I fear being repetitive. I've been made redundant.
Happy Birthday to Hillary and Jim.
We had a lovely trip up north. While we were there, one of the national forests were on fire -- but it was put out within the day. Life is currently quiet on the Lebanese border - but it is amazing to see the money that has poured in there since 2006. The homes are massive (without any glass in the windows). It looks quite different from the makeshift bunkers of long ago.
We did not go onto the Syrian border. Simply a matter of time - though we were in Metula for lunch on Friday and had driven up to Mt. Hermon on Thursday. I lost my map and so it was difficult for me to acclimate.
Feeding Sarah has been adventure. If she doesn't eat all the time, she becomes a CRANK! Only she doesn't like Snitzel and was unimpressed with the breakfast at the kibbutz. Finding her protein is like finding peace. So, she was been a wee bit cranky. Everytime we saw a fresh fruit stand on the road, we stopped. We had cheeries and grapes. (But they weren't sufficiently clean for Sarah and in my car we had trouble finding a water source). Ben, on the other hand, finished the box of grapes before we could find a place to clean them . . . Sarah almost ate him.
The water hike and Misgav Am were the highlight. The speaker at Misgav Am, a Clevelander who fought in four wars, was a cowboy and he swore a bit about the f'in Hezbelloh -- Ben thought that was great. It was extremely educational and Ben soaked it up. Sarah did great for the first 45 minutes and then started her blood sugar was too low and she couldn't focus. The water hike was a success. It was so hot - falling into the river was a treat. The other hikes were work - little shade and too much heat. On Thursday, I bought and we finished 10 water bottles!!!!! Ben peed at every opportunity, Sarah and I peed once.
If we had more time, we would have rafted. But we'll have to save it for another day. We drove back along the lebanon border - I didn't have a map and refused to turn on the very expensive gps. As long as there was a barbed wire fence on my right, I knew I was fine. . . and we were. . .
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Peace
Peace is when everyone in the house is sleeping but you!!!! And you get to play all the spider solitare you want without your husband looking down crinkly-nosed at you wondering if there is a pile of laundry to fold or a dishwasher to unpack. Ahhhh.... the benefits of intercontinental travel. Of course, the same technology that provided me this peace, gave me the means with which to publicly announce to the world that my husband is a nudge and doesn't like it when I play spider solitare. I am sure I will enjoy said benefits of technology when said husband comments back . . . =)
I am enjoying my lazy days. After dropping kids off at camp at 8 am, I come home and work (trying to write a piece of curriculum), play spider solitare, talk to grandpa, and plan days for two or three hours. Then Marla, my step-cousin, who is one of my favorite people in the world, we usually do something. If inspired, we go for a walk. If lazy, we get coffee or lunch. By that point, I usually have to pick the kids up. Then we head off to the pool. I bought a VERY expensive pool pass (makes wilmette and skokie pool look cheap). Fortunately, we are ENJOYING it immensely as my grandparents seem adverse to air conditioning. The kids are all hot and bothered from camp and we go and cool off.
Ben is supposed to have an overnight "white night" at camp on Thursday. No camp during the day - and they are UP all night. (Not a (semi) sleep over. NO FLIPPIN sleep). He was very excited about it from the beginning - but as he is spending more time at camp - he is finding the language to be problem. duh. If they are doing an activity - he is having a great time. If they are sitting around talking and hanging out -- he is lost. They will try and include him up to a point, but he knows he is missing so much. Today they played funky capture the flag. Each game had a different set of rules. He was so frustrated - just as he figured out the rules, they'd change them . . literally.... Needless to say, Ben -- who would invariably capture the flag and be a hero -- assigned himself to defense (I guess they kept changing the rules about where the middle line was and how and what you had to do to cross the line????). Not a horrible experience by anyone's measure.... just coping the inability to capture the flag.
Marla's daughter is friends with both the kids' counselors - so she will talk to his counselor (who speaks little english) and find out what exactly is happening that night. If it is entirely social (campfires and hanging out and singing) I don't think he'll go. If it is activity based. . . he'll go. The camps here are so much more creative than in the states. Mostly because they aren't worried about litigation or fox news. Like today was a massive water gun fight - gorilla warfare style. Paint ball with water. I just don't see JCC Kaplan doing that. . . Or all week they've been building a team hut. I think they are supposed to camp in it at white night.
Sarah is doing great! The kids speak a lot less English in her group, but her counselor is awesome and the girls just hold her hand -- the international language for "I got you." She is happy and trying to help her brother decide about white night. Too cute.
I am enjoying my lazy days. After dropping kids off at camp at 8 am, I come home and work (trying to write a piece of curriculum), play spider solitare, talk to grandpa, and plan days for two or three hours. Then Marla, my step-cousin, who is one of my favorite people in the world, we usually do something. If inspired, we go for a walk. If lazy, we get coffee or lunch. By that point, I usually have to pick the kids up. Then we head off to the pool. I bought a VERY expensive pool pass (makes wilmette and skokie pool look cheap). Fortunately, we are ENJOYING it immensely as my grandparents seem adverse to air conditioning. The kids are all hot and bothered from camp and we go and cool off.
Ben is supposed to have an overnight "white night" at camp on Thursday. No camp during the day - and they are UP all night. (Not a (semi) sleep over. NO FLIPPIN sleep). He was very excited about it from the beginning - but as he is spending more time at camp - he is finding the language to be problem. duh. If they are doing an activity - he is having a great time. If they are sitting around talking and hanging out -- he is lost. They will try and include him up to a point, but he knows he is missing so much. Today they played funky capture the flag. Each game had a different set of rules. He was so frustrated - just as he figured out the rules, they'd change them . . literally.... Needless to say, Ben -- who would invariably capture the flag and be a hero -- assigned himself to defense (I guess they kept changing the rules about where the middle line was and how and what you had to do to cross the line????). Not a horrible experience by anyone's measure.... just coping the inability to capture the flag.
Marla's daughter is friends with both the kids' counselors - so she will talk to his counselor (who speaks little english) and find out what exactly is happening that night. If it is entirely social (campfires and hanging out and singing) I don't think he'll go. If it is activity based. . . he'll go. The camps here are so much more creative than in the states. Mostly because they aren't worried about litigation or fox news. Like today was a massive water gun fight - gorilla warfare style. Paint ball with water. I just don't see JCC Kaplan doing that. . . Or all week they've been building a team hut. I think they are supposed to camp in it at white night.
Sarah is doing great! The kids speak a lot less English in her group, but her counselor is awesome and the girls just hold her hand -- the international language for "I got you." She is happy and trying to help her brother decide about white night. Too cute.
Monday, July 11, 2011
my son wrote this
I was putting Sarah to bed and Ben was sitting on the porch, watching the sunset. He let me put it on my blog so that we would always have it and so that the context in which he wrote it would be preserved. He doesn't want it on his blog.
Our lives are like the Torah. You cannot understand it unless you work at it. You can’t reveal its secrets unless you work at it. As such, you can’t live the right way if don’t work at it. This said, the Torah shows us that we can’t have work done for us, we have to do that work ourselves. Take that extra step to understand it, to reveal the its secrets, and to learn the right way to live. You can’t ask someone to take that final step for you, for them to reach your goals -- YOU have to do it. Because only YOU can make it meaningful. And only YOU can reach your goals.
Our lives are like the Torah. You cannot understand it unless you work at it. You can’t reveal its secrets unless you work at it. As such, you can’t live the right way if don’t work at it. This said, the Torah shows us that we can’t have work done for us, we have to do that work ourselves. Take that extra step to understand it, to reveal the its secrets, and to learn the right way to live. You can’t ask someone to take that final step for you, for them to reach your goals -- YOU have to do it. Because only YOU can make it meaningful. And only YOU can reach your goals.
Cooking
The kids are fed at camp. They eat cereal for breakfast. I would make them sneitzel but Elaine keeps her cookies in the oven. As Sarah says, "she thinks it is a closet." As such, for the last three nights they have had pasta and red sauce and pita, cucumber and butter. A meal of champions. There has been a lot of fruit.
Oh yeah, and last night I almost killed my 90 year old grandfather. I made him go down the stairs (he doesn't do stairs or exercise) to kill a spider. Ben acknowledged that it was the largest spider he has ever seen. It was about a three incher... big, fat and ugly!!!! I moved my bed into the kids' room.
Oh yeah, and last night I almost killed my 90 year old grandfather. I made him go down the stairs (he doesn't do stairs or exercise) to kill a spider. Ben acknowledged that it was the largest spider he has ever seen. It was about a three incher... big, fat and ugly!!!! I moved my bed into the kids' room.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Musing on Pre-Bosnia
I am reading this book called "S." It is about a camp in Bosnia in 1992. S is bussed from a mountain village to this camp and eventually ends up in the "women's room." The book is very similar to the holocaust's "House of Dolls," written or signed using someone's tattoo number. Like a dehumanized number, all characters in this book have no name and are referred to simply by a letter of the alephabet. "S" acknowledges immediately it is a "novel." "House of Dolls" is less clear - but is classified by Yad Vashem as fiction.
The question of "fiction" or "nonfiction" seems strange when you look at this type of story. The essence of both books is this notion that survival requires an "othering" of oneself or a spirtual divorce from body: a fictional experience. That surviving requires one to lie to themselves - to create a fictional character to whom war happens, who can absorb the horror and tragedy.
In "S" there is a scene in which S finds make-up and paints herself in a seemingly "whorish" way: with red lipstick and "seductive eyes." While the other girls are aghast that she would embrace her whore-status, S finds it liberating. She is "disguising" herself. "When she realized that the make-up enabled her to don a mask, she discovered that it was a way to gain power. . . . perhaps [she could] deprive them of the chance to humiliate her."
Could this even be written as non-fiction? If one lies to oneself, does not one lie to the reader - which is the essence of fiction? And when we deal with this historical texts, in which one's perspective, and hence perception, is the source of the story - are not all such stories "fiction." Maybe we need a new word - maybe "fiction" and "nonfiction" are too polarizing and too black and white. Maybe all of historical narratives belongs in this other amorphous category. Where we are skeptical of the actual facts because we recognize that historical facts are not facts but are observations or experiences necessarily seen through the lens of biased perspective.
I am not commenting on the importance of historical narratives (which I take for granted as the only source of history) but on how we value human experience. Why shouldn't there be value on how people "experience" history - not simply the "facts" (he went to A, then traveled by boat to C). That it is the human experience of history - how we suffer or enjoy history that is important - not the mere occurance of it. That history should be a messy, emotional experience - not a text of facts to be memorized. That history is a human experience (though there can the history of the evolution of a bacteria that is science based). That it is entirely a social science - that how we percieve history, how we feel about it, that is what is important.
My point in this diatribe, from which I strayed hugely, is that in reading this book "s" with the knowledge that I will be in Bosnia in three weeks makes reading it a wholly different experience. Even if it is "fiction" how can I not look at women who are now my age, and thus 18 at the time of the war, and wonder. How can I look at the men and not wonder - why did you get to survive?
What should be my "relationship" to people when we are in Bosnia? I'm glad I'm not going to Serbia. I couldn't even contemplate that. But aren't I guilty too? I was 22 when "S" was in the "women's room." Where was I? (I was backpacking in Europe and understood very little of what was happening - but was keenly aware something big was happening.)
I read this book and go on this trip and remember that my teenagers can't be bothered to read their history books because it is "irrelevant" to them. That "relevance" is a buzz word in education - that we have to justify teaching history. When did humanity become so disconnected from one another?
Am I responsible for what is happening in Sudan? Bosnia? And does my status as a Jew, who should "know" (intuitively, viscerally) empathy here in ethnic cleansing, create for me a higher burden of responsibility?
And then if I am responsible, what does that look like? I must know? I cannot be ignorant. I must act? I must not not act. When I do know, is my responsiblity greater? I knew and did nothing. Or is not knowing, because maybe if everybody knew it wouldn't happen??, worse?
Sorry. Ranting. For me.
The question of "fiction" or "nonfiction" seems strange when you look at this type of story. The essence of both books is this notion that survival requires an "othering" of oneself or a spirtual divorce from body: a fictional experience. That surviving requires one to lie to themselves - to create a fictional character to whom war happens, who can absorb the horror and tragedy.
In "S" there is a scene in which S finds make-up and paints herself in a seemingly "whorish" way: with red lipstick and "seductive eyes." While the other girls are aghast that she would embrace her whore-status, S finds it liberating. She is "disguising" herself. "When she realized that the make-up enabled her to don a mask, she discovered that it was a way to gain power. . . . perhaps [she could] deprive them of the chance to humiliate her."
Could this even be written as non-fiction? If one lies to oneself, does not one lie to the reader - which is the essence of fiction? And when we deal with this historical texts, in which one's perspective, and hence perception, is the source of the story - are not all such stories "fiction." Maybe we need a new word - maybe "fiction" and "nonfiction" are too polarizing and too black and white. Maybe all of historical narratives belongs in this other amorphous category. Where we are skeptical of the actual facts because we recognize that historical facts are not facts but are observations or experiences necessarily seen through the lens of biased perspective.
I am not commenting on the importance of historical narratives (which I take for granted as the only source of history) but on how we value human experience. Why shouldn't there be value on how people "experience" history - not simply the "facts" (he went to A, then traveled by boat to C). That it is the human experience of history - how we suffer or enjoy history that is important - not the mere occurance of it. That history should be a messy, emotional experience - not a text of facts to be memorized. That history is a human experience (though there can the history of the evolution of a bacteria that is science based). That it is entirely a social science - that how we percieve history, how we feel about it, that is what is important.
My point in this diatribe, from which I strayed hugely, is that in reading this book "s" with the knowledge that I will be in Bosnia in three weeks makes reading it a wholly different experience. Even if it is "fiction" how can I not look at women who are now my age, and thus 18 at the time of the war, and wonder. How can I look at the men and not wonder - why did you get to survive?
What should be my "relationship" to people when we are in Bosnia? I'm glad I'm not going to Serbia. I couldn't even contemplate that. But aren't I guilty too? I was 22 when "S" was in the "women's room." Where was I? (I was backpacking in Europe and understood very little of what was happening - but was keenly aware something big was happening.)
I read this book and go on this trip and remember that my teenagers can't be bothered to read their history books because it is "irrelevant" to them. That "relevance" is a buzz word in education - that we have to justify teaching history. When did humanity become so disconnected from one another?
Am I responsible for what is happening in Sudan? Bosnia? And does my status as a Jew, who should "know" (intuitively, viscerally) empathy here in ethnic cleansing, create for me a higher burden of responsibility?
And then if I am responsible, what does that look like? I must know? I cannot be ignorant. I must act? I must not not act. When I do know, is my responsiblity greater? I knew and did nothing. Or is not knowing, because maybe if everybody knew it wouldn't happen??, worse?
Sorry. Ranting. For me.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Off to Camp
I had to wake the kids early (7 am) to get them ready for camp -- they were happy little tykes. A neighbhor has a child Sarah's age and she came over yesterday and explained where to go and what to bring, etc. That was helpful! The group lists were on-line and she found us Ben, so we knew who his counselor was. Sarah's name wasn't on the list. But when we got to camp this morning and started explaining, a young teenager calls out and says, "she's mine."
At camp, Sarah was a bit trepidatious - Ben, I have no doubt will be running the camp by lunch time. Sarah went off without a peep or a sign of unwillingness. She was a great little trooper. Ben didn't look back at me. I have the sense that they are able to follow the hebrew a bit - at least my grandparent's hebrew.
They are in camp until one.
At camp, Sarah was a bit trepidatious - Ben, I have no doubt will be running the camp by lunch time. Sarah went off without a peep or a sign of unwillingness. She was a great little trooper. Ben didn't look back at me. I have the sense that they are able to follow the hebrew a bit - at least my grandparent's hebrew.
They are in camp until one.
Friday, July 8, 2011
In Tel Aviv
Our flight to Frankfurt was uneventful. Ben passed out. Sarah complained about the sleeping accommodations. I didn't sleep at all - but truthfully it was only 11:30pm Chicago time when we arrived. I did, however, pass out in the airport. The frankfurt airport, as evidenced by my ability to sleep, was uneventful. In fact, I was quite surprised by the lack of "Israeli" type security given by Luftansa. That said, it turned out we were a bit early for the excitement. Apparently, there was a "Come Visit Palestine" day scheduled for today (Friday) and the goal was to overwhelm the airport. On the flight after us out of Frankfurt, something like 20 people were arrested and not allowed on the flight. We miss all the excitement.
We did have a bit of fun in the Frankfurt security line (not the Tel Aviv line). I had brought metal water bottles for the kids and used them on the flight. We set off security and they made us finish (drink) two full water bottles. Sarah and I were giggling so much we couldn't do it. Ben - in practice for his later days as anchor man - polished off both water bottles. He was quite proud of himself. We also set off the detector because I didn't take the kindle out of my backpack and because I didn't separate the DVD player (which performed pathetically on the flight!!) from the wires. The Germans were not impressed with us.
The flight to Tel Aviv, arrival, car retrieval . . all uninteresting.
Today we went to the beach - but Ben tells the story better.
Off to bed. . . finally . . .
We did have a bit of fun in the Frankfurt security line (not the Tel Aviv line). I had brought metal water bottles for the kids and used them on the flight. We set off security and they made us finish (drink) two full water bottles. Sarah and I were giggling so much we couldn't do it. Ben - in practice for his later days as anchor man - polished off both water bottles. He was quite proud of himself. We also set off the detector because I didn't take the kindle out of my backpack and because I didn't separate the DVD player (which performed pathetically on the flight!!) from the wires. The Germans were not impressed with us.
The flight to Tel Aviv, arrival, car retrieval . . all uninteresting.
Today we went to the beach - but Ben tells the story better.
Off to bed. . . finally . . .
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