Today I Almost Died

February 26, 2006 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: General 

Today I almost died.

I have been ill for the past few days, and was still feeling under the weather when I woke up this morning. For a few minutes, I debated myself on the topic “Shall I go to work today?”, and me #2 convinced me #1 that I needed to come to work and finish some things. What can I say? Me #2 is an excellent debater.

I was driving on the road #1, in the direction of Tel Aviv just like any other day. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point, I lost focus. I can’t recall if it was when I coughed, or whether it was just a general lack of concentration, but all of a sudden I noticed a car in front of me, a car I was going to hit unless I took evasive action. I slammed on the brakes and found myself spinning out of control. I slammed into the rear left side of the car I had tried to avoid, causing it to careen into the barrier on the side of the road. I ended up also on the right hand side of the road, but facing oncoming traffic. Luckily I was on the shoulder of the road, now out of harm’s way, but what of the other driver?

I stumbled out of my car, put on my yellow vest, and noticed the other driver coming towards me. I immediately apologized, to which he told me not to worry. Things like this happen. I was amazed by his attitude, and lack of desire to kill me! After all, he had been totally minding his own business, and ended up almost killed because of me. Then I noticed another man limping towards us. It was a Chayal – Israeli soldier. The car I had hit had subsequently slammed into a van parked on the side of the road, which had then gone into its driver – the soldier – who was standing alongside it.

After taking down each other’s details, reporting the accident to police, and refusing medical attention (I am not sure why the soldier did not elect to go to the hospital immediately), the three of us stood by the road, waiting for the tow trucks to arrive. “What a nes (miracle)!” was repeatedly said during the course of our conversation. But at no time did the others blame me, nor display any anger towards me. In fact, the limping soldier – I hope his leg is not broken – offered me a chocolate. I told him “You should not be offering ME anything. In fact, I should be offering you my leg!”

I won’t bore you with the rest of the details. But I will say that the accident has taught me a number of important things:
1. I’m one lucky S.O.B. Baruch Hashem.
2. I knew that working as hard as I do, and driving such long distances every day, was taking its toll on me. Now I see it can take its toll on others.
3. My wife and I really need to move closer to my work.
4. I am really seeing a side to Israelis to which many have not been privy. The sensitive, caring side. And it makes me damn proud to be living here.

(Cross-posted at Israellycool)

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A Nerd and Proud of It

February 17, 2006 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: General, Immigrant Moments, Life 

“You’re a ch’noon,” my twelve-year-old daughter Merav impishly pronounced me one day after I refused to let her take an “emotional health” day from school.

“What’s a…what did you call me?” I replied.

“A ch’noon,” Merav said, repeating the Israeli slang that, to the best of my fading Hebrew uplan memory, was not on the weekly list of frequently used words like the Hebrew for “café” and “bus” and “explosion.”

“It means nerd,” Merav clarified. “Like you.”

“Why? Because I liked learning when I was a kid?” I shot back. “Because I think you should too?”

“Ch’noon, ch’noon, ch’noon,” Merav chanted.

“Sshhh…” I said, noticing that seven-year-old Aviv was listening, If he picked up anything vaguely derogatory, we’d never hear the end of it.

How did it get to this? I mean, how did I become a ch’noon? After all, I have tried for most of my parenting life to be the cool dad, the dad who could really relate to his children. I could feel their pain and offer worthwhile advice from vividly remembered and still relevant experience, not just platitudes and stuff that might have worked in “the old days.” Sure I might be 45, but in my mind, I would forever be 16 (which, by the way, is not necessarily a good thing, my therapist notes).

And so, around the dinner table, I was open to answering any question. Fire away: politics, drugs, rock and roll. Even sex…our Friday night discussions might not make Dr. Ruth blush, but she’s certainly want to join in the conversation.

All this required staying up-to-date with the latest media. When my wife Jody chastised me for listening to Howard Stern, I rationalized it as keeping my finger on the pulse of what’s hip. Listening to alternative rock radio over the Internet for me was a job not just a pastime.

Indeed, music has always been a particular passion and I’ve not been a dad who got stuck on Springsteen (not that there’s anything wrong with that). How many other dads make it a point to stay up on the cutting edge of the latest indie/emo pop, who can introduce their kids to Death Cab for Cutie, Interpol and Snow Patrol? Britney Spears and Madonna – that’s what real ch’noon wannabe-cool dads listen to.

Mind you, all of this might be a bit of over-compensation. When I was my kids’ ages, I actually was a ch’noon. The only time I got anything less than an A in a class was in Driver’s Ed – darn that pesky simulator!

I read sci-fi voraciously, laughed a little too hard at Monty Python, and was head of the Math Team (mind you, though, only the “B” team, and we lost every competition we entered). I didn’t have a pocket protector, but for a time I did carry my scientific calculator on my belt – hey, it was just more convenient that way!

When I got invited to a party, it was with the band geeks, not the stoners and the jocks…and I didn’t even play an instrument.

But times had changed. I had changed.

“Give it up,” my friend Seth said to me as I was lamenting my descent in nerd-dom in synagogue one Kiddush. “She’s your daughter. There’s nothing you can do to be cool in her eyes.”

Easy for him to say. But maybe he was right. If I laughed too hard in front of Merav, or tried to make a joke in Hebrew, Merav would roll her eyes and give me that withering look that until recently I took as a term of endearment.

Maybe I should accept my fate with my daughter…my daughter…just a minute…what about…

“Amir,” I asked my fourteen-year-old son as I caught him wolfing down brownies and burekas at the Kiddush. “Do you think I’m a ch’noon?”

“No, not at all,” Amir said without a blink. “You like the same things I do…you know, computer games and BattleStar Galactica and the Internet.”

I beamed, until I realized that the very things he was referring to…were what had gotten me thrown into the ch’noon box in the first place.

I turned to Aviv. “Do you think your Abba is a ch’noon?” Aviv just ran around to my back and punched me in the tush.

I think that was a yes.

Well, there you have it. Once a ch’noon, always a ch’noon I suppose. At least one of my kids thinks I’m moderately cool. The others will come around…eventually…right? In the meantime, there’s not much I can do about it.

Yes, I am a ch’noon. And darn proud of it!

———————–
This article was cross posted at This Normal Life, which is hosted by Bloggerce, a new publishing service started by the author.

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Super size me

February 15, 2006 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: General, Israeliness 

About once a year or so, I stop in at the McDonalds around the corner from my office for a fix of fries.

It’s not a kosher McDonalds (even though one does exist in Mevasseret) – and as well as being open on Shabbat, it serves up the usual Big Macs with cheese (kosher meat though) and ice cream.

But, even though I keep kosher, a fry is a fry, right?

While waiting in line yesterday, I was surprised to see a young boy, about 9 years old – with a black kippa, tzitzit hanging out and long peyot. Either this kid was haredi (ultraorthodox) or he was an undercover midget food inspector.

When his turn in line arrived, he asked the counter man for a Kid’s Meal.
The worker looked down at him – and instead of registering the order – said to the boy, “You know, we don’t have kashrut certificate here.”
The boy answered, “I know, that’s ok.”

The counter guy shrugged and plugged in the order, and took the 20 shekels that the boy was clutching on to.

My order came and I left. But I had a couple thoughts as I was walking out – one, that I was leaving an unfinished story – was the boy defying his parents by sneaking out to McDonalds?

And two, I was touched by the worker’s cautionary statement to the boy. He clearly wasn’t religious, in fact I’m pretty sure he wasn’t Jewish. But he cared enough to raise the issue with the boy. A definite Israeli moment…

I don’t know if the boy enjoyed his meal, but I’m willing to bet once he had the fries, he’ll be back….

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Human Ecology

February 15, 2006 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: Life 

Savta Dotty writes:

I’ve been reading Ronni Bennett’s blog, Time Goes By which focuses on ageism in America. Then today I read Tamar’s post at Tamarika, on how she misses small children in her life.

These got me to thinking about the waste that consumer societies can create, and how the ecology awareness has risen: the Green movement, recycling, reusing, simplifying life, etc. But having worked all my adult life in the knowledge industry, I have an interest in something that ecology movements seem to ignore: consumer societies waste knowledge more than the third world does. I’m not talking about knowledge that became obsolete, like how to drive a horse-and-buggy, or even modern knowledge like how to use html, or what’s your Congressman’s name, or who won last year’s SuperBowl or knowledge tools like reading, writing, ‘rithmetic, and googling. I’m talking about serious knowledge that could more properly be called wisdom. How do consumer societies create, distribute, and conserve wisdom?

Well, where does wisdom come from? Experience. And who has the most experience? Old people. Not that all old people are wise, but wisdom is concentrated in the elderly. So if wisdom is valuable, then old people pretty much control a social resource. True they have more medical needs than young, and they may produce less fewer material goods. But they we have something of value in exchange. Now here is a little survey: how much of your time outside the office or the classroom did you spend last week talking with someone a generation older than you? I’ll even cut you some slack and whittle it down to someone 15 years older or more?

My life has been made incredibly richer because I got to be with old relatives often. It was easy: they lived in the same city. Then my mother came to spend the last years of her life in my house. Which turned out to be 21 months, but we didn’t know that at the time. In Israel, I’ve befriended a woman 18 years my senior who lives nearby, so I can visit her regularly and hear tales of her youth and get her take on current events. I consider these “win-win” visits, not obligations, because of her sensible approach to life, honed over 60 years’ living in the same apartment! I know that any visit could be the last. With greater probability than visiting a younger person.

It’s so much easier for multi-generational families to be together often in Israel, because the country is small enough no matter where you live in it. And people don’t move as often as American do, so roots can grow deeper. The “generation gap” simply does not exist, except in a clothing shop. Some young people party late into the night on weekends, but TV commercial scenarios, a pretty accurate reflection of social conventions, often include infants, small children, and elderly people interacting with the beautiful youth. These indirect messages make me feel less marginalized and more valued here than I do on my visits to the USA (not talking about my immediate family, but the general public I may encounter along the way).

About six years ago, I stopped at a Tel Aviv gas station to fill up the tank. The attendant smiled at me and asked, “What’ll it be, savta?” [note for my new readers: that's "grandma" in Hebrew.] I realized he was being genuinely friendly, not at all insulting or mocking. I was proud too, ’cause elswhere and Renaissance Woman were about to make me a real savta. I bet he got to see his own savta often, for Wisdom Transfer Sessions, although they may have called them “meals.”

Crossposted at Cousin Lucy’s Spoon

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Tu B’Shvat

February 14, 2006 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: Holidays, Israeliness 

There is little greenery in the vicinity of Machane Yehuda but the Municipality of Jerusalem sent over a few musicians and performance artists to celebrate Tu B’Shvat yesterday. They were working a tough crowd-I doubt many shoppers had seen a clown stiltwalking before, let alone two women, standing about 20 feet tall dressed as brides. A man wearing a fake Afro emceed various contests, including a garinim (sunflower seed) eating contest. He coaxed a shy red-headed Haredi boy ‘two years away from his Bar Mitzvah’ to come on stage and try to throw three hoops onto the head and arms of an acrobat. When the boy succeeded, the MC called for ‘Kapayim Yerushalaim’ (applause, Jerusalem) and the crowd responded.

Various Mizrahi bands drew large crowds, and played various tunes from Um Kaltum’s ‘Inta Umri’ to Morrocan zmirot. I spotted a girl, perhaps 4 or 5 dancing from a balcony above the market. A few of the porters, Arab teenagers from East Jerusalem, bobbed their heads, too. Another fellow channeled the spirit of the shuk and gave out olives, swearing they would do all sorts of wonderful things for my health. A smile glimmered on his painted face as he chastised me for eating mine without saying a bracha.

A recent oleh and student at Ulpan Etzion, David Druce is Israelity’s newest member. You can read about his experiences in David’s Ulpan.

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