Goodbye 41

Subject: GOODBYE 41

[A senior moment: I try and avoid leaving the house because of my plumbing problems. Pajama-clad and steps from a lavatory is my favored state. Imagine my consternation – panic would be more accurate – when we learned of a death in Kiryat Arba, in a family to whom we are very close. But Rachel was insistent that we make a condolence call, so off we went.

Though we got there without mishap, as we approached the house the pressure built until I thought I would either explode or delouse my clothes. Entering the apartment Rachel made her way through the crowd while I knocked people aside getting to the bathroom. Emerging at last I put on the somber face appropriate to the setting and made the requisite mumbling sounds as I worked the room.

Each somber mumble was met with a grin, a laugh, a smirk. Very disconcerting. When I finally reached Rachel at the other end of the room she gave me the ‘you pathetic bastard’ look and directed my gaze downward. Not only had I failed to zipper up after relieving myself, but my ritual fringes had emerged for air and were swinging to and fro.

Getting old sucks.]



[You know my penchant for sitting outside large swaths of night, smoking and listening to classical music on the radio. For some reason the programmers have started playing Greatest Hits discs, wholly inappropriate for the music geeks like myself listening at those hours. It’s like having eight aural orgasms in an hour. Don’t they realize that, in music as in most other things, getting there is half the fun?]



[A modest proposal: I have been told that the producers of pork products, alarmed over dwindling sales, are pushing the media to drop the term ‘swine flu’ and limit descriptions to H1N1 only. This will never work as Americans demand something catchy and colorful and descriptive, even on a horrible subject, and H1N1 is simply too technical.

Might I suggest that ‘swine flu’ be renamed ‘JewFlu’. Jews, as we all know too well, are blamed for every problem in the world these days, even for bovine gaseous emissions that supposedly cause Global Warming. [Or is it now Climate Change? I get so confused…]

Most American Jews would love the name, accept the blame, embrace the shame and revel in the opportunity to grovel and beg forgiveness of their fellow citizens.

Perhaps when the present wave of Rabbis Fast for Gaza, Gay Jews for Palestine, Holistic Hebes for Hijabs, Genuflecting Jews for Jihad and Peripatetic Jewish Pussies for Peace have become passé, all can unite in a campaign whose motto is I’m A Jew Who Hates The JewFlu.]



[So many of you were inspired by Rachel’s description of our visit to Lachish for the ground-breaking ceremonies. A few minor details were left out, which I hasten to include so as to rekindle the inspiration.

First, there were a substantial number of speakers representing governmental bodies who had, without exception, worked to sabotage the Lachish project. Now they expressed satisfaction that the project was going forward, and modestly claimed credit for the progress.

Second, much to my disappointment one scheduled speaker could not attend. He was a local Peace Partner from a village over the Green Line. I have it on good authority he wanted to thank the authorities for repopulating a desolate area with Jews. Local Peace Partners are faring poorly economically. With the return of Jews and their many possessions the locals will be able to feed their families in the time-honored way of ‘liberating’ Jewish property.

Third, not only was a Raptor Sanctuary being created, but even the most esoteric of their needs would be looked after. Knowing that the flying rats would be affected by the new residents raging religiosity, crafts shops would be created for raptor-friendly black yarmulkes and shtreimlach.]



GOODBYE 41

NIGHTMARE ON CHELM STREET

or

ONWARD AND DOWNWARD!



In our first year in Israel I was filled with trepidation at the approach of Rosh Hashana and the Ten Days of Awe culminating in Yom Kippur. I was the same overweight charmer I had been in the States, yet never before had such strong premonitions that I would not be inscribed in the Book of Life for the coming year.

Much of the fear came from a newly discovered sense of mortality. I had completed three months of basic training as the High Holidays approached and that experience had shown me how fragile is my hold on life. Being obese, obtuse and exceedingly clumsy, not to mention my cinema-generated determination to be a hero, repeatedly put me into situations from which I was lucky to escape serious injury or death. Annual reserve duty only reinforced my sense of imminent doom.



[aside: Typical Moshe dramatization or exaggeration, you say, smiling disdainfully? Try this:

One year our reserve duty was devoted to preparing for a division-size exercise that was to last several days. Tanks, armored vehicles, artillery, everything except air power. Most of the ground troops were regular army, and our aging reservists seemed to be there for window dressing.

My unit’s task was to charge up a hill and ‘capture’ enemy-held bunkers at the top. To make the exercise as realistic as possible live fire was mandated. No running around pointing a weapon and yelling ‘fire’. Given the real danger that we might accidentally shoot each other, every precaution was taken, such as insuring we didn’t cross each others paths during the ascent.

So far, so good. But I was trained as a rifleman, and picked up some competence as a machine gunner, and I was given an Uzi. I hate the Uzi. The short barrel makes it a midget rifle, or a pistol with elephantiasis. A mammoth like me needs a big gun. Still, orders are orders and I charged up the hill.

I hadn’t gotten thirty or forty feet when I stumbled on a rock and involuntarily pressed the trigger. Naturally, this being a live fire exercise, the safety was off.

Two bullets were fired. They passed between the inside of the helmet and my scalp, exiting through the helmet. Those of you who know me for my swelled head will find it impossible to believe there was room enough for the bullets to pass through without blowing my cranium off. I am at a loss for a logical explanation, other than that the Lord was warming me up for future adventures.

Too stupid to be frightened, I just stood there bemusedly staring at the holes in my helmet. Two trickles of blood meandered down my left cheek, losing themselves in my beard. My CO ran up to me. He was gasping for breath, his face a panorama of apoplectic anger and concern. He really was a good guy, and I know his concern outweighed anything else.

“I’ll have to report this” he said, still breathing hard. “You’ll be court-martialed, and maybe you’ll… Maybe they’ll let you go with a reprimand because you’re a new immigrant.” Then, after a long pause, “Don’t you have anything to say?”

“I told you I didn’t want the damned Uzi.”

As it was, there was no court-martial and no notoriety. While I was giving myself a shave and haircut an artillery unit that was supposed to fire on Hill X inadvertently fired on Hill Y, killing three observers and wounding eight others. This happy event caused so much noise that my contretemps was forgotten.]



The purpose of the above was to explain why I was filled with dread as the High Holidays approached. But despite the dread the thought of all those hours in shul had me in a panic. I see we are at the edge of the abyss yet those around me are blissfully unaware of what’s coming. It’s all smiles and “Thank G-d things are improving every day.” But they aren’t improving, and I seem to occupy a different world than those around me.

When a good friend, someone I respect and admire, said “Now I understand why we had to leave Gush Katif. We have to teach the rest of Israel how to live as joyously as we lived there!”, I completely lost it.

“Don’t you see what’s ahead?” I shouted. Every day, in the weeks before the expulsion, he and I had hugged each other after morning prayers and said “He won’t let it happen.” Now he smiled: “He won’t let it happen.”

I turned away and said under my breath “I can’t be with these people anymore.”



Be careful what you wish for, the saying goes. Your wish might just come true. If no other human heard me whisper, He certainly did.

Okay, smart guy, I imagine Him saying, let’s see how you enjoy a shul-free holiday season. Within days I was coughing, feverish, and diagnosed as having flu. Further tests confirmed it was H1N1.

I was flabbergasted. “I’ve been an orthodox Jew all my life” I said to a (now former) friend. “I’ve never so much as sniffed pork.”

“Have you looked in a mirror?” he replied. “You eat like a pig. You look like a pig. So why shouldn’t you get pig flu?”



The long and the short of it is that I spent most of the holidays at home, and even now am largely homebound. Even after I was officially over the flu, my plumbing was messed up beyond imagining. The worst was Yom Kippur. I’ve always fasted, and though two doctors and a rabbi told me I was required to drink, I knew better. It went reasonably well until 2am when I awoke with the need to empty my bladder. But instead of what usually comes out there was dried blood and a few drops of the wet variety. And the pain was excruciating.

Panic stricken, I started to drink but the damage was done. Every five or six minutes the need recurred and each time it was wet and dry blood. And pain. I could taste blood in my mouth from biting my lips to keep from screaming.

I didn’t want to wake Rachel who had fallen asleep about 1am, totally exhausted from caring for me and running the household. This was not gallantry on my part. I knew that if I woke her she would insist on calling an ambulance to take us to Barzilai Hospital in Ashkelon. Where we would sit for hours surrounded by drunken Russians and elderly heart attack victims, to finally be seen by Peace Partner doctors and nurses covering for the regular Jewish staff. Not for me.

Three hours, three hellish hours, and I finally was able to sleep. An unforgettable Yom Kippur, and one I completely deserved.



Several of you keep sending me texts and videos of Netanyahu’s appearances. Why? Nobody denies that he is an excellent speaker. As is Obama. One major difference is that Obama has beliefs while the invertebrate Netanyahu has none. Obama’s beliefs – a One World Socialist New Order – are repugnant to me. They are leading to the imminent dissolution of Israel, and the eventual disintegration of the United States. Netanyahu, on the other hand, knows what is right and invariably does what is wrong. His sole concern is his own survival.



Immediately after the closed ninety-minute meeting between Obama and Netanyahu I was inundated with requests for my take on what went on. Not that anyone thought I actually knew what had transpired, but because “Moshe, you’re always good for a tasteless joke”.

As I told a visiting AFSI group – they are among the shrinking circle of people I adore, and with whom I feel utterly comfortable – “Obama said Israel was to be castrated, but the ever-persuasive Netanyahu convinced him that we first be anaesthetized.”

Surely about as tasteless a joke as I could manage, and more accurate than I imagined.



Many sensed something was amiss given the secretive nature of the meeting, and all my tendrils began vibrating in panic when Leftist Labor party ideologue Daniel Ben-Simone said “We must not attack Netanyahu. When the extent of his concessions to Obama become known the Right will abandon him and we will have to rescue him”.



Then everything seemed to change. There was the brouhaha over Gilo. People went wild over Netanyahu, Defender of the Faith, Defender of Jerusalem. I begged those who had gone from distrustful to starry-eyed to realize that Gilo was considered even by the Left as part of Jerusalem, and the emphasis on Jerusalem meant the abandonment of Judea and Samaria. To no avail. Gilo was Netanyahu’s kashrut certificate.



Basking in his new-found upright stature, Netanyahu quickly reverted to form and announced the “ten month freeze on all settlement building”. His sycophants on the Right reacted with shock. Even the estimable Caroline Glick in the Jerusalem Post [Friday, November 27] wrote a scathing column, “Bibi’s Bad Week”. Long a supporter and apologist for Netanyahu, Glick now sees him as a person with size 2 feet trying to fill size 9 shoes, or a minnow surrounded by sharks.



My own view is much less sympathetic. I believe Netanyahu is complicit in everything that has happened. I believe the Gilo affair was created to establish his bona fides and deflect criticism from the settlement freeze to come.



Whether Glick is correct and Netanyahu is merely pitiable, or I am correct and Netanyahu is contemptible, the result is the same: Doom and gloom for us.



On that happy note…



moshe