My Declaration of Independence

         One of the most obvious drawbacks of making aliyah is that you will leave your family and friends, many of the people you love most in this world. But not only do these people give you the most emotional support in your life, they often provide the physical support you don't even realize you need. This post is dedicated to the most independent person I have come to know these past thirteen months- myself. Now before you go thinking, "This narcissistic brat. Who does she think she is, calling herself the most independent?" I implore you to read on and let me explain.
        I did not move to Israel after high school. I did not move after college, nor even after grad school. I did not move after my first time leaving home. I left as a full-fledged adulting adult. So when I moved, I never thought of myself as anything other than a mature, together, self-sufficient woman. Boy, was I wrong. My first few months here I couldn't have really even known. I was living in ulpan, with all my basic needs and schedule taken care of, going about my business with my errands and tasks keeping me busy. It wasn't until I moved out and on my own that I realized how essentially alone I was out here. I never realized how much I actually depended on people back in NYC to help me in tiny little ways.
      If I needed furniture moved or fixed, my dad was always right there. If I needed to pick up a notebook or cardigan, my mom would gladly get it for me on her next Target run. If I needed a ride to the airport at 3AM, my little sister would do it with a yawn and a smile. And if I needed anything else, I knew there was an assortment of lifelong friends, willing and able to help out. This is not the case here in Israel. When I needed my disaster of a couch fixed for the umpteenth time, and the guy who said he'd help me stopped answering my texts, I starting eating cereal on a folding chair. When I need a notebook or cardigan, I schlep my weary body to Max Stock or Castro after work and I get it myself. When I need a ride to the airport, I undergo the brutal abuse that is calling Nesher (cab-share service) and allow them to berate me in aggressive Hebrew and then drop me off 4 hours before my flight. And for anything else, I weigh how much I really need it versus the discomfort of asking a new friend for help if I don't really, truly need it.
          Let me give you an example of my new- found independence that just occurred this week. I have been in the market for a small cabinet for months. I have been following all the buying, swapping and selling in various Facebook groups to find the right size at the right price. Finally, a friend was giving one away! But how to transport it? I called a few friends who reminded me "hi, we don't have cars either!" Then I called someone I'm quite close with who didn't have the time/didn't want to (we're still close, but it was touch and go) I called and called various friends until I had to let her give the cabinet to someone else. I realized in that moment that in America: my dad could have helped me move it, my mom could have bought me one from IKEA, and I myself could have heaved it into my own car. Here in Israel- nothing. You may ask- why didn't you take a cab? Excellent question! Fact is, I couldn't stomach getting ripped off and paying more for the 3 minute ride than the cabinet was worth. So sue me. Finally, yesterday, I found a cabinet! It's made of plastic (meh) and the size and price were right. I decided to do this alone.
          Do you know what a Bubby Cart is? Maybe you know it as a "grocery cart" but I call it a Bubby Cart because it's what all the little Jerusalem Bubbies (grandmas) use to schlep their groceries around the shuk/market. So I recently bought a rather fancy one (thanks, mom!) and I took off the bag to fashion myself a bit of a dolly. I took the bus to the seller's apartment and boom- first hurdle- no elevator. It's cool, she helps me bring it down the 3 flights and I put it on the "dolly." No ropes? No problem- I'll just hold on to it for dear life. Made it to the bus stop with little trouble and only mildly horrified stares greet me. What- haven't you ever seen people move medium/large furniture on a public bus? I get on the bus and I am chilling. I mean, I'm winning at life! Spoke too soon. See, school hasn't started yet for the children of Israel, so at a stop between there and home, not one, not two, but three moms with carriages and 2 spare kids each load the bus. And not just the bus. The exact area where me and cabinet are. How big is this bus, you wonder? It's a double bus with nothing but empty space for the kids to frolic if they so chose. Which they did not. They chose to stand directly on my toes. Live, love Israel, amiright? So one mom gets off, then the next and finally I'm thinking I hit the trifecta, but no, Mom #3 decides to try and let me out. But in the process, she blocks the door and knocks off 2 of my cabinet's plastic feet. Whoops. Finally I get out of the bus and decide to take the light rail down the home stretch. And good news! It's only 3 minutes away! And it stays 3 minutes away for the next 10 minutes. Ultimately, the sign switched to "train stopped" and I realize it's me and my cabinet, bumping down Jaffa Street at rush hour, with the judging eyes of all Jerusalem upon me.

Me, my cabinet, and the #74 Bus

          One things that's really fun (read: infuriating) about people in Jerusalem is that they stop for no reason, for any length of time, in the middle of the street, whenever. It is the most bizarre phenomenon. So there I go, bobbing and weaving around the human statues, trying to will the street shorter or the cabinet lighter or the weather cooler (it goes without saying that I was not enjoying the August Jerusalem heat at the moment.) I'm almost there, I can see my block, and the cabinet slips off the dolly with a thud. After some colorful language and a quick "why me?" a sweet girl offers to help me. I first say no, my independence speaking for me, but then allow her to help me so I can make the last few feet on my own. I schlep the cabinet up my stairs, alone, clean and stock the shelves and drink about 2 liters of water, unbelievably (maybe too?) proud of my accomplishment.
         Are all my tasks this huge and difficult? No way. Doesn't anyone ever help me? I would be remiss to not mention the amazing people in this country who help me in countless ways every day- the people who let me use their laundry machines and the kind souls who have me for meals. The generous people who give me rides when they can and the incredible friends who offer me support when I'm sick or sad. Israel is full of beautiful, kind-hearted people who I know I will grow to need and count on just as much as they people I left.

    But for right now, I am still new here. I haven't yet built my family and my friendships are still young. You can't make an old friend in less than a year. So I will continue to fix my own appliances and move my own furniture. I will pick up my own necessities and find my own way to the party. I will even figure out a way to fix my good-for-nothing couch somehow. Because I have decided to move away from my safety net and totally on my own- and I wouldn't change that decision for anything. And if you need me, I'll be eating cereal on my folding chair.

A No Good, Very Bad Deal

I have been hesitant to write about the Iran deal for a while now, for a few reasons. One is that this blog is about my life as an olah, and I wasn't sure a political opinion piece had its place here. The other was that I have so much to say on the subject, and I haven't been able to adequately gather all my disparate thoughts into one cohesive post. The third reason is that, generally, I want this blog to be light and silly. All these fears have been put to bed. First, this deal affects every one of us in Israel and the US, most especially those of us who moved here to Israel from elsewhere and plan to stay. That makes it truly a vital part of my experience as an olah. Second, I've decided that this probably won't be the only post I write about this deal, so I may as well start somewhere. The third is that while light and fluffy may be my mood most of the time, serious times call for serious words. The world we live in is not always going to be funny cab drivers and Hebrew gaffes. Sometimes it's going to be crazy mullahs and their nuclear ambitions.

Today I was corresponding with one of my former Birthright participants about the Iran deal. This was interesting for a few reasons. One, this was not a participant I often chat with, about geopolitical issues or otherwise. Second, this was not someone I knew to be overly concerned with Israel specifically. Like many of my former Birthright friends, they are peripherally aware of what's happening here, generally positively inclined toward Israel and overall not too involved with Israeli politics. This time, though, I think even non-involved Jewish Americans are taking note of how bad this deal is for Israel as a country in general, and me in Israel on a personal level. 

If this were two years ago and I was sitting in NYC, following the intricacies of this deal, I have no doubt I'd be equally furious. I'd be calling my senators and attending rallies. I'd be posting on Facebook and engaging in constant debates with friends and coworkers. It would be a huge issue for me, just like it is now. But there would be a difference. I would be worried-- on behalf of my Israeli friends. I would be concerned-- for my family in Israel. I would be anxious-- for the foreign country I held so dear. All that is completely different from my current emotional state. I feel a numbing fear for the future of my friends, family and myself here in the Jewish state.

I am a realist to the end. Not a pessimist, not an optimist, just a realist. When a country bent on the destruction of Israel screams from the rafters "Death to Israel! Death to America!" I believe them. When the Iranian negotiators celebrate the amazing deal they made with the world powers, giving them the money, time and ingredients to realize all their nuclear ambitions, I take notice. The deal completely baffles me. From my understanding (and exhaustive research) I have concluded that: The Iranians now have tons of money and freedom to develop "nuclear capability", no oversight from the USA (as we are not an ally nation and therefore do not have the right of oversight), sanctions lifted and the stamp of approval from world powers to let a totalitarian Islamist regime join the community of democratic nations. Am I missing anything? Probably, but let's see what we in the free world get in return! Oversight of nuclear facilities (although not by the USA, and not for about a month from our request, and not for several years from now), and the assurance of a murderous regime that they will try not to destroy the world when they have the chance. Sounds like a bargain to me!

But why would America agree to this? What do they actually gain? Why the desire for this clearly lopsided agreement? From what I gleaned, the USA gets 1) probably a Nobel Peace Prize for John Kerry (score!) 2) a signature from an extremely hostile country (knew we could do it!) 3) a legacy for Obama (I got Iran to sign an agreement! So what if it's only good for them- they signed!) and... that's about it. "But Jordana," you protest, "we had to sign this agreement for the peace of the world! There would have been war!" Well, friend, now I'm confused. Where was I during this impending war declaration? I keep myself quite well up to date with current events- I'm a total news junkie. I hadn't heard a word about Iran gearing up to take on the strongest country in the world. I did hear about the sanctions strangling them and keeping them from furthering their nuclear development. I did hear that even with these sanctions, they were the leading funder of terror in the world, via their proxies in Hezbollah and Hamas, among many others. But I did not hear about this phantom war that was thankfully averted by this dismal agreement. "Well, Jordana", you continue, "none of you war-mongering, right-wing Neocons (as many are wont to call anyone who opposes this deal) had any better ideas for how to deal with Iran." Well, that's not at all true. How about tougher sanctions? How about no agreement without Iran promising not to annihilate Israel? How about Iran releasing the 4 American prisoners they currently hold? How about more oversight into their current facilities? How about anything at all to reign this regime in, just a little? Was securing the signature of a violent Islamist regime (committed to world domination) so important that you don't care at all that Israel will be collateral damage? For many American Jews, the answer is of course no. Millions of dollars are being spent to damage Israel's credibility and push forward this terrifying deal, by my fellow American Jews. And to me, that is a tragedy.

Because I know that if I was still in America, I would do everything in my power to protect my Israeli brothers and sisters. Even the spectre, the possibility, that this deal could bring the Iranians closer to a nuclear bomb would chill my bones. The remotest possible prospect that in 10 years time, a country entirely bent on Israel's destruction could have the capability to do it, would compel me to try and stop this travesty by any means. When a radical regime says they want to destroy Israel, American Jews, why don't you believe them? When they scream in front of tens of thousands of their citizens "Death to America! Death to Israel!," why don't you listen? When the overwhelming majority of Israelis, Left and Right-Wing alike, fear and oppose this deal- why don't you at least question it? When the possibility of Jewish life in Israel is in danger of being destroyed by those who currently fund world terror is rapidly becoming a probability, why don't you stand with your Jewish brothers and sisters? And why do I need to even write this, to implore you to stand with us? Why don't you care enough about our well-being that you want to keep us safe without question? Why do you feel it necessary to not only not stand with us, but actively stand against us? That is what breaks my heart. You have the ability to fight on the front lines for us- in New York and LA, Washington, DC and wherever else you are. You have the power to stand up for your friends and family in Israel like American Jews haven't had to in 70 years, why won't you do it?

Wow. I just got emotional, I know. I'd imagine if you're not in agreement with me on this issue, you're seeing me as overly paranoid, too pessimistic and basically an all-around doomsday alarmist. And it's possible you're right. But the realist in me believes Khameini when he shouts for my destruction. The realist in me sees the terror wrought by Hamas and Hezbollah now and imagines a world where their funders have 150 billion more dollars with which to target my fellow Israelis. The realist in me sees no benefit from this current agreement, both as an Israeli and an American. And the realist in me sees the possibility that in 10 years, the family I hope to have in Israel and raise in Israel could be gravely threatened by this terrifying deal. And what use will this blog post be then? I don't want to ever say "I told you so." I want to say "Thank G-d we were saved. That was close."

May G-d bless Israel and America, and keep His nation safe.

In Tribute to a Friend

       About a year ago, I wrote a blog post about how one of the toughest parts of making Aliyah alone, away from most of your family and friends, is not being present for the happy occasions. The weddings and bar mitzvahs, milestone birthdays and births. There will of course be the ones where you absolutely have to fly in and be there, but by and large you will miss some of the happiest days in your loved ones' lives. And that's a pain that exists separate from the happiness and contentment you have from living life in Israel. But those are the happy times. This is a world away from the deeper, more intense pain an Oleh will feel missing the sad stuff. Because life goes on back where you left it, and there's little you can do when you're six thousand miles away.

       Why am I bringing this up now anyway? Last night a very close family friend lost her valiant battle against illness. Michelle was just 31 years old, a mother of two and pregnant with her third. She felt ill and was diagnosed with a brain tumor. As her friends and family waited for further news, we all held our collective breaths. Not Michelle, this light in our lives who had already lost her father and brother in her short time here on Earth. Not Michelle, who was a living embodiment of goodness and kindness, beloved by everyone she ever met. And then came the verdict- a malignant brain tumor, the worst possible outcome. Michelle was put under and gave birth to a premature but healthy baby girl. 

        And the inhabitants of our world were galvanized- prayers and charity, hospital visits and more prayers. A miracle was needed, we all knew, and if anyone in the world deserved it, it was Michelle. But the miracle never came, and 3 beautiful little girls lost their mother. It is a sickening feeling to wake up to the news of someone so unbelievably good passing away so young and so unfairly. It is awful knowing that I can't be there at her funeral, can't pay a shiva call personally to her family and can't sit with my sister, one of Michelle's best friends for fifteen years, as she cries and mourns. These are things you can not do when you live so far away, and losses will invariably continue to happen in my life here. All I can do is be there for whomever, pay a shiva call by phone, and use this blog to pay tribute to one of the most special people I've ever known.

       In tribute to Michelle, who cared about everyone she ever met more than she ever did herself. Who would do whatever she could to make you smile, make you happy, make you feel good. To Michelle who was loyal and fun, committed to her family, friends and G-d, and never judged anyone. To Michelle, who this world was blessed to have and will be forever dimmed by her loss. And to Michelle, who was a true gift to anyone lucky enough to know her, to be in her presence and to have known her goodness for the short time she was here. May her memory be for a blessing and may her soul have the highest possible Aliyah. 

Aliyaversary

            I was just talking to a friend about getting older (as one does when they get older). When you're looking back on the previous years, do you really remember the differences between one year and the next? Was there something significant about the year I turned 23 to distinguish it from the year I turned 27? Not particularly. Maybe I made some new friends, maybe I switched cars or apartments. But fundamentally, each year that passed living in New York was by and large similar to the one before it. That all changed exactly a year ago.

           Today is my one year aliyaversary, the anniversary of when I made Aliyah! This also marks the end of the most significant and impactful year of my adult life thus far. It also marks a little over one year since I started this blog, inviting you all on this crazy journey, one post at a time. Over the course of twelve months and over 50 posts, I have tried to convey the good, the wild, the infuriating, the confusing and the awesomeness that is moving to Israel, as a single American girl. 

          Moving here seems like madness. You leave your family, your language, your neighborhood Target, your customer service, your SUV and essentially everything you have known, to chase a dream you think you have. And you hear it will be tough, but you feel like you're tougher. You hear you will lose out of material happiness, which you gladly trade for the promise of spiritual richness. You hear that you will miss your family and friends, but you intend to make new friends that will become your family. You hear that the Hebrew will trip you up, but luckily everyone here wants to practice their English. You hear that the way of life here is so different, so you do your best to infuse a little of your American personality into the prickly Sabra atmosphere. And you try and find your place here in Israel- to become the best Israeli version of yourself that you can.

         When I look back in the milestones of this past year, I am, quite frankly, kinda shocked. I started and completed ulpan, lived through a war my first month here, published my blog in 2 online newspapers, switched over my license, found and furnished my apartment, voted in a national election, spent a month on unemployment, started 2 jobs and am now employed in another one I truly enjoy, visited NYC for Passover, made new friends and connected with old ones, improved my Hebrew (kacha kacha), and only cried over the bureaucracy 5 times, tops! That's probably more than I accomplished in the past 5 years in New York combined! 

         Is all this because I'm super special? No, not at all! It's because I truly believe that this is where I'm meant to be for the rest of my life. I am still asked regularly if I plan on moving back one day. Honestly, I didn't even realize that was an option! Only being here and meeting and hearing about people who go back to their native countries did I even know that Aliyah wasn't a permanent choice for everyone who does it. I'm not casting any blame on anyone. There are a million valid reasons someone who moves to Israel realizes it's not the place they're meant to be in the long run. I'm not in anyone else's shoes, and I realize everyone is different. From my perspective, however, my plan is that this is my forever home (bli ayin hara!). It's exciting to be the little branch who broke off my European/American family tree and hopped over the ocean to plant new roots in Israel. And I'm lucky that I have an incredible family who supports me in living my dream here (as hard as it is for them that I'm far away.) I also pray regularly that my friends and family will get sick of the freedom, luxury and comfort of America and decide to move here with me! It's not looking good, but miracles happen!

          I want to thank some people for making this year what it was. My family in America for loving me long distance, and my friends in America for cheering me on. My new friends in Israel for easing the bouts of loneliness one can't help but have here, and joining me for 5 shekel Goldstars on a Thursday night. My teachers in ulpan for fighting valiantly to infuse some much needed Hebrew into my insanely Anglo-centric life. The bus drivers, goverment employees, phone company workers, bank tellers and countless other Israeli-born individuals who have toughened me up and made me a much stronger person, mentally and emotionally. I had a head- start being from New York, but nothing prepares you for a bus driver literally closing the door on your fingers as you ask if this bus goes to town. Thank you to those who applaud and support my decision to move here and thank you even more so to those who ridicule and question it- who force me to qualify all the million reasons this crazy, difficult, wonderful life in Israel is the life I am blessed to have. Thank you to the people of Israel who make me proud to be amongst you, and grateful to live in our eternal Homeland. And thank you to the readers of this blog- both people I know and those I have never met. Your feedback, both complimentary and critical, has been invaluable, and I hope to continue on this journey with you for years to come. 

           And thank you to HaShem, "Who has granted us life and sustained us and enabled us to reach this occasion- Shehecheyanu Lazman Hazeh." See you next time, in Jerusalem.

Work in Progress

I may have mentioned before that I live in the center of Downtown Jerusalem. Reactions to this information are mixed. They range from “That is so so cool!” to “Um, why?” The short answer is that I wanted to live alone and this was the best and most affordable option, while still being walking distance to everywhere other single Orthodox Jews live. And for the most part, my apartment situation has been an utter delight. My apartment is light and airy, tiny but perfectly sized for me, and truly in a fabulously central location. Almost no complaints. Almost. Although, I do have at least one complaint, and IT IS HUGE.

One of the things people worried about with me living in town is the noise. (No one here was worried it was dangerous to live there alone, because #Israel.) They thought my proximity to bars and restaurants would keep me up at night and cause me untold angst. For some reason, though, the noise of the restaurants and bars barely registers in my little studio. Even though they are open every night (including Friday night- sigh) and even though I am only one flight up and leave my windows open for the breeze, it is not the boisterous chatter of people much more social than me that is causing me the most distress. It is the roadwork.

Most people who now hear where I live wonder, “Haven’t they been working on your street for a while now?” Why yes, kind friends, they have! They have been working on “fixing” my street since before I moved in, and I have no doubt, will continue working on it till long after I am gone (either after my lease is up or at 120, whichever comes first.) I would like to say that the municipality is working on a huge upgrade to both the city and the world, based on the amount of time this renovation is taking, but I literally have no clue what the plan is with this street, and it’s been 6 months!

Site of "Construction/Brick Moving/Earsplitting Noise" at Night

They seem to be moving the barriers side to side, incrementally, weekly. I am pretty sure they are doing this purposely, to mess with me. Sometimes they will put down new bricks, sometimes, those bricks are gone the next day. Sometimes there are cranes and bulldozers, other times, shovels and jackhammers. Sometimes there are barriers, sometimes you are free to wander in and fall to your death in an unguarded hole in the ground. It’s truly an exciting game of “What on earth are they doing?”

But honestly, I wouldn’t care at all if they wanted to build a new light rail line through the street if it wasn’t such a huge, life-altering inconvenience to me with no foreseeable end. Take, for example, the fact that the road is essentially a one-car-at-a-time quagmire that is perpetually filled with honking cars. If, for some reason, I wished to subject someone giving me a ride, or a cab driver to that mess, that would be one thing. But even if I did, I’d be caught in a web of gates, keeping me from my door, unless I wanted to climb back up the block and then down, or down the block and then back up. That is to say, there is no point in getting a ride to my block, as I will essentially have to walk 2 extra blocks anyway. This also makes food or grocery delivery all but impossible, as I feel horrible making anyone deal with the construction zone that is my street. You can imagine what a delight this was during the weeks I was moving in and delivery men would come with my furniture. No amount of “I’m so sorry” could wipe the scowls off their faces after tangling with my street.

But truly, the worst part is the noise, as everyone had warned me. See, in New York, road work and construction work in general are often done overnight (on highways) and on private streets during working hours, so as not to disrupt the sleeping residents of that area. Not so in downtown Jerusalem! Prime brick- moving hours are from 6-8 AM and premium jackhammering takes place from 10pm to 12 am most nights. In case you’re playing at home, that’s before most people wake up and while most people are trying to get to sleep! And if you’re wondering what is going on from 8 am until 10 pm in that construction area… you guessed it! Nothing! Perhaps the workers are catching up on all that sleep they’re missing while they assault my eardrums late at night and early the next morning. And lest you think it’s just the jackhammering and bulldozing that make up the soundtrack to my life these days, there is also varying levels of screaming that takes place amongst the workers as they move their bricks. And I assure you, there are few things more melodious than a man yelling “Ahmed! Ahmed!” at his friend who is down the block, jackhammering, oblivious to any other sounds. Only I am privy to the constant and unending calls of “Ahmed!,” as Ahmed works to blow out my hearing faculties from a different vantage point.

And here it is in the daytime-true beauty!

I think I had basically learned to block the sounds out, and then it became summer and I started leaving my windows open for air, and then the sounds traveled from outside and magically ended up right near my bed. Sometimes, I don’t notice that it’s that bad and then a friend will sleep over and inform me in the morning that she “couldn’t sleep a wink” due to all the noise. And then I feel terrible, because my goal in life is to be an amazing hostess and show people the best Jerusalem time imaginable.

So that’s basically what it’s like to live on a construction site for 6 months, stretching out into infinity. Do I think the work will ever be done? In my low moments- no. I assume they are building an underground tunnel to China or spearheading a Jerusalem subway project on my block without telling anyone. I imagine there are no actual plans for the street, and that the brick-moving will continue, interminably, forever. Who really knows? All I know is that it’s another way Israel is showing me that it’s not perfect, because nothing is perfect. There will be bumps along the way, but I think living on a noisy street in Jerusalem beats living on a quiet street in Queens any day!

Taking the "Home" Out of Homeland

         Today I was informed that I am not a resident of Israel, as I previously believed. Six Supreme Court Justices from the United States informed me that, as far as they were concerned, I am a resident of Jerusalem, Full Stop. Or Jerusalem, Earth. What has been universally regarded as the capital of the Jewish homeland for 67 (and over 3,000) years is suddenly in no man's land, a casualty of those who would rather see this city as part of a political agenda, instead of a home to thousands of Israelis. 
          And so Jerusalem, which is the home of the Knesset and the Supreme Court, and the city mentioned in Torah almost 700 times and never once in the Koran, is apparently not to be considered the capital of the Jewish State. Because they say so. And so, please G-d, when I have children who will hopefully be born in some hospital in undisputed and US-sanctioned West Jerusalem, and I apply for an American passport (because I still love and appreciate the country of my birth), those children with be from "Jerusalem, the Universe." "Jerusalem, Nowhere." "Jerusalem, We are too scared of World Opinion to be honest and say it's Israel."
          To me, this is a real tragedy. It's negated what our ancestors died for, in Jewish history and in the history of this State. And if I'm honest, it's an act of defiance against our own self-determination. We are being told that the United States is denying our right to choose our own capital. The Cabinet is ostensibly saying that, so as not to offend the minority, you must gravely insult the majority. This whole debacle does nothing but weaken the Jewish claim to this city, and perhaps that is the point. Perhaps there is an unsaid goal that if people say Jerusalem isn't really part of Israel, it will make it so. And the army of anti-Zionists and anti-Semites worldwide is jubilant at this public slight. Just looking at the comments sections of the various articles about this case will give you a glimpse into the international damage this is causing to a people that suffers one assault after another. The comments are rife with hate and fresh anti-semitic epithets, showing us all that yet again, we are alone in our fight for justice. The United States, our eternal and natural ally, is the country that is now causing all of Israel's detractors to crow with delight, turning this basically clerical issue into one that threatens our very legitimacy in this city.
           Well I, for one, refuse to be told that the capital city of Israel is not actually located in Israel. I refuse to believe that due to political correctness and a fear of condemnation from the Arab World (and- gasp! Europe), children born in Jerusalem have no country to call their own. And I pray for the day when the State Department and the president and the Supreme Court of the USA agree with me and change this ridiculous ruling. But until that time, I remain a proud resident of Jerusalem, eternal capital city of the State of Israel.

Me in a Jerusalem Tshirt with an Israeli flag- sorry State Department!

This Is Just a Drill

        It is 7:10 PM, Jerusalem time. I just left the stairwell of my very old apartment building, following the second emergency siren today. Don't panic. If you're concerned because you haven't been up on the news today, there's no great cause for alarm. These sirens were planned weeks (and maybe months) ago to prepare the nation in case of war. We require these drills like elementary school kids require fire drills- in case of emergency. And yet we know all too well that in this country, an emergency is a very real possibility. I don't mean to scare anyone, especially in the relative calm that we Jerusalemites have been, thank G-d, enjoying these past few months. But today was a wake-up call, that those of us who live here can get comfortable, just not too comfortable with the status quo.

       I read that today is one year since the "three boys" went missing. In case you don't know, I'm referring to Eyal, Gilad and Naftali- three Israeli boys who were kidnapped and killed in short order, but whose whereabouts were unknown for weeks, causing Jews in Israel and around the world to unify in a way that had never happened before to my memory. I can remember in my life pre-aliyah, going to a rally in the center of Manhattan, demanding the release of the boys (who we hoped were still alive) and praying with a fervor reserved for Yom Kippur. I can remember Jews coming together regardless of observance level or denomination or political orientation, praying for the safe release of our Jewish brothers. As we all know, it was not meant to be. The boys were killed immediately, but their whereabouts remained hidden for those torturous weeks. A revenge attack on an Arab boy followed, vilified by almost all Jews, because even in our deepest grief, that is not how we as Jews behave. And then the rockets. And the sirens. And the tunnels discovered. And the human shields. And the soldiers' funerals with mourners in the thousands. And the Iron Dome in all it's blessed glory. And the canceled Israel trips. And the ceasefires. And the ceasefires broken by Hamas in mere hours. And the flight cancellations. And then the quiet. The quiet end to a summer deferred.

             A year has passed since that crazy, scary, incomprehensible time and today I heard my first siren in almost that long. And it wasn't to warn me that a rocket was headed my way. It wasn't sounded to warn me that we were living in a war zone, and that we had just 90 seconds here in Jerusalem to take cover. It was to remind me that here in Israel, with enemies named Hezbollah and Hamas, Syria and Iran- we will always be targeted, so we must make sure that we stay safe as a country, and that we stay strong as a nation. Am Yisrael Chai.