do, sensed a weak horse and responded accordingly. (Like their Nazi predecessors and once allies, they also have a perverse way of picking just the "right" date on the Jewish calendar for their atrocities.) Five attacks (almost all within the "Green Line," but haters of all stripes are gonna hate) in less than ten days resulted in sixty deaths. Two on February 25; one on the 26th; one on March 3 (on the same bus line as the second attack), one on the 4th. The last was in Tel Aviv, on Ta'anit Esther itself. I recall that a bunch of the casualties were kids in costume.

Ah, how quickly we forget...

For that fast day's mincha, the entire school met in the main auditorium (not the usual practice). Rabbi Norman Lamm, then-president, spoke briefly about the inability to say anything appropriate when things like this happen, and how we, like all those generations before us, can just say Tehillim and let them speak to us. And so we did, before the tefilla itself. My school, Yeshiva University, like many Jewish institutions, has a major chagiga the night of Purim. (Remarkably, for all its spirit, there's no alcohol involved.) The student organizations who arrange it had a meeting and decided not to cancel. They did decide that there would be no band, and the band they'd hired agreed to back out and not even charge anything. Interestingly, I think it was the most energetic and joyous chagiga I'd ever seen at the school. I guess that's how a people like the Jews has to react. I just told this story to someone who was in Israel then, and I was told that's pretty much what happened here as well.

At the end of the chagiga, R' Mordechai Willig, one of the leading Roshei Yeshiva, took out his guitar, the first musical instrument of the night. He sat down, and we all sat on the floor around him, as he played slowly and meaningfully and we joined in singing. That's not something that leaves you. Here's looking forward, despite all, to a happy and healthy Purim.

It must be a good place...

We had to wait a bit for a table tonight, and so sat at the bar in the meantime. My companion noted that the two men sitting next to me were obviously bodyguards, so we started scanning the room for important-looking people. It was only as we walked to our table when I saw him: Avigdor Lieberman, the Foreign Minister, seated a few feet away with a small group, enjoying his dinner. Wow.

"As long as they don't make it compulsory."

That was the old line about tolerating gays. (Itself no longer an acceptable option.) Increasingly, it's beginning to look less and less funny. See this very troubling story- one is longer allowed to even deviate from the party line (whatever it is) without being beaten into submission. I still have my inch, I hope. (And yes, I realize the irony of that reference. The [supposedly] persecuted have, as might be expected in this case, become the persecutors.)

"And, although his methods may be difficult for environmentalists to accept..."

See, stuff like this is what (deservedly) gives enviro-whackos a bad name. It's hard me to accept that the phrasing in the title of this post is entirely tongue-in-cheek. "May be"? Excuse me? It's almost like they approve. See all those "Life After People" type shows and books for examples of their fantasies. (List at the bottom here.)

And then comes Momma Nature to remind us that what we do means diddly squat in the long run. :-) Maybe not this time, but there was once a very frightening illustration of this in National Geographic. (Although I'll admit I didn't quite see it right the first time, perhaps because of how they presented it.)

Meanwhile, the One doesn't really seem to care, which is here, as elsewhere, the main feature of his and both our salvation as well as the danger. (Of course, wouldncha know it's all the GOP's fault, as always.)

Apropos of nothing- or maybe so- I think the way someone responds to this story (I can think of two main possibilities) would tell you most of what you need to know about their views.

"Royale With Cheese."

The statistics here are actually encouraging. (The prices, not too much.) (H/T Gil.) It was just last night, at a shiur, that someone mentioned that combination of kosher meat and cheese at non-kosher Israeli McDonald's actually may make them worse than the equivalent outside of Israel. So here we see that cheeseburgers aren't even advertised and barely ever served, and that 70% of (secular?!) Israelis want kosher meat, and only 5% davka want non-kosher (whatever that means).

What's interesting that (most) Jerusalem locations aren't kosher. (In fact, it's the last non-kosher place on the eatery-heavy Emek Refaim.) I think that may be the tourist trade, though.

Not ideal, of course, but a very good sign, I think. One commenter on that article wonders if it's really about being open on Shabbat. Based on this, I wouldn't be surprised if that was a big factor.

“Make Mine a Courvoisier!”

OK, this story may well be what is technically called "untrue." But it's one of my favorite Kennedy stories nonetheless. (Come to think, that's two Kennedy stories in a row.)

The late Sargent Shriver is running for Vice-President alongside George McGovern, 1972. He walks into a bar full of working stiffs in Ohio and, perhaps coached by Tip O'Neill, accompanying him, says, "Beers on me!" Everyone cheers, but Shriver continues to the bartender, “Make Mine a Courvoisier!” At that point, it is said, O'Neill realizes the election is over and gets on a plane back to Massachusetts.

R.I.P.

Random musings

No wonder Cracked has been running pieces of late about how Islam ain't so bad after all. Another one bites the dust...it's still pretty good, though.

Well, a new Congress, and, in a historical note, the first time since 1947 that there hasn't been an elected Kennedy in Washington (or anywhere else, I think- even Arnold is gone). Wouldn't be so bad if it would stay that way.

Things That Make You Go "Hmmm!"

Yes, I know it's a complicated subject, and the speaker may have just been quoting others, and that this is his style, and that YU, to its great credit and benefit, is home to many different views and voices. But the rationalist in me cringed just a bit when I heard this line in a shiur- a very good shiur, don't get me wrong- on YUTorah:

...the commentators say that perhaps the source of the Rambam is the Zohar...

I'm thinking of Walter Sobchak for some reason:

...You see, it all goes back to the concept of "aish." Many learned men have disputed this over the centuries, but in the Fourteenth Century, the Rambam...he...

Later in the shiur, he says, when discussing the Hebron Yeshiva,

...unfortunately it was challenged by the riots of 1929...

Well, that's certainly one way of putting it. (Link not for the tender-hearted.) I always liked the way Meir Kahane put it in "Never Again". After describing the riots, he adds, parenthetically, "(The white flags came out quickly in Hebron in 1967.)"

Kerens

Not sure how funny this one is, but it made me smile. I'm about to cross Ramban Street at Kikar Paris (thanks for the jelly doughnut, Chabad of Rechavia!) when I hear to girls talking English next to me:

"I think we turn here."

"No, this is Ramban."

I'm about to offer help when one turns to me: "S'licha..."

Well, at least I can pass for an Israeli physically, at least to foreigners. In English: "Yes?"

"Where's Keren Kayemet?"

"Up that way, to the left," pointing behind us.

"Whoops! OK, I'm embarrassed."

They turn around and head up. I start wondering if, in fact, they wanted Keren HaYesod, which is in front of us. Sure enough, a few seconds later, they're back.

Me: "You're sure you didn't want Keren HaYesod?"

"OK, we're lost. She said it's by a bank...King George becomes it?"

"Yep, that's Keren HaYesod. Right ahead."

They thank me and head off. Too bad I didn't have a chance to tell them the ridiculous historical reason why there are two easily-confused streets so close to each other- it may have made them (and me) feel better. (In short, the Keren HaYesod [United Israel Appeal, in charge of foreign fundraising] was jealous that the Keren Kayemet [Jewish National Fund, in charge of land buying] had a street named after it, and by the building which they share. So they cut off the end of King George and named it after them. Or so the story goes.)

Apparently, someone left a stack of old sefarim on top of our shul's sheimot box yesterday. So one of the gabbaim told me, because by Mincha today, there were only two, a very old and cover-less standard folio size volume of Shulchan Aruch and a play of Shakespeare's. I told him it reminded me of the Cairo Geniza, where people apparently put anything written in Hebrew, thinking it was holy, and so we got (quite valuable, from a historical perspective) shopping lists and the like. (Of course, the Rav used this to criticize even halakhic works found there and elsewhere, but that's another story.)

Anyway, my bookshelf is now graced by an Israeli Hebrew translation of A Midsummer Night's Dream from the early 1940's. Nice. Perhaps one day it will stand next to my Klingon Hamlet.

The things you learn...

Yitz Greenberg and Meir Kahane were BTA classmates. Maybe nothing deep, but the article on the left side here is wild, considering. Keep flipping through (or go back a year) to read more interesting stuff. And giant kudos to YU for putting the whole archive up. Valuable in so many ways.

Ah-CHA-A!!

OK, here's another:

Waiting on line at a good Schwarma place on the Midrachov last night (before you start tsking, it was the first schwarma I had since Pesach time, and I think the first eating out I did in a long time), a religious couple, clearly from out of town, started asking about the hekhsher. (By this post, I by no means mean to belittle them- checking to make sure of such things is sadly neglected these days in the Land.) Sorry, but there'd be no real point to a translation here, so sorry for the rough transcription. Oh, and see if you can guess the source of the title above.

One of the countermen begins answering, "Rabbanut Hashgacha..."

The couple is insistent: "Rak haRabbanut?"

"Lo, Mehadrin Yerushalayim."

"Ma zeh 'Mehadrin'?"

"Mehadrin zeh...ha-ki tov, haelyon."

"Ken? Aifo haTeuda?"

The counterman begins looking around behind the counter, can't find it there, then realizes it's actually behind them, at the door. He points to it, the couple turns to read it. They're a bit satisfied. But then the man turns back.

"Aval ha'im zeh chalak? Aifo katuv she-ze chalak?"

A pause. The counterman ponders this. Then his face lights up.

"Ah! Avel ze hodu, ze lo basar!"

Another pause as it sinks in to the couple that despite common usage, there ain't no such thing as a glatt kosher turkey, and the counterman isn't so unlearned after all. Defeated- or, more likely, satisfied, they duly place their orders. And so do I. Yum.

By coincidence, a friend just emailed me a teshuva from Menashe haQoton (hey, it's what he calls himself) assur-ing all such foods. I promptly wrote back that I now feel pretty good that I unknowingly had some last night- if he says it's bad, it's a pretty good sign that the good Lord approves. (Ah, I had it phrased so nicely. Durn non-saved sent messages.)

By the way, I finally visited the Islamic Art Museum (see here) today. I'm not sure if I've posted this before- I first visited it in the mid-90's, and was especially impressed with their (non-Islamic) clock collection. Then last year, I discovered that half of the clocks had been stolen way back in 1983, and I was only seeing a part of the collection. They recovered almost all of them a few years ago, and...they are magnificent. Well worth a visit. The rest of the museum is pretty good as well.

French Accent

It's been a while since my last "street encounter" posting. So here's a new one, once again translated from the Hebrew for your (and my) convenience:

I'm walking down Jaffa Street minding my own business (coming back from this event) when a group of young folk stop me and ask if I can explain a "joke" for them. (The Hebrew word can have a few translations.) They show me a small card on which is written, in Hebrew, "Holyland [the English word written in Hebrew, which is a long story in and of itself involving bribery and an eyesore- don't ask] in Latin, with a French accent." This was apparently some sort of scavenger hunt, and they wanted to know where it was.

Me: "Um...sorry, I don't think I know. Sounds like the Old City. Sorry!"

They: "That's OK, no problem! Thanks!"

We walk on. I go a few meters, still mulling it over, when it suddenly pops into my head. I turn around and run up to them, calling for their attention.

Me: "Holyland in Latin is Terra Sancta! Terra Sancta is a monastery, on French Square, at the end of King George Street! Holy Land, Latin, French!"

They, giving me a blank look for a second: "French Square? You mean Paris Square?"

D'oh! I must be the only person in Israel who refers to it by its proper name. That would have been too easy. Me: "Paris Square, that's right."

They, after checking a map: "Yay!" General cheering and pumping of fists. I walk away with my usual post-street encounter huge grin.

You gotta love the way Shaffer (of National Review) reacts here (Paladino is running for governor of New York):

SHAFFER: Cuomo published an editorial in the New York Daily News acting like he will be a small-government, tough-on-unions type. Is that believable?

PALADINO: Ever been to the zoo?

SHAFFER: Yes.

PALADINO: Ever seen the zebra in the zoo?

SHAFFER: Yes.

PALADINO: Ever seen the zebra change stripes?

SHAFFER: No.

PALADINO: I’ve got the same feeling about Cuomo.

HYD

When the news report said the victim led groups to the Har HaBayit, my antenna went up. Then I saw his picture. Yep.

Not much more to say apart from the obvious.

I'd been in the National Labor Court before, but hadn't noticed this: Cartoons on one wall illustrating various pesukim about treating your workers properly and statements from Chazal about the value of work. Nice.

Perhaps I'd be a little more sympathetic to this article if:

1. "Holocaust Memorial Day" in Europe wasn't picked on a day that glorifies the "glorious Red Army."

2. The crimes of Communism weren't ignored by most of the bien passants to this day.

Perhaps, but probably not.

You'd think the One would have learned a little humility after the BP disaster. But no, those with his kind of hubris never do.

So I'm walking back from the Post Office to the office today and pass the Museum of Islamic Art. (I've been planning to visit for a while for a few reasons- must get to that.) Sitting on a bench outside the "Residence" connected to it is a man eating his lunch. Translated from the Hebrew:

He: Just one question!

Me: OK...

He: This is the Islamic Museum, yes?

Me: Yes...

He: Do the Muslims have a "Museum of Judaism"?

Me, cracking up: In your dreams.

He: Only Jews are crazy enough to do this.

I laugh all the way back to the office.

Am I the only person who gets the irony in this Turkish embassy story? Armed Palestinian barges in, demands amnesty, shot by embassy security. And that's cool...but I wonder if no one thought of the flotilla. I must peruse some news sites when I have the time.

"Zere are no small coinzidences!"

Shabbat, 31 July, was my birthday on the Gregorian Calendar; today, 23 Av, is my birthday on the Hebrew one. (I see I share it with Gilad Shalit.) Shabbat was also Parshat Ekev, my Bar Mitzvah parsha, and I read it three times: At the 6:30 Ramban minyan, at Shir Chadash, and at the Late Late Minyan, where I also read the Haftarah. It went over well at each place, and I even got to say Birkat Kohanim two more times than usual. Well, on to Ohel Nechama in two weeks! And thanks to Rabbi Klein, my bar mitzvah rebbe, who made sure it didn't stop there!

After that was a very enjoyable lunch, with fellow Encore people among others. I'm really blessed to have found a good "chevre" here. They think I should audition to sing this time, can you imagine? (Come to think, my bar mitzvah rebbe is also a Gilbert and Sullivan fan- I used to run into him at performances in New York.)

Then Mincha at Shteiblach, and then I hosted this week's Seudah Shlishit for the "Shabbat Meals etc. Jerusalem" group. That, in fact, is another grand chevre I've fallen in with. (No easy link- look for them on Facebook!) Lots of people- thirty or forty- showed up- best of all, my sister, brother-in-law, and niece came at the beginning- and we all had a good time, good food, talk, zemirot, divrei Torah, and so on. I'm glad that the person who alerted me to the group (before I even made aliyah, via Facebook) was there so I could thank her- and the whole group- in my little talk; also there was the person who set me up with my apartment and roommate- also off of, you guessed it, Facebook (500 million members helps, eh?)- and I'm happy I was able to thank her as well. My d'var Torah focused on the parsha and its special ties to Eretz Yisrael, of course.

The day ended with a very enjoyable outing to one of the Waffle Bar locations, again with the Encore folk. But all that, while most pleasurable, proved not to be the most interesting part of the day.

At the first Torah reading of the day, I noticed something interesting- the mantle, the velvet cover of the Torah scroll, had an embroidered dedication to someone with the exact name of my brother-in-law (my other brother-in-law, the one in New York). It described the dedicatee as being deceased and the brother of the people who dedicated it. I saw the Hebrew equivalent of 1930 on the scroll's handles, but wasn't sure if the cover was of the same date or later- it's certainly looked to be about forty or more years old. I emailed my sister in New York on Sunday to see what was up.

Today, she wrote back to me. Her husband is named for his grandfather, who passed away in 1959. (The Torah cover could certainly have been fifty years old.) Right before World War II, he was able to get exit visas (from Germany, I believe) so his entire family- his siblings and their families- could get to Israel and survive. Of all of them, only he couldn't get a visa, and so he and his family (including his wife, his daughter, and his son, my sister's father in law) rode out the war in the Philippines. My sister says that it's entirely possible that his siblings dedicated the cover to him after he passed away. She has a family wedding this weekend and will inquire further. But wouldn't it be so cool if it was him?

And for the most amazing part? His birthday was August 3rd. Today.

Oh, Israel is full of amazing "coincidences." (Not long ago I was struck that a Torah cover in my "regular" shul was dedicated to someone from my paternal grandparents' hometown in Galicia.) But this one- especially if it pans out- is one of the biggies.

RIP

I'm a Met fan myself. But I remember a TV interview with Steinbrenner back during the '96 World Series (or maybe '98 or '99). The reporter was asking if he ever told the manager what to do during a game, but got a bit flustered between talking to George (Steinbrenner) and referring to Joe (Torre):

Interviewer: "So, do you ever call George and say..."

Steinbrenner, with a grin: "Call George? George who? Costanza?"

Interviewer, chucking: "Sorry, do you ever call Joe..."

That Steinbrenner took the whole Seinfeld thing in good humor was a sign, I think. He even filmed some scenes for the show, but they never aired, I've read because he felt that episode's plotline (the death of Susan) was a bit too harsh. The scenes were with Elaine, of all things- they're on the DVD.

Anyway, who knew he was a mensch? (Billy Martin might disagree, but he did go back four more times. And Steinbrenner did eventually make his way to Berra to make up.) Here are two stories:

From Billy Crystal.

From Daniel Foster.

I liked a line I saw yesterday: "He will forever be a defending World Series champion." RIP.

Kol HaKavod!

So we're walking down Derekh Bet Lechem tonight, relatively quiet and peaceful at that hour, and a bunch of soldiers passes us on the sidewalk. Diverse group- men, women, religious, secular, all different services and uniforms. On the other side of the street, a man is parking his car, and just as we're all passing between each other, he calls out, "Kol HaKavod L'Tzahal!" and all the soldiers let out a rousing cheer in response. I tell ya, it was something to be in the middle of. Kol HaKavod indeed.

Ugliness

This piece is incredible and disgusting. Melamed admits right up front that the haredim are simply discriminating against Sefaradiot, but then says (laughably) that everyone has to work to keep the government out of education. The article, of course, doesn't see fit to mention that he himself had a recent run-in over government recognition of his school; nor does it mention that in both cases, they want to have their cake and eat it too (i.e., that the government should recognize/fund them and yet allow them to do whatever they want).

Also troubling, of course, is the way that various groups see an obligation to defend the racists in this case just because they don't like other things the Supreme Court (or State) has done. Witness Arutz-7's refusal to condemn haredim for anything, or their constant use of "haredi-religious" to describe them.

By the way, I await with bated breath the day that haredim turn out to demonstrate for a Dati Leumi or Sefardi causes.

Yom Yerushalayim

Many years ago, I saw a book called "So Sorry We Won!", סליחה שניצחנו in the original Hebrew. It was published right after the Six-Day War and contained columns by Ephraim Kishon and cartoons by Dosh from that period. I remember one of the latter in particular, probably done right after the war: A very old man, with a long white beard, is sitting with a little boy on his knee. Spread out on his lap, the floor, the walls, are books and maps depicting the war, arrows showing how the Israeli forces swept here and there. And the little boy is saying, "Oh, come on, Grandpa! It couldn't have happened that way!" The grandfather, probably a veteran of the war, has a small smile on his face.

And here we are, the veterans of that war grandfathers or greater. I thought of that cartoon at the small "kibbud" we had after the shacharit chagigit this morning. One elderly mitpallel started talking about the miracles we experienced, leading our gabbai to reminisce about what it was like as a soldier in the weeks leading up to the war. Wow. It did happen that way, didn't it?

Et, tu, Abigail?

Abigail Thernstrom writes, regarding the Constitution:

Might the Three-Fifths Clause have been a wee bit of a defect?

This is a common meme among the race-hustlers. And, of course, it is quite simply wrong. The Three-Fifths Clause was meant to increase the rights of slaves and perhaps even help bring about the end of slavery (something that the document hints at elsewhere as well), not decrease them or declare them less than human, as is claimed. Not perfect, of course, but hardly what Thernstrom should be pointing to in order to make her point. (Come to think, I can't really think of something she can point to.) That a scholar of race relations can so glibly state this is troubling.

Remember the Commerce Clause?

Article I, Section 8, Clause 3 of the United States Constitution reads: [The Congress shall have power] "To regulate Commerce with foreign Nations, and among the several States, and with the Indian tribes". The original intent was clear, even if it isn't to the Left portion of the political spectrum, which neither knows what the Constitution is nor cares much about what it was intended to accomplish: The Constitution was written so as to create a stronger Union between the States; one fear was that states would set up trade barriers, tariffs, and so on at the borders to protect their own industry. Thus, Congress was given the exclusive power to do so, so that there would be complete free trade between the states. (I suppose the power was reserved to Congress for the rare instances in which regulations would have to be made, e.g. the blockade of the South during the Civil War, although I imagine most examples aren't all that drastic.)

The problem is, that clause has been much abused in pursuit of the increase in Federal power in the last hundred years or so, to the point that it has been completely removed from its original context. Namely, it has been read to give a positive power to Congress, such that Congress is said to have the power to regulate anything relating (however marginally) to commerce between states, a definition that, it has been seen, takes in pretty much all activity by anyone anywhere.

Well, this morning, thinking of how various cities have been talking of boycotting Arizona due to that state's eminently reasonable new immigration law, I got to wondering: Isn't this exactly what the Commerce Clause was designed to outlaw? Don't states have no power in this matter, and aren't they forbidden from discriminating against trade with other areas? I doubt Congress will rise to the occasion, but it seems to me like it would make a beaut of a Constitutional lawsuit. Just my two cents, from thousands of miles away.

"NY car bomb suspect cooperates, but motive mystery"

That's the AP headline. Lord save us all. (And from the likes of "Probably someone angry at the health care bill" Mike Bloomberg.)

"In sooth, then, faithful friend, this was a rug of value..."

Magnificent.

Kind of ironic that a Bill Ayers speech is monitored for bombs, eh?

Last night I visited Mosad Harav Kook, the famed research institution and publishing house, for their annual sale. It runs until next week, and I highly recommend it. A huge selection of great books, almost all from them, of course, at huge discounts. I managed to restrain myself and limited myself to what I came for. (OK, maybe just a bit more. But that was it.) There was a big and very diverse crowd browsing and buying.

In the lobby was someone selling the Bar Ilan Responsa Project, now on "disk on key." I think if you bought enough at the sale you got a discount. He had some monitors set up to demonstrate and greeted everyone coming in with an "Erev Tov" ("Good evening"), a flyer, and, presumably, a sales pitch if you stuck around. On my way out, he was still at it. A man in a black hat and suit came in:

Salesman: "Erev to..."

Customer, cutting him off and hurrying on: "Ain li mechashev." ("I don't own a computer.")

He was so abrupt I just had to laugh out loud, although a few seconds later I realized that, the Haredi world being what it is, he might well have been telling the truth. Still, it made me smile. And I got a few good books out of it too, which is never a bad thing.

Just like UN vehicles in these parts have "UN" written on them in large letters, so too reporters (no matter what their actual medium) have "TV" written on their cars in big letters. I was always a little offended by that- the obvious implication is "We're on your side, don't throw stones at us!"- and also a bit amused- Arabs don't use the Latin alphabet, but the whole world knows from the letters "TV." But today I saw something really funny- a couple of media SUVs with the letters "HD" added before "TV." Ha!

So, heading home down a semi-alley tonight, I see a few kids arguing/discussing something. As I approach, one goes "Ah!" and turns to me. I was a bit wary, but no need. Translating from the Hebrew:

He: "What blessing do we make on bananas?"

Me: "The fruit of the earth." (The usual blessing for vegetables, not fruit, which gets the "fruit of the tree" blessing.)

He, turning to the girl as if I've just settled it: "Aha!"

She: "But...it grows on a tree!"

I tried explaining that strictly speaking a banana doesn't grow on a tree (look it up), and walked on. And promptly cracked up. What a country.

Shloshim Yom...

What an enjoyable Purim that was! On to the next chag, Nefesh b'Nefesh asked for reflections on the Chagim to be published in the Young Israel's Magazine. Here's my contribution:

I have a short anecdote from Erev Pesach of last year. I hadn't yet made Aliyah but was well along in the preparations, and was in Israel for the Chag.

Erev Pesach last year was extra special, as it happened to fall, of course, on the same day as the once-in-every-twenty-eight-years Birkat HaChamah. After Shacharit at a Beit Knesset in Katamon, where I was staying, we went outside and actually had to walk a couple of blocks to see the sun rising. Then I walked to the Old City and went up to the Har HaBayit (having properly prepared early that morning) along with thousands of other people. The leader of our group said Birkat HaChamah and explained why the Har HaBayit is a particularly significant place to do so, as the Mishna in Sukkah describes how they used to stand there and recite the formula "Our fathers stood in this place and worshiped the sun, but we turn with our eyes to God."

I then walked back to Katamon. In one of the parks I passed on the way, there were perhaps a dozen small fires going (in the barbecue pits) with people standing around them burning their chametz. As I walked by, a car pulled up and a young family got out- father holding the hand of a boy of about three or four, mother holding a baby girl. They were clearly not religious (in the sense we usually think of the term)- no kippot, etc.- but the little boy had a small bag in his hand with the chametz they'd collected the night before. As they crossed the street to the park to join in one of the fires, the father began asking the boy, in Hebrew, what they were doing; the boy answered about the requirement to eliminate chametz for Pesach as the father explained further.

After seeing a scene like that, it would have been hard for Pesach itself to have lived up to the day before. But, of course, it did. Chagim in Israel can be like that. I'm very much looking forward to my first Pesach as an Oleh.

The things you learn...

I've been reading the Megillah for who knows how long, including three times this Purim alone. And only on the third time, today, did I notice something interesting: Shushan Purim is treated as the norm, and "regular" Purim is something "all those other people do." Maybe it's because the book was written in Shushan, and I'm probably noticing it because this is the first time I'm celebrating Shushan Purim, but there you are.

A Megillah Comes Home

I've previously written about the Megillah I read from- see the end of the post here. It wasn't until yesterday, though, and an email from my mother, that I got the full story. My parents sent it over to Israel so I could read for a few people this Purim, and after I sent them a note telling them that I'd gotten it, here's the message I got back:

Happy to hear that the megillah arrived safely. Dad and I figured out that it may be close to 100 years old. Don't ask me how my cousin Henoch Lieder, of Kiryat Hashmal outside of Haifa, got his hands on it. He made aliyah to Israel, I believe after the war, but was caught and imprisoned in Cyprus for a while. He was married to Yachne Bashe who was my mother's first cousin. He's the one in the Betar picture, if you remember. Maybe as a young man he studied in Yeshivat Mir but when the family arrived in Israel they were not religious and if I'm not mistaken, when my Tante Eshke visited Israel, he gave her the megillah. She gave it to Dad when we were in Cleveland in 1973. Hopefully this will be the megillah's final home. I think I wrote a whole megillah...

Isn't that nice? Happy Purim, one and all!

Leeks

Caught a bit of a cooking (cookery, for the Brits) show. Set in what seems to be a kitchen on an organic farm someplace out in the hills, raining. The host has a serious thing for leeks, at least in this episode. Makes leek chicken soup, then announces that he's going to do challot with leeks. He and the guy who runs the farm start kneading the dough.

Again, translating from the Hebrew:

Farmer: "Ah, challot. My mother is a da'atiyah [religious] and makes challot every Friday. I love challot."

Host: "Really? I didn't know you were raised religious."

Farmer: "I'm still a ma'amin [believer]. Just without a kipah."

Host and farmer then go off for a while in a discussion of religion, how religious each is despite not having the visible signs, how much they appreciate the religion and traditions...and then, after a few minutes, the host seems to suddenly remember he's on a cooking show:

Host: "Well, in any event, we're doing the leeks now..."

A nice little moment. The challot looked yummy, by the way. They should have smell-o-visions for those shows, and I see an Israeli company is developing one for cellphones, as it happens.

Ahh, cabbies

OK, here's another one to match the one below:

So I'm sitting at the bus stop, minding my own business (the eventual destination was Tel Aviv, for a very nice evening), learning from a Gemara, in fact, when a cab pulls up in front of me. At first I think the guy wants my business, but then I realize he's asking me something. Something about...Yehuda HaNasi?

Now, let me explain: Yehuda HaNasi (Judah the Prince) was a third-century rabbi. The Greek Colony, the next neighborhood over from where we were, is full of streets named for rabbis from that period, and I assumed (my headphones had been in) that he was asking me where "Yehuda HaNasi"- that is, Yehuda HaNasi Street- is. Logical, right? Translating from the Hebrew:

Me: Um, I'm not sure...somewhere down that way...

Cabbie: Sorry! You don't speak Hebrew?

Me (boldly): Yes, but I'm just not sure where it is...

Cabbie: No, no! Who was Yehuda HaNasi?

Me: Ah, who! He was a rabbi, a Tanna. Lived in the year...

Cabbie: I just told someone he arranged the Mishna! Was I right?

Me: Certainly! He was the one! Live in the year two hundred...

Cabbie: Two thousand? [The words sound vaguely similar in Hebrew.]

Me: No, two hundred.

Cabbie: Ah, of course! But he arranged the Mishna...are you sure?

Me: Definitely!

Cabbie: Thanks!

And he drives off, and the bus comes. Nice, eh?

Incidentally: My synagogue changes their various cloths- the ark curtain, the reading table cover- fairly frequently. Today (whoops, yesterday) I noticed that the cover they had on was dedicated to those people from the city of Brody who were killed in the Holocaust. And I thought- my father's family was from there; most of them were killed in the Holocaust. Good to see them remembered in Jerusalem.

"When I live in Jerusalem, I am living another's dream."

I saw that quote in a poetry book recently, and frequently have cause to think of it, even when experiencing seemingly unrelated events, like passing by a local Hasmonean-era tomb on Chanukkah, or hearing a reference to "Canaan" in Joseph Erev Shabbat Vayeshev. (A lovely minhag of my roommate.)

I was on my way to the opening panel of the Jerusalem Conference last night, riding in a taxi with a somewhat talkative cabbie. (Note, although it's becoming something of a- still lovely!- cliche in these sorts of stories, that there was no kippa on his head. This is all translated from the Hebrew, by the way.) I usually don't take cabs, but the hotel where the conference is at is a bit out of the way and I was slightly pressed for time.

So I'm sitting in the back, listening to the Daf on my Ipod, and we're heading up Straus Street, when the driver asks me if I want to go straight or turn right on Neviim and take a more roundabout route. He explains that the straight route will take much longer- lots of traffic. The Haredim are out in force, rioting and burning trash in Kikar Shabbat over some nonsense. (We smelled it on the way back. Lovely.) So we turn right as he (and, I'll admit, I) carry on about the Haredim and their crazy and destructive habits, as he blasts the police for being ineffective along the way. "Nu, it's getting warm," he says. "They need something to do." "Let them work during the day, they won't have as much energy at night," I opine. "Where do you live?" he asks.

"Katamon."

"Try adding a room to your porch in Katamon! The municipality will be on you in a second and stop you and fine you! Here in Geulah? Nothing!"

He then went on about how he thinks bottle recycling is nonsense, and would only put his bottles in the bin if he knew the money was going to tzedakah. "But the city keeps it all! See this bottle?" He holds up his soda. (Only liter bottles have redemption value in Israel, due to- believe it or not- Haredi pressure. Don't ask.) "I throw it in the regular trash- I don't need the money. Let someone who needs it collect it and get the 25 agorot." This then leads to a discussion about tzedaka. Amidst another blast at Haredim ("Rosh Chodesh Adar today- Marbim b'Simcha! They're practicing for Bi'ur Chametz already, and it's a month and a half off!"), he suddenly shifts gears. "Ahh, lots of tzedaka is given in Geulah- millions of dollars collected. I always give- you know what kimcha d'pischa is?"

A bit shocked to hear him use the phrase, it takes me a second to acknowledge that I do.

"You have to give! How can I enjoy my meal, my seder, when I know that other people don't have food? You have to give kimcha d'pischa..."

The conversation ends with talk of Gilad Shalit. "They want us to let people go- let them go! Then we can kill them right after we release them, when it's OK! Give me a gun and send me to Shechem, I'll do it myself!"

He drops me off at the hotel, telling me to send regards to the Mayor. Alas, I didn't get that chance, but the session was very nice indeed, with Mayor Nir Barkat (whoo-hoo!), Minister Benny Begin (looking more like his father all the time), journalist Nadav Shragai, Natan Sharansky (I always feel in awe when I see him), R' Aryeh Stern (two Katamonites in a row!), and Gavriel Barkai, the archaeologist, who gave an impassioned talk calling for Jewish rights on the Har HaBayit, from a mostly secular perspective. Interesting there too...my sister and brother in law were there- we sat together, which was very nice as well- and I got a ride home with a neighbor I see in shul every morning- turns out I was in ulpan with his wife. Don't think I'll make any of the rest of the conference, but Kol HaKavod to them, and most of all to my cabbie.

Cold and wet in Jerusalem, Barukh Hashem. Just down the block from me is parked a car- a BMW!-with Vanuatu plates. (Scroll down for a location map.) Aside from the obvious question of how the car got here (never mind what it's doing here), now I'm worried how they're taking the weather.

Am I the only person who sees the irony in this story?

My Strange and Charmed Life

(A physics reference; never matter.)

So I'm entering the Ben-Tzvi Institute last night for what proved to be a very enjoyable experience. The guard, as is usual, asks me if I'm carrying weapons. (I'm always amused/bemused by that question. They must be asking for some other reason, right?) My companion and I laugh, and go, "As a matter of fact..." I turn around and show him the three plastic swords sticking out of my bag. We all nearly collapse laughing.

Why am I carrying plastic swords in my bag? Come to Beit Shmuel, end of December, and you'll know.

Boy Wonder

Let me just make it clear up front that I think the whole "peace process" is a crock, and, even more, hope it fails miserably- precisely because I believe that its failure is a necessary step toward achieving true peace, the most important thing.

That said, you have to savor the irony of Obama, the man who supposedly understood the world so well he'd save not only the US' international reputation but the world itself, really putting his foot into it, on both sides, and thus perhaps (hopefully?) ruining the very process he claimed only he could save.

On the Palestinian side: I think a serious case can be made that the Arabs are ever more emboldened by the fact that it seems that the current US administration will see no wrong in them, thus leading to their attempted unilateral moves that may well (again, hopefully) lead to Israel taking some steps of its own.

On the Israeli side: Let's not be stuck on stupid: I think it's pretty obvious that when the US says it doesn't want building in a place, it means it hopes that place will one day be Judenrein. Leaving aside that there are hundreds of thousands of Jews in the West Bank and tens of thousands in the Golan Heights (and considering what a bang-up job has been done on- whoops, for- the few thousand Gaza expelees), when Obama's representative starts talking about Gilo in the same language, Israelis are gonna put two and two together and start drawing the line, and at a lot more than Gilo and Jerusalem.

So much for The One stopping the rise of the oceans.

Reasons I love being here, part...

"White Russian."

[OK, OK, but if my purchases are going to be influenced by movies, that's a good one. Besides, up on stage at the Canaan music bar, Jordan Zell is playing an original song named "Russian Girl."]

The waitress looks at me quizzically. I repeat the order, point to "Black Russian" on the menu. A light goes on.

"Ah! Ani Eshol." [I'll ask.]

She talks to the kippah-clad bartender, comes back a few seconds later.

"Zeh b'chalav- anachnu b'sari." [There's milk in that- we're a meat establishment.]

I order a Black Russian instead, as a small chorus of angels inside my head (and I, to my neighbors) sing the praises of the Land of Israel.

I've ordered White Russians in bars before. This is the first time that's happened.

Oh, did I mention the shelves behind the bar that the bottles are on are in the shape of a giant Magen David? Perfect.

Toto, I don't think we're in Queens anymore...

The following is on the front page of today's Yediot Acharanot, the largest circulation paper in Israel. I have not translated; the line appears in English. (The speaker is the unrepentant murderer of an entire family- parents, grandparents, toddler and infant.) The asterisks are mine, because this is a family blog. Apparently, however, that isn't a consideration for Israeli newstands, and the word is printed in full:

"I'm a nasty m*****f*****, I killed them all"

I'm going to have to go through some cultural adjustment, that's for sure.

I've heard this story a few times over the years. I always thought the punchline meant something else entirely (something not so funny) until I finally got it (I think) yesterday. (Might be the way he tells it here.) Hilarious and offensive, be forewarned.

So I'm walking past the flower shop at the end of Rehov HaNasi today and pass an elderly nun walking in the same direction. At that moment, one of the flower shop employees comes out holding some plants. They clearly know each other.

"Shalom! Chag sameach!" calls the nun.

"Chag sameach!" replies the flower woman with a smile. "Mah shlomeich?"

"Toda la-El, toda la-El," the nun says happily. "Chag sameach."

Chag sameach to all!

(I think getting used to the liberal use here of the word "Elohim" is one of the things that will take the most adjustment, language-wise. Oh, and as it happens, in the novel we're reading in ulpan now, we've just gotten to the point where the main character meets a Hebrew-speaking nun. Go figure. )