Not as bad as I thought
You've heard me complain about "dirty old men" 20 years my senior who write to me on the internet dating sites. We've discussed this before. The whole "what does age matter/ don't be superficial thing" vs "if paying attention to age is superficial, would you date a WOMAN 20 years your senior? I'll take your silence as a 'no' thing."
Anyway, I did a very non-scientific study last night, which showed -- I humbly admit -- that the problem is not as widespread as I thought. At least, according to this oh-so-not-scientific study.
On Dosidate, you can see who has viewed your profile. So I checked the last 60 men who have looked at my page -- men who, presumably, were doing a search for women in an age range that included the age of 33, my age. Not all of these men have written to me, of course. Of these 60 men who saw my profile, I've had written correspondence with five, and dates with three. But this list of 60 shows what age range of men considers a 33-year-old woman to be a "possibility," and therefore include that age in their search criteria.
I'm happy to report that out of 60 men, a full 47 who saw my profile are between the ages of 32-46.
Now, 46 may be a bit on the "old" side from my perspective, but I wouldn't necessarily consider a 46-year-old man who is searching for a woman in her thirties to be a dirty old man. Of course, it all depends on what age range he told the computer to search for. If I've been coming up on men's searches because they seek a woman aged 31-41, then I understand. It brings up images of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. And that is the first and last time I'm ever comparing myself to Angelina.
But if they are searching for someone aged 23-33, something is wrong, and that is just gross.
But let's assume for now that these 47 men were searching for an age range in which I fell in the middle or lower end. That's not bad! That's really normal!
So, I stand corrected. It seems that there are -- or at least, might be -- a lot of men out there who are pretty realistic in the age range they'll accept.
FYI, there were five men who saw my profile between the ages of 26-30 (could be cool), and four between the ages of 48-50 (um, whatever. Not my style, but there are women who wouldn't mind.).
But what is up with the 23-year-old man who was looking for 33-year-old women? Dudi, whereever you are, you either have some very interesting sexual fantasies, or you just need a wake-up call. I've had three careers and lived in three cities since college. You've been allowed to drink beer for only a few years. I could have been your babysitter twice over. Ew.
And to the two men who are 55, and the man who is 60 (who has written to me asking for a date!) . . . ewwwww . . . . Sugar Daddies . . . ewwwww . . . .
What does this post really tell you?
Just that I have waaaaaay too much time on my hands.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
The Wedding . . .
in Haifa was beautiful. Jenn was such a gorgeous bride! And, in case you were wondering, Kibbutz Hachotrim has a beautiful, but beautiful, wedding hall. Lit-up swimming pool, gardens, the works. Wow. And it's kosher. Yay! I could eat the food! And it was good, let me tell you.
As soon as Jenn saw me, I got a hug, and she said "Sarah, I didn't want to pressure you to come, but I'm glad you did, because I feel you were meant to be here for some reason. It is too weird that you contacted me just days ago. God wanted you here! I don't know why, but he did!"
I, too, felt very strongly for most of the wedding that I had some sort of role . . . that I didn't know what it was, but for some reason God had meant for Chayyei Sarah to be at the wedding of Jennifer Paul, and arranged for it to be so . . .
Can't be sure, but it might have something to do with the fact that none of Jenn's other friends were able to make it from the US. So I was the only friend there on the bride's side. (She did have family members with her, don't worry.)
Or it could have something to do with my being the only Orthodox person at the wedding. I did a lot of linguistic and cultural translations for some of the family members, so they would know what was going on at the ceremony.
Or maybe it was something else, and we'll never know.
In any case, I'm very glad I attended. I still can't really believe I was there, but I'm happy I was.
in Haifa was beautiful. Jenn was such a gorgeous bride! And, in case you were wondering, Kibbutz Hachotrim has a beautiful, but beautiful, wedding hall. Lit-up swimming pool, gardens, the works. Wow. And it's kosher. Yay! I could eat the food! And it was good, let me tell you.
As soon as Jenn saw me, I got a hug, and she said "Sarah, I didn't want to pressure you to come, but I'm glad you did, because I feel you were meant to be here for some reason. It is too weird that you contacted me just days ago. God wanted you here! I don't know why, but he did!"
I, too, felt very strongly for most of the wedding that I had some sort of role . . . that I didn't know what it was, but for some reason God had meant for Chayyei Sarah to be at the wedding of Jennifer Paul, and arranged for it to be so . . .
Can't be sure, but it might have something to do with the fact that none of Jenn's other friends were able to make it from the US. So I was the only friend there on the bride's side. (She did have family members with her, don't worry.)
Or it could have something to do with my being the only Orthodox person at the wedding. I did a lot of linguistic and cultural translations for some of the family members, so they would know what was going on at the ceremony.
Or maybe it was something else, and we'll never know.
In any case, I'm very glad I attended. I still can't really believe I was there, but I'm happy I was.
Two Great Posts that Taste Great Together
Treppenwitz gives us something to chew on, and then something to sip.
(I humbly request that the commenter "Defoe" from my last post click on the first link, and remember that Treppenwitz is . . . gasp . . . Public Enemy Number 1 . . . . a settler who . . . get this . . . cares about the Palestinians' welfare. The world ain't so black and white, now is it?)
Treppenwitz gives us something to chew on, and then something to sip.
(I humbly request that the commenter "Defoe" from my last post click on the first link, and remember that Treppenwitz is . . . gasp . . . Public Enemy Number 1 . . . . a settler who . . . get this . . . cares about the Palestinians' welfare. The world ain't so black and white, now is it?)
Monday, May 29, 2006
Thank you, IDF
You know, right now in Nablus are a lot of people whose lives have been highly inconvenienced the last few days, due to increased Israeli roadblocks, closures, and searches. A part of me feels bad. Really.
But mostly, I'm relieved the IDF were doing their jobs. Because the life they saved today could have been mine.
You know, right now in Nablus are a lot of people whose lives have been highly inconvenienced the last few days, due to increased Israeli roadblocks, closures, and searches. A part of me feels bad. Really.
But mostly, I'm relieved the IDF were doing their jobs. Because the life they saved today could have been mine.
US Memorial Day
Today is Memorial Day for those who died serving the United States of America.
Now that I live in a country that "celebrates" its Memorial Day with tear-jerking television all day, visits to graves of soldiers one has never met, ubiquitous newspaper articles about dead servicemen and the families they left behind, and somber educational programs -- a country in which being happy or frivolous on Memorial Day bespeaks a deep moral failing-- I realize just how much I took Memorial Day for granted in the U.S.
The wonderful thing about being an American in America is that one's freedom and culture is so deeply established, one's lifestyle is so well-protected, that a person can even take Memorial Day for granted. The wars and deaths are so far away, and such a small percentage of the population serves in the military, that even on a day specifically set aside to appreciate the sacrifices made to protect that freedom, we can still forget all about it. The freedom is so constant, that we forget it is there. Being free in America is like breathing -- and we haven't set aside a day to commemorate those who keep the air clean, treat asthma, etc.
And so Memorial Day in America is all about barbecues and changing one's closet over from winter darks to summer whites. Oh, and shopping.
I didn't realize the selfishness of all of this when I actually lived there. It is only now that I live abroad, in a country that fights daily for its very existence, that I understand how terrible it is to "celebrate" Memorial Day. And also, I now see the irony: Americans having the luxury to treat Memorial Day as a joyous day off just goes to show what a privilege it really is to be an American.
And so today I'm taking some time to really think about what it means to give up one's life for the United States. All those young men (and, increasingly, women) who died to establish my home country's independence . . . . the ones who died to keep it whole . . . the ones who died to protect America's interests abroad . . . the ones who died to protect other people's freedoms . . . all those people who said goodbye to their families one day, and never came home. The children who were never born, because an 18-year-old boy was shot on a European beach . . . The parents who cry every day, because their son gave up his life so that the neighbors could have a barbecue . . .
Americans are entitled not to believe that all of our country's wars were necessary or just. One is entitled to think that it was outright against American interests to enter certain wars, or that America should mind its own business, or that America is an international bully, or that instead of devoting so many resources to its military, America should be leading the world in finding peaceful ways to resolve international conflicts. All of those opinions have at least some legitimacy. Many of them, I agree with completely.
But no matter what one believes about any particular American war, the fact remains that we, as Americans, enjoy (or, in cases like mine, have enjoyed in the past), fantastic, unbelievable privileges that almost no one on Earth, now or in history, can even dream of. And so, America has done something right, for its own citizens if for no one else (and to think it has done nothing good for other countries is just beyond laughable). The country has made mistakes, but that doesn't change its identity as the one place on the globe where people are the freest and, arguably, the most secure.
Those who fought, or are fighting, in a particular war that maybe you don't agree should have happened, did or do so because, if nothing else, they believe that doing so would help people like you and me, and maybe people in other places too, to be free to shop and grill . . . and to forget all about them after they are gone.
That is really something. To fight and die for a belief like that.
I wish I'd appreciated it more before I made aliyah. But . . . we don't appreciate breathing until, all of a sudden, we can't.
Today is Memorial Day for those who died serving the United States of America.
Now that I live in a country that "celebrates" its Memorial Day with tear-jerking television all day, visits to graves of soldiers one has never met, ubiquitous newspaper articles about dead servicemen and the families they left behind, and somber educational programs -- a country in which being happy or frivolous on Memorial Day bespeaks a deep moral failing-- I realize just how much I took Memorial Day for granted in the U.S.
The wonderful thing about being an American in America is that one's freedom and culture is so deeply established, one's lifestyle is so well-protected, that a person can even take Memorial Day for granted. The wars and deaths are so far away, and such a small percentage of the population serves in the military, that even on a day specifically set aside to appreciate the sacrifices made to protect that freedom, we can still forget all about it. The freedom is so constant, that we forget it is there. Being free in America is like breathing -- and we haven't set aside a day to commemorate those who keep the air clean, treat asthma, etc.
And so Memorial Day in America is all about barbecues and changing one's closet over from winter darks to summer whites. Oh, and shopping.
I didn't realize the selfishness of all of this when I actually lived there. It is only now that I live abroad, in a country that fights daily for its very existence, that I understand how terrible it is to "celebrate" Memorial Day. And also, I now see the irony: Americans having the luxury to treat Memorial Day as a joyous day off just goes to show what a privilege it really is to be an American.
And so today I'm taking some time to really think about what it means to give up one's life for the United States. All those young men (and, increasingly, women) who died to establish my home country's independence . . . . the ones who died to keep it whole . . . the ones who died to protect America's interests abroad . . . the ones who died to protect other people's freedoms . . . all those people who said goodbye to their families one day, and never came home. The children who were never born, because an 18-year-old boy was shot on a European beach . . . The parents who cry every day, because their son gave up his life so that the neighbors could have a barbecue . . .
Americans are entitled not to believe that all of our country's wars were necessary or just. One is entitled to think that it was outright against American interests to enter certain wars, or that America should mind its own business, or that America is an international bully, or that instead of devoting so many resources to its military, America should be leading the world in finding peaceful ways to resolve international conflicts. All of those opinions have at least some legitimacy. Many of them, I agree with completely.
But no matter what one believes about any particular American war, the fact remains that we, as Americans, enjoy (or, in cases like mine, have enjoyed in the past), fantastic, unbelievable privileges that almost no one on Earth, now or in history, can even dream of. And so, America has done something right, for its own citizens if for no one else (and to think it has done nothing good for other countries is just beyond laughable). The country has made mistakes, but that doesn't change its identity as the one place on the globe where people are the freest and, arguably, the most secure.
Those who fought, or are fighting, in a particular war that maybe you don't agree should have happened, did or do so because, if nothing else, they believe that doing so would help people like you and me, and maybe people in other places too, to be free to shop and grill . . . and to forget all about them after they are gone.
That is really something. To fight and die for a belief like that.
I wish I'd appreciated it more before I made aliyah. But . . . we don't appreciate breathing until, all of a sudden, we can't.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Another Hebrew Celebrity Baby Name
And, once again, the meaning of the word to actual Jews has completely escaped the media:
Just weeks ago, most media outlets failed to do enough research, at least at first, to find out that while Suri Cruise's first name may technically be a diminutive for "princess" in Hebrew, no one uses the word that way anymore. The modern Hebrew word for princess is niseecha, and "Suri" is considered an Old-World Yiddishized nickname for girls named Sarah. I should know.
So, here's a head's up for all the celebrity watchers back in the US: I have been an Orthodox Jew for all of my 33 years, and have what most would consider a very strong Jewish educational background, and I have never, ever, heard the word "Shiloh" used in connection with "His gift," though it may be that that is the literal translation of the word. (I don't claim to be an expert in the Hebrew language, by far.)
Rather, the first, knee-jerk response, by most "engaged" Jews, to the word "Shiloh" is "Oh, yeah, the place where the Tabernacle resided for hundreds of years."
It is so frustrating when people discussing a matter related to religion don't know their Bible.
OK, here's an almost unrelated story I'm inspired to share.
At Barnard, I was required to take a course called "First-Year Seminar." It was a well-intentioned requirement, to make sure that all first-year students (they aren't called "FreshMEN" at Barnard College) have at least one seminar-style class, in which up to 12 students sit around a table with a professor and discuss Great Thoughts.
I was placed in a seminar called The Modern Idea of Freedom. I resented that I'd been placed in this class when I could have been taking something more immediately interesting to me. Now I would find the class fascinating. But then, I couldn't care less and hardly did any of the readings (and I got a B+ anyway).
The class was permanently shot for me during a discussion of William Godwin's Caleb Williams. I had not read the book. I had no idea what connection this book might have to The Modern Idea of Freedom. But when the class started talking about why Godwin chose to name the main character "Caleb," with references to famous Calebs of the world, I raised my hand and asked the professor, a member of the Spanish department, "I'm curious to know what your thoughts are about the connection of this character to the Biblical Caleb."
The professor looked at me blankly, and said "There's a character named Caleb in the Bible? Tell us about it."
So I patiently explained that Caleb was, along with Joshua, one of the two "spies" sent by Moses from the desert to scope out the land of Canaan before the Jews would enter it. The other 10 gave a scathing report, leading to the Jews' wandering in the desert for 40 years; but Caleb and Joshua tried to pursuade the people that Canaan was worth going to.
Now, having never read the book to this day, I still don't know whether Caleb Williams has anything in common with Caleb-from-the-Bible, though any self-respecting English major should be able to make up something.
But, really, a Barnard professor teaching Caleb Williams who didn't know that there was a Caleb in the Bible? Sheesh.
I knew this man knows a LOT more Spanish than I do, but after that . . . I just couldn't bring myself to respect him or the course.
It's too bad. We were assigned some great literature in that class. Maybe it's time for me to find that 14-year-old copy of Caleb Williams and see for myself what the Bible connection is.
And, lo, she has come to pass, the most celebrated of celebrity babies: Shiloh Nouvel Pitt-Jolie.Angelina Jolie gave birth to Shiloh, a girl, Saturday night in Namibia, a statement from Brad Pitt's publicist said.
And, once again, the meaning of the word to actual Jews has completely escaped the media:
Shiloh is a name of Hebrew origin meaning, "His gift," per thinkbabynames.com. It also associated with an 1862 Civil War battle, and a Neil Diamond song about a desperately lonely childhood. (Diamond's imaginary friend, however, spelled his name "Shilo.")
Just weeks ago, most media outlets failed to do enough research, at least at first, to find out that while Suri Cruise's first name may technically be a diminutive for "princess" in Hebrew, no one uses the word that way anymore. The modern Hebrew word for princess is niseecha, and "Suri" is considered an Old-World Yiddishized nickname for girls named Sarah. I should know.
So, here's a head's up for all the celebrity watchers back in the US: I have been an Orthodox Jew for all of my 33 years, and have what most would consider a very strong Jewish educational background, and I have never, ever, heard the word "Shiloh" used in connection with "His gift," though it may be that that is the literal translation of the word. (I don't claim to be an expert in the Hebrew language, by far.)
Rather, the first, knee-jerk response, by most "engaged" Jews, to the word "Shiloh" is "Oh, yeah, the place where the Tabernacle resided for hundreds of years."
# Joshua set up the tent of meeting at Shiloh in the early days of the Conquest (Josh 18:1). It continued as the center of worship during the period of the Judges (Judg 18:31). By the time of Eli and his sons, the tent of Joshua’s day had been replaced by a more permanent structure, a kind of "temple" (Hebrew hekal), with a door and doorposts (1 Sam 1:9).
# It was to Shiloh that Hannah, the mother of Samuel, came to worship and to pray for a child. God answered her prayer and some three years later, she brought her son to Shiloh to give him to God. Here he grew up in the conflicting environment of Israel’s worship and the avarice and immorality of Eli’s sons.
# The ark resided at Shiloh. When Israel had lost the first battle with the Philistines at Aphek on the International Coastal Highway, they sent messengers to take the ark down the Wadi Shiloh to Ebenezer, near Aphek. They believed that this "presence of God" would ensure victory. They were defeated, however, by an enemy invigorated by fear of being annihilated by the powerful God of Israel, whom they assumed was in "the box." Israel lost the ark to the Philistines, who took it to three of their cities before returning it to Israel at Beth-shemesh (1 Samuel 4).
# Apparently the Philistines destroyed Shiloh because the ark was not returned there and Shiloh was never again regarded as a center of worship (Ps 78:60).
It is so frustrating when people discussing a matter related to religion don't know their Bible.
OK, here's an almost unrelated story I'm inspired to share.
At Barnard, I was required to take a course called "First-Year Seminar." It was a well-intentioned requirement, to make sure that all first-year students (they aren't called "FreshMEN" at Barnard College) have at least one seminar-style class, in which up to 12 students sit around a table with a professor and discuss Great Thoughts.
I was placed in a seminar called The Modern Idea of Freedom. I resented that I'd been placed in this class when I could have been taking something more immediately interesting to me. Now I would find the class fascinating. But then, I couldn't care less and hardly did any of the readings (and I got a B+ anyway).
The class was permanently shot for me during a discussion of William Godwin's Caleb Williams. I had not read the book. I had no idea what connection this book might have to The Modern Idea of Freedom. But when the class started talking about why Godwin chose to name the main character "Caleb," with references to famous Calebs of the world, I raised my hand and asked the professor, a member of the Spanish department, "I'm curious to know what your thoughts are about the connection of this character to the Biblical Caleb."
The professor looked at me blankly, and said "There's a character named Caleb in the Bible? Tell us about it."
So I patiently explained that Caleb was, along with Joshua, one of the two "spies" sent by Moses from the desert to scope out the land of Canaan before the Jews would enter it. The other 10 gave a scathing report, leading to the Jews' wandering in the desert for 40 years; but Caleb and Joshua tried to pursuade the people that Canaan was worth going to.
Now, having never read the book to this day, I still don't know whether Caleb Williams has anything in common with Caleb-from-the-Bible, though any self-respecting English major should be able to make up something.
But, really, a Barnard professor teaching Caleb Williams who didn't know that there was a Caleb in the Bible? Sheesh.
I knew this man knows a LOT more Spanish than I do, but after that . . . I just couldn't bring myself to respect him or the course.
It's too bad. We were assigned some great literature in that class. Maybe it's time for me to find that 14-year-old copy of Caleb Williams and see for myself what the Bible connection is.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Crazy "Coincidence"- Now with Update
A couple of days ago, I happened to be thinking about an old friend of mine from my NCSY days, Jennifer Paul. Jenn lived several towns away and went to a different school, but I met and/or hung out with her at pretty much every NCSY Shabbaton (weekend retreat) through most of my high school years, and I liked her a lot. One time when we were about 16 or 17, she came to my house to visit, and I had the pleasure of having her play my family's piano and sing for us -- including a beautiful song she herself had composed. Her voice was incredible, and she could play piano by ear. She had recently recorded a demo song in a studio, and gave me a copy. I haven't seen or spoken with Jenn since I graduated from high school, but I still have that tape.
Anyway, every so often I think of her, and wonder what ever had become of her. This time, I put her name into Google, and lo and behold, I found her website. As you can see, she has been working as a singer/entertainer. No surprise there. She's very talented. Wanting to know more, I sent her an email through her site, asking if she remembers me, and how is she doing?
About an hour later she wrote back, saying "Sarah! Of course I remember you! And, you'll never believe this, I happen to be in Israel right now, and I'm getting married next week! Do you want to come to the wedding?"
So, this week I'm going to Haifa to see Jenn for the first time in over 15 years and watch her get married. Since she's understandably a little too busy these days to send me detailed emails, I still don't know much more about her life these past 15 years . . . I don't even know who she's marrying, or why they chose to get married in Israel, where they plan to live afterward (though I gather they are going back to the US after the wedding) . . . but I suppose this means she's happy!
What a crazy thing, that I happened to go to the trouble of Googling her just a few days before her wedding in Israel. I feel like this is min hashamayim (destiny), and that for some reason I'm meant to be there.
One small glitch is the fact that public transportation from Haifa to Jerusalem stops at 8 pm, and there is no way the wedding will be close to over at that point. So I'm looking for lodging in Haifa, and would rather not spend the $150-plus prices at the hotels that come up in my Google searches. Anyone know of a good Bed and Breakfast in Haifa? I tried Googling that also, but came up with only two options: One is an establishment just for "Jews and Gentiles who believe in Jesus" (uh, thanks but no thanks), and the other looks very nice but is all the way in Binyamina -- doable, but a bit inconvenient. Any tips for where to stay at an affordable price would be great.
This whole thing is quite surreal.
***UPDATE***
This blog totally came through for me. Susan read my post, contacted friends of hers in Haifa, and now I've got home hospitality with people who sound really nice. Thanks, Susan!
A couple of days ago, I happened to be thinking about an old friend of mine from my NCSY days, Jennifer Paul. Jenn lived several towns away and went to a different school, but I met and/or hung out with her at pretty much every NCSY Shabbaton (weekend retreat) through most of my high school years, and I liked her a lot. One time when we were about 16 or 17, she came to my house to visit, and I had the pleasure of having her play my family's piano and sing for us -- including a beautiful song she herself had composed. Her voice was incredible, and she could play piano by ear. She had recently recorded a demo song in a studio, and gave me a copy. I haven't seen or spoken with Jenn since I graduated from high school, but I still have that tape.
Anyway, every so often I think of her, and wonder what ever had become of her. This time, I put her name into Google, and lo and behold, I found her website. As you can see, she has been working as a singer/entertainer. No surprise there. She's very talented. Wanting to know more, I sent her an email through her site, asking if she remembers me, and how is she doing?
About an hour later she wrote back, saying "Sarah! Of course I remember you! And, you'll never believe this, I happen to be in Israel right now, and I'm getting married next week! Do you want to come to the wedding?"
So, this week I'm going to Haifa to see Jenn for the first time in over 15 years and watch her get married. Since she's understandably a little too busy these days to send me detailed emails, I still don't know much more about her life these past 15 years . . . I don't even know who she's marrying, or why they chose to get married in Israel, where they plan to live afterward (though I gather they are going back to the US after the wedding) . . . but I suppose this means she's happy!
What a crazy thing, that I happened to go to the trouble of Googling her just a few days before her wedding in Israel. I feel like this is min hashamayim (destiny), and that for some reason I'm meant to be there.
One small glitch is the fact that public transportation from Haifa to Jerusalem stops at 8 pm, and there is no way the wedding will be close to over at that point. So I'm looking for lodging in Haifa, and would rather not spend the $150-plus prices at the hotels that come up in my Google searches. Anyone know of a good Bed and Breakfast in Haifa? I tried Googling that also, but came up with only two options: One is an establishment just for "Jews and Gentiles who believe in Jesus" (uh, thanks but no thanks), and the other looks very nice but is all the way in Binyamina -- doable, but a bit inconvenient. Any tips for where to stay at an affordable price would be great.
This whole thing is quite surreal.
***UPDATE***
This blog totally came through for me. Susan read my post, contacted friends of hers in Haifa, and now I've got home hospitality with people who sound really nice. Thanks, Susan!
Friday, May 26, 2006
Thank God My Landlord Installed Window Screens
Most people in this country do not have screens in their windows. You've got the glass, and you have shutters called "trissim," which have the advantage of blocking out every bit of light, if you want them to. But they are no good for letting in light and keeping out bugs. Screens are a luxury you have to install yourself if you want them. So, I'm one of the lucky ones.
I was just on the phone with a potential client, and couldn't stop myself . . . from exclaiming . . . "Oh my God! There is a LIZARD on my window screen!!!"
Now that is something that I never experienced in New York.
Thank goodness it had no way to get into the apartment. I would have freaked.
PS Two seconds after writing this, I realized my kitchen window was open . . . no screen there . . . so I went to close it against any possible loitering lizards, and . . . two bees had gotten in! Aargh! I jumped around the kitchen, cursing a little, and finally opened the window wider so they could find their way out. Gaaaaaah!
Most people in this country do not have screens in their windows. You've got the glass, and you have shutters called "trissim," which have the advantage of blocking out every bit of light, if you want them to. But they are no good for letting in light and keeping out bugs. Screens are a luxury you have to install yourself if you want them. So, I'm one of the lucky ones.
I was just on the phone with a potential client, and couldn't stop myself . . . from exclaiming . . . "Oh my God! There is a LIZARD on my window screen!!!"
Now that is something that I never experienced in New York.
Thank goodness it had no way to get into the apartment. I would have freaked.
PS Two seconds after writing this, I realized my kitchen window was open . . . no screen there . . . so I went to close it against any possible loitering lizards, and . . . two bees had gotten in! Aargh! I jumped around the kitchen, cursing a little, and finally opened the window wider so they could find their way out. Gaaaaaah!
Post-Yom Yerushalayim Thoughts
Yesterday was Yom Yerushalayim (Jerusalem Day), celebrating the anniversary of the reunification of the city during the Six Day War of 1967. I always love taking some time, on Yom Yerushalayim, to appreciate the privilege I have of living in what many (including me) consider to be the holiest place on earth, and the fact that the Old City, including the Temple Mount (Judaism's holiest site - so holy that most Orthodox Jews consider ourselves too impure to set foot on it) is once again under Jewish (sort of) sovereignty. It's truly a miracle, and I am so incredibly grateful that I can literally walk to the Wailing Wall any time I please.
But . . . I have some questions for some of my readers. This question is NOT (I repeat, NOT) coming out of a desire to "split" Jerusalem, but rather out of an abhorrence of intellectual dishonesty . . . and out of curiosity as to how people think about these matters . . . (so please don't jump down my throat (Rivka), and keep the discourse civil. Thank you.)
Let's say that you are, at the very least, uncomfortable about giving any part of the Land of Israel to PA control. (I think most Israelis fit that category, and most Jews worldwide, including myself.) At the least, uncomfortable, and at most, vehemently opposed to the depths of your soul. And let's say, also, that however opposed you are to giving up control over any other part of the Land, you are more opposed to giving up parts of Jerusalem, because . . . it's Jerusalem. No explanation required. That is, on a scale of one to ten (with ten being "most opposed" you are at, say, a 7 when it comes to other parts of the West Bank, but at a 10 when it comes to Jerusalem, or something like that).
Now, I have a few questions for you:
1- Are you more opposed when it comes to any part of the municipality of Jerusalem, or just more opposed when it comes to the Old City and/or Jewish neighborhoods in East Jerusalem such as Talpiot and Ramat Eshkol? That is, would giving up sovereignty over Arab neighborhoods in East Jerusalem upset you just as much as giving up the Old City? Would it upset you MORE than giving up areas outside Jerusalem? Or is it really just the Old City and Jewish neighborhoods that hold an even more important place in your heart?
I guess we could re-word it thusly:
On a scale of one to ten, how opposed are you to giving up Arab villages in the West Bank? Arab neighborhoods in Jerusalem? Jewish neighborhoods in East Jerusalem? The Old City?
2- Have you ever been to any Arab neighborhoods in Jerusalem? Do you know the names of any of those neighborhoods? (I'm asking my Jewish readers, especially the ones who live in, or often visit, Israel's capital.)
3- What makes a neighborhood part of Jerusalem? Because the residents there feel that they are? Because the Jerusalem City Hall has jurisdiction over the garbage collection and parking tickets there? Because of some inherent increase of holiness in certain areas? Because it was part of Jerusalem when King Hezekiah lived in it? (According to that last, none of West Jerusalem is part of Jerusalem, either.) In other words, what's in a name?
In case you were wondering where I stand on this right now . . . I vehemently oppose giving up sovereignty over any part of the Old City and other places that hold hugely prominent places in the hearts of most Jews, under any circumstances. Regarding now-Jewish neighborhoods such as French Hill and Talpiot, I see no reason for Israel to give them up- why should we? Yes, I hear the arguments from the other side . . . but frankly, those arguments are weak, and don't make me care. The city is NOT occupied, it is annexed. As for Arab neighborhoods . . . . at least I'm honest enough to admit that I've hardly ever been in them, and since obviously most residents there don't want to be Israelis (since it was annexed, Arabs in East Jerusalem may accept Israeli citizenship, but most have opted not to take advantage of the offer), then I have no more problem with giving it up than I have about giving up most other pieces of land, at least from an ideological perspective. However, there are logistical problems. It is very difficult to split up a city without destroying vital infrastructure such as travel. It would make a mess of things - for everyone.
(Notice that I'm not saying "fine with me, split up Jerusalem." I'm talking about how much splitting Jerusalem would bother me in relation to how much any other land-for-more-war concessions would bother me.)
Bottom line: This whole issue sucks. I wish the world would accept the fact that Jerusalem was annexed, with citizenship offered to its Arab residents, and if they don't want to take it, then that's their prerogative, not our problem. I wish the city I live in wasn't under a microscope, and that we were free to get on with the business of improving the economy here and quality of life for everyone. I wish people would stop calling East Jerusalem "occupied," when it is not. The Palestinians don't have to like that Israel annexed East Jerusalem, but they can stop lying about it.
I used to live in the Big Apple . . . now I live in a place so fractured, it's applesauce.
Here is an exerpt from the poem "Jerusalem 1967" by Yehudah Amichai (translated):
Yesterday was Yom Yerushalayim (Jerusalem Day), celebrating the anniversary of the reunification of the city during the Six Day War of 1967. I always love taking some time, on Yom Yerushalayim, to appreciate the privilege I have of living in what many (including me) consider to be the holiest place on earth, and the fact that the Old City, including the Temple Mount (Judaism's holiest site - so holy that most Orthodox Jews consider ourselves too impure to set foot on it) is once again under Jewish (sort of) sovereignty. It's truly a miracle, and I am so incredibly grateful that I can literally walk to the Wailing Wall any time I please.
But . . . I have some questions for some of my readers. This question is NOT (I repeat, NOT) coming out of a desire to "split" Jerusalem, but rather out of an abhorrence of intellectual dishonesty . . . and out of curiosity as to how people think about these matters . . . (so please don't jump down my throat (Rivka), and keep the discourse civil. Thank you.)
Let's say that you are, at the very least, uncomfortable about giving any part of the Land of Israel to PA control. (I think most Israelis fit that category, and most Jews worldwide, including myself.) At the least, uncomfortable, and at most, vehemently opposed to the depths of your soul. And let's say, also, that however opposed you are to giving up control over any other part of the Land, you are more opposed to giving up parts of Jerusalem, because . . . it's Jerusalem. No explanation required. That is, on a scale of one to ten (with ten being "most opposed" you are at, say, a 7 when it comes to other parts of the West Bank, but at a 10 when it comes to Jerusalem, or something like that).
Now, I have a few questions for you:
1- Are you more opposed when it comes to any part of the municipality of Jerusalem, or just more opposed when it comes to the Old City and/or Jewish neighborhoods in East Jerusalem such as Talpiot and Ramat Eshkol? That is, would giving up sovereignty over Arab neighborhoods in East Jerusalem upset you just as much as giving up the Old City? Would it upset you MORE than giving up areas outside Jerusalem? Or is it really just the Old City and Jewish neighborhoods that hold an even more important place in your heart?
I guess we could re-word it thusly:
On a scale of one to ten, how opposed are you to giving up Arab villages in the West Bank? Arab neighborhoods in Jerusalem? Jewish neighborhoods in East Jerusalem? The Old City?
2- Have you ever been to any Arab neighborhoods in Jerusalem? Do you know the names of any of those neighborhoods? (I'm asking my Jewish readers, especially the ones who live in, or often visit, Israel's capital.)
3- What makes a neighborhood part of Jerusalem? Because the residents there feel that they are? Because the Jerusalem City Hall has jurisdiction over the garbage collection and parking tickets there? Because of some inherent increase of holiness in certain areas? Because it was part of Jerusalem when King Hezekiah lived in it? (According to that last, none of West Jerusalem is part of Jerusalem, either.) In other words, what's in a name?
In case you were wondering where I stand on this right now . . . I vehemently oppose giving up sovereignty over any part of the Old City and other places that hold hugely prominent places in the hearts of most Jews, under any circumstances. Regarding now-Jewish neighborhoods such as French Hill and Talpiot, I see no reason for Israel to give them up- why should we? Yes, I hear the arguments from the other side . . . but frankly, those arguments are weak, and don't make me care. The city is NOT occupied, it is annexed. As for Arab neighborhoods . . . . at least I'm honest enough to admit that I've hardly ever been in them, and since obviously most residents there don't want to be Israelis (since it was annexed, Arabs in East Jerusalem may accept Israeli citizenship, but most have opted not to take advantage of the offer), then I have no more problem with giving it up than I have about giving up most other pieces of land, at least from an ideological perspective. However, there are logistical problems. It is very difficult to split up a city without destroying vital infrastructure such as travel. It would make a mess of things - for everyone.
(Notice that I'm not saying "fine with me, split up Jerusalem." I'm talking about how much splitting Jerusalem would bother me in relation to how much any other land-for-more-war concessions would bother me.)
Bottom line: This whole issue sucks. I wish the world would accept the fact that Jerusalem was annexed, with citizenship offered to its Arab residents, and if they don't want to take it, then that's their prerogative, not our problem. I wish the city I live in wasn't under a microscope, and that we were free to get on with the business of improving the economy here and quality of life for everyone. I wish people would stop calling East Jerusalem "occupied," when it is not. The Palestinians don't have to like that Israel annexed East Jerusalem, but they can stop lying about it.
I used to live in the Big Apple . . . now I live in a place so fractured, it's applesauce.
Here is an exerpt from the poem "Jerusalem 1967" by Yehudah Amichai (translated):
I've come back to this city where they have given
names to distances as if to human beings
and the numbers are not of bus-routes
but rather: 70 After, 1917, 500
B.C., Forty-Eight. These are the lines
we really travel on.
And already the ghosts of the past are meeting
with the ghosts of the future and negotiating about me from above,
giving and taking, not taking and not giving,
in the high arches of shell-orbits above my head.
A person who comes back to Jerusalem feels that the places
that used to hurt do not hurt anymore.
But a faint warning remains in everything,
like the movement of a light veil: warning.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
This is my herb "garden." In the foreground: fresh rosemary for roasting with vegetables or baking with chicken. Mmmm. In the background, from left to right: basil for making pesto, mint for my tea, parsley, oregano, dill for my vegetable soups, cinnamon basil (basil with a touch of cinnamon scent- mmm!), and tarragon behind the window screen.
BTW, I asked my rabbi, and it turns out I have to take terumot and maasrot from the herbs when I use them, even though they are not technically planted in the ground itself. (If you don't know what that is, uh . . . try Googling it. Or maybe a nice commenter can explain it in English better than I could . . . ) How cool is that? I haven't done that since I made aliyah, since all the stores where I buy my fruits and vegetables have already taken care of it.
Anyone have ideas for what I can do with fresh oregano, basil that smells a little like cinnamon, or fresh tarragon? I have no idea . . .
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