Sunday, October 16, 2016
It is deeply upsetting to see the newspaper headlines and watch the news on TV. So much so that I have stopped reading or listening to anything at all about the abhorrent political campaign, if one can call it that. I remember when I worked in home health almost all the families I visited in the afternoon seemed to spend their days watching either Jerry Springer, or Maury Povitch ('who is the baby daddy?") or Dr. Phil, and judge shows, or equally awful spanish versions of reality TV and judge shows. I was just apalled to see the sick people I was working with intently watching other supposed humans pulling each others' hair, pummeling each other, screaming epithets. They seemed to be amused by all of this, and I thought to myself, just how low can everything go? Now we see it with our politicians and supposed role models, sinking lower each moment. Not to mention all the other horrors going on. So the other day I was driving somewhere and was listening to NPR, when I heard the most alarming piece of news. Global warming is causing a world wide coffee shortage!!!!! OMG, I think I can survive anything, but a coffee shortage!?! There followed long depressing interviews with Brazilian coffee farmers who are failing to produce any coffee because of the ongoing drought. My alarmed mind then hopped on to Africa where there is a drought, and wars. Likewise with Yemen. What does one do? Stockpile coffee? This, as I have said, is just too awful a vision of the future to even contemplate. Help .....
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
I have two dates that I will never ever forget. The date of Yom Kipur changes every year according to the Hebrew Calendar. The Yom Kipur War started at 2o'clock on a warm Saturday in Israel. That year the date was October 6 1973. That is the date that my life and my world changed. This year I awoke on 6th October. The sun came out like every other day. For everyone it was another day - to awake, perform morning rituals; listen to the news, drink coffee, exercise, meditate, whatever one does every morning. But I know that for me, and for everyone of a certain age in Israel, and the Middle East, it is a day that stands out crystal clear in our memories, and always will. I continued my day as I always do, but inside my head, like a tape on constant reply, I saw the events of that day. I remember the moment David Solomon came up to a group of us at the pool and said, "there is a war, turn on your radios." That was the day my husband, Raymond (Rafi) Lowenberg was killed by shrapnel from a missile fired by the Egyptian army at his bunker, Budapest, on the supposedly impregnable Bar Lev line. Usually I am in Israel at this time, but this year I am not, and so I was thinking how strange it is that for everyone here, this is just another day. But then I received a Whats App from a dear dear Israeli friend asking how today is for me. Later I came home to a message from another friend from Israel. Both of them are not presently in Israel, but for them too, this day is unique. For all of us who lived through those times, we are united by filaments of shared experiences and memories, and we shall always be, until we, too, pass from this earth.