Proud of an Israeli Soldier I Never Knew

     It is the Jewish Press' 25th Anniversary here in Tampa and as I read an article in the paper I began to cry.
The article was about a Tampa Bay "Solidarity" mission to Israel during the Gulf War.  The Tampa mission was the ONLY group to go to and remain in Israel throughout the Scud missile attacks.  The part that made me tear up was when they told of a terrifying moment in their trip.  The 12 American Jews from Tampa, were seated at dinner.  The alarm of an impending missile strike went off and they were forced to abandon their meal and seek refuge at the highest point of the building (to avoid nerve gas).  They all donned their gas masks with one exception.  There was a very young girl, not much older than 18.    She was a soldier in the IDF.  She did not have a gas mask.  Many in the room offered their masks to her.  She refused, choosing instead to potentially offer up her own life to spare the lives of civillians.
     To me THIS IS Israel, Israelis, and every IDF soldier.  To me... THIS is what they stand for.  This is the mentality of the people there.  They would sacrifice anything to spare an innocent life, even if it meant offering up their own instead.  This is what I saw when I lived among them.  These people are kind, and incredibly giving.  They would give you anything they could if you were in need.  I love that about these people.
    Israel, and her people, give hope to the meaning of humanity, chivalry, courage.  They are a people to be truly proud of.  And as I do hold an Israeli citizenship... I am VERY proud to count myself as one among them.
     I may have only been a child of 6, not even an American citizen yet, when this soldier made such a brave choice; but her heart means as much to me now as it did for those 12 American souls in that room in the heart of the Gulf War Crisis.

Happy 25th Anniversary to the Jewish Press here in Tampa!  And thank you for sharing such a touching story.  It was a reminder of the good people I left behind in the land I call my home.

Rimes & Reasons Personal & Public Personas

     I always find writing so theraputic. Even if I am writing about nothing at all. I enjoy writing fiction and fact. But I find that when I am completely honest about my life, I hurt people. Why is everyone today so afraid of the truth? It seems to me as though our society today is nothing but lies. Think about it for just a moment. How many times have you lied either to yourself or to someone else today? No matter how tiny the lie seems. How many times this week? Be Honest.

See....

It's a lot. I became very religious a few years back and as a result my concience grew by leaps and bounds. As a result I stopped lying. Completely stopped. As nice as it was to always be honest with people, I also hurt a lot of people.

Sometimes a little white lie stops us from hurting someone. Like not telling a woman she looks fat when she asks, or telling a friend she is smart when she is clearly an airhead. But what good is it doing anyone? Maybe that woman needs to hear she's fat. Maybe it will help her get motivated. Maybe that "airhead" would go back to school or study harder and make more of an effort if SOMEONE would tell her she's not very bright.

I guess that brings me to the title of this post. I know you have noticed that I don't write very much anymore. Mostly that is because if I wrote exactly what I thought and felt, you would be thoroughly amused and entertained, but everyone would hate me.  People don't want to hear the truth.  I wish I could write anonymously.  I wish I could have an audience that reads my words, participates in dialogue, but never really knows who or where I am.

Random Writings, Short Story

Working Title: Destinies Collided

 

He strolled over as though he owned the entire park.  The confidence of a man much older than his years.  His dark handsome features and striking good looks were not lost on her.  She found herself smiling just a little.  She wondered if it was out of cheerful delight or mild shock.  After all, men like him don’t associate with girls like her.

Not that she was of ill character of course.  She, of average height, blonde hair, green eyes, and a beautiful smile, was actually of quite a resonable character.  She was kind, compassionate, generous, but also firey, a passion for the things and people she cared for that was unmatched by those around her.

No, no, her character was not the problem.  What was clear, however was that they came from two very different worlds.  He the learned scholar, son of an Ivy League man.  Her, the product of a middle class upbringing and the respectable but average education that went with it.  Yes, that was it… it must have been a smile of shock.  But he was so very nice to look at.

As if to confirm her conclusion, he spoke to her, and with shock she smiled again.  They discussed the basics of course, where they both were from, what they had studied, how long they had lived in the area.  With each common answer they found themselves connecting.  She saw something interesting in him.  Something different than other men with his background.

They were enjoying their conversation so much, the young man didn’t even notice when his friends left him behind.  The next thing they knew they were having drinks and playing darts at the bar down the street.  She was enjoying his company immensely and the conversation never let up. 

The had been sitting at the bar, just talking for the better part of an hour.  She just couldn’t stop staring at him.  The chemistry was overwhelming.  She’d never seen such fire in a man like him before.  She was itching to know where it came from.

They continued to talk endlessly about everything, business, politics, religion, football.  She relentlessly teased him about his stuffy lifestyle and how he didn’t fit in with the others at all.  it was at one of these moments he shocked her again.

She was going on about how men of his status couldn’t be bothered with romance, or heat and how most men of his ilk couldn’t even kiss properly.  Before she knew what was happening, this tall, sexy stranger took her face in his hand, looked into her eyes and kissed her.

She thought to herself that she must be dreaming.  He was warm, strong, but not aggressive, and all she could see were flames.  Who was this man, kissing her like nothing else in the world mattered in that moment?  Who was this man?

 

***OK It’s late… To Be Continued

Sorry For The Tone

     Sorry I can’t be more upbeat since this is the first time I’ve written in weeks.  But I’m feeling quite down today.  I was up all night last night (despite being exhausted) with an earache and a book I just couldn’t stop reading.  Today I am feeling the after effects.  I woke up at 4:30pm because my friend called me.  She had the day off and wanted to get together. 

     She changed her mind when she heard I was just waking up.  Too bad too, because I really needed the companionship today.  Now I know I’m about a week from the ‘ladies time’ of the month and so crying is inevitable around this time but still.  I’ve been in tears all day.  Everything seems to get me going today.

     My internet (the one I pay out the ass for, the one that supposedly works everywhere) has been super slow for over a month now and has been giving me non-stop problems.  I can’t download this movie I really want to see, I have no idea where the movie theater is or how to get there, and there isn’t anyone to see it with me even if I COULD find the place.  I’ve been slacking with my work writing and I can’t seem to keep focused.

     I’ve been so home-sick lately.  Missing my family and my baby girl is killing me.  It has been the main source of my tears today.  I love Israel.  I love being here, living here, making it my home.  But I am so VERY lonely.  I haven’t seen my family in a year, I don’t have any consistent friends here, my EX only calls me to harass me about the divorce papers (which I can neither afford to get notarized nor can I find someone to do it) and I haven’t been able to get a hang of how dating works here.

     Some of my readers know about the dark things in my past.  Some do not.  For those who understand, it has been very hard for me here.  I am by nature an emotional “relationship” kind of girl.  I don’t do casual.  Every “encounter” I have, means something to me.  Here, if there ARE actual men who prefer relationships, they don’t prefer me.  I am, without a doubt, a scumbag magnet!

     Even the guys who seem so sweet and caring are really douchebags.  Like the “religious” guys, who would NEVER bring shame to their  families by marrying a girl like me but have no problem shtooping me in private.  Or the “nice” guy who treats me with respect, doesn’t try anything with me because he likes me. He doesn’t want to “rush” into a relationship because he wants to get to know me first…. Until his male instincts take over and then the only thing we do when we spend time together is… well you get the point.  Of course I’m forgetting the Jerk who acts like an amazing, kind, caring guy.  He treats me like I’m important and he’s proud to be out with me… Until I find out he has a girlfriend who is “studying abroad” at the moment.

     It’s a fundamental problem for me because I know who the good, kind, caring men are.  The ones who really want to settle down with a wife and kids.  They are religious guys.  The ones who go on Shidduch dates, the ones who NEVER speak to me, even when I look all religious.  But there is the fundamental problem.  I cannot go on a Shidduch date (even though I’m curious to try it) because I haven’t finished the conversion yet.  Even when its finished… the fact that I come from a secular family and I was married to an Israeli once before won’t help my cause. 

     I often find myself lying to people here, or rather not telling them the whole truth.  It’s the only way to survive without being a complete outcast.  If people knew my mom wasn’t Jewish… I would not be allowed to go to Shabbat dinners, or live with religious people.  I would be chastised for keeping shabbat, religious people and even some regular (non-religious) Israelis wouldn’t speak to me.  Most guys wouldn’t date me.  It would just be a very hard and lonely life for me.

     I really want either a VERY attentive boyfriend, or to just be left alone and stop being used and abused and bothered by all these disrespectful men who don’t really care about me.  If they don’t care, why can’t they just leave me alone.

I Got Delayed

     Sorry I have been M.I.A.  My new job doesn’t leave me much room for personal writing.  Plus so much has happened… Like I got my Israeli Citizenship!  WOO HOO!

So I will be writing another blog to update everyone on what’s been happening but I wanted to let you know that I got a taste of Israeli bureaucracy today when I was informed for the first time that one office that I already met with was supposed to give me a document in order to be seen by another office in order for the first office to process my benefits.  Did you get all that?  Yeah… I almost didn’t either.  But I’m nothing if not thorough so I’m off to the Misrad HaPanim (the government and citizenship office, like the DMV) to get my Passport entries and exits so I can be seen next Sunday by the Misrad HaKlitah (new immigrant office) to get some information on my benefits, be processed for those benefits and get another paper that I have to take to my bank, the post office (to sign up for healthcare oddly enough), and several other places.

Whew…. Being a new citizen is a full time job all on its own.  I hope my other jobs don’t fire me.  Soooo much on my head at the moment.  Not to mention that I have family in town AND my friend from Tel Aviv came to stay with me at the worst possible time for a week long vacation in which I was the personal tour guide.

This Aliyah thing is harder than they make it sound in the brochure. 

The Sound of Emotions

     There is a specific song from my High School Summertime days that I absolutely loved… still do.  It reminded me of cruising the causeway with my best girlfriend and beach bunny Lady R.  We would have the most amazing time soaking up the sun, picking up boys, and taking tastefully trashy bikini photos.  Sounds like a great song right?  A wonderful reminder of my younger and more carefree days?  I thought so too.

     Unfortunately this song was playing when something tragic and devastating happened to me.  It left me scared for years.  I couldn’t even think of the song without getting chills.  I would have thought, almost ten years later, that it would pass.  I would have thought it would feel like just a bad dream.  But one day a few weeks ago, this song popped up on my internet radio rotation and it hit me. 

     I thought I was going to be sick, literally and physically sick all over my laptop.  It really rocked me to my core.  I didn’t think the memory of that day would continue to haunt me even now.  I tried a few more times to listen to the song, hoping it was just the shock of hearing it after so long.  NOPE! 

     I guess I’m just permanently scared.  It’s too bad.  I really did love that song.  It deeply bothers me that any one person has the power to leave such an indelible mark on who I am and what I’ve become.  Such a shame. 

     Eleanor Roosevelt said “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”  It is true… to an extent.  But sometimes circumstances arise that are beyond one person’s control and people can leave a rip in your soul that is almost impossible to repair.  I can say this for First Lady Roosevelt, she got one thing right…

 “A woman is like a tea bag- you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water.”

     For everything I’ve been through and all the crazy stuff I’ve seen… I am so much stronger having lived through it and come out on the other side. 

Never let anyone tear you down!

xoxo

A

Purim

Purim… Last year was an oddity. This year… an experience. Aside from the fact that I dropped my iPhone and shattered the glass screen. Luckily I didn’t break the LCD screen. After Shabbat on Saturday I went with Rivka and her family to the synagogue to hear the Migillah (the Story of Ester). After the services I went down to the lobby and during an attempt to take a few photos… Crack. Apparently marble floors are bad for phones. Oops, who knew. The first night of Purim was slow. Just the synagogue services and a trip back to Jerusalem, but Sunday night was a little different.

After spending all night working on my Madonna costume and having a light dinner with friends we set out. First was a small and tightly packed bar with Rivka, and several of her friends from work. It was fun until Rivka decided she wanted to go home early. She insisted that I stay and enjoy my night with Gal and some of the other girls. So I did. I met some weird kids who followed me around like puppy dogs for a while and then Gal and I left to go to another bar… Shoshana.

Shoshana was a reminder that I am not 18 anymore. I danced with friends for a while, had a few shots of Vodka, had Arrack (a licorice type of clear liquor that I hate BTW) poured all over me. Literally all over my shirt. Apparently the bartender can’t pour a bottle shot to save his life. Later in the evening I found myself dancing on the bar with Gal. Again, flashback… remember Chris… lol

The evening ended earlier than I would have liked but I still had fun. I guess that was the important part… to experience, document, and have fun. Here’s to hoping next year will surpass the last. Never know… maybe next year we’ll go crazy in Tel Aviv!