Anger, Bewilderment

As I write this, I have not imbibed any alcohol, despite my afore stated love of whiskey.

In case anyone reading this doesn't know, we are now at war with Hezbollah, in the north. We have in fact, been at war with them since the Hamas attack in the south on October 7th, 2023.  Hezbollah began sending rockets on October 8th. Our prime minister has not seen fit to defend and help the 100,000 refugees from the north for almost a year. The same way he has not come to any agreement about the hostages in Gaza. 

I have been going faithfully to demonstrations every Saturday night for over a year.  Recently, I have become unclear why I bother - whatever we do falls upon deaf ears. Nothing changes,  it just gets worse and worse and worse.  There is no plan for after the war with Hamas, and now suddenly we have gone to war with the North "to return our refugees." What kind of a plan is that?

I am utterly bewildered - I cannot understand how this will help the refugees return - the idea of a ground invasion horrifies me, I can't see the point of continued assassinations. 

Just to remind anyone reading this - this is my opinion. I am not a politician, I am not a strategist, all I can do is voice my opinion.  Before the demonstration last Saturday evening I again began considering - "it is hot, should I go? what difference does it make?" This inner debate continued for half an hour, then I decided to go.

On the way I received a photo of the grandson of someone living in New York. This person is an Israeli. Supposedly he knows what is going on here.  But never once has he asked how I am, or how any of his friends are.  It is the third photo of the grandson in as many days.  I suddenly experienced a rage directed at him, but obviously coming from a deep place of sorrow and confusion in me.  I texted him that we are living in two different worlds, the world I inhabit is one of sorrow, anger, fear, confusion, anxiety, uncertainty. It is not enhanced by a barrage of photos of a new baby.

I arrived at the demonstration feeling my rage boiling over. I picked up the flag and stood at the bridge to listen to the speeches.  A psychiatrist spoke. She said  she knows that most of us there experience depression, anxiety, uncertainty, hopelessness - she knows we don't know whether to continue demonstrating, or whether just to take to our beds and not get up any more.  Then she said - 'that is the state that our government thrive on - they can continue to do what they want, because of the silence of the majority. What they cannot deal with, what they fear most of all, is rage.  It is rage that will change things."

Hah, justified.

And so, almost a week of hell has passed since then, missile attacks, sirens, talks of a cease fire,  no cease fire, the frequent flying Prime Minister and his wife (a journalist has labeled him as a frequent flyer) is off to speak at the UN - and here I am, experiencing rage.  And I am not alone - a rage is boiling over.

What will be the outcome? - No one knows. It doesn't seem like anything positive at all as we get closer to Rosh Hashana and the anniversary of 7th October 2023.

Please pray for everyone here in the Middle East. EVERYONE.

Let there be some clarity. Even just a teeny weeny ray of light.

Whiskey

I like whiskey, even though a very good friend of mine, who shall not be named, has told me I am not a true whiskey drinker.  The reason  for this insult is that I told her that I simply cannot drink whiskey when the average night time temperature is  90 degrees.  In other words, it is bloody hot and sticky here in Israel, and has been so for three months.  She insisted that a true whiskey lover will partake, no matter the weather.

As you know, I live in a retirement community.  One of the more delightful residents - a former South African, and a whiskey drinker, has been rather unwell for some time.  This has been very upsetting, of course to her, but also to those of us who enjoy her company. She has a devoted Philippina attendant who cares for her.  She wheels her and her maltese poodle to all the activities, concerts, and lectures she is able to attend. She wheels her to the park at sunset, and to the clinic for her medical appointments. 

In the past, when the resident was in a better state, she would invite me and another resident  over at 6.00 for a 'drinky.' The attendant would faithfully replenish the ice and make delicious appetisers. These delightful activities have been on hold for quite too long as the woman has been in and out of hospital. 

Recently, since she has improved somewhat, she will call to invite me over, only to call later to cancel.  This week she asked me over for Monday night, then canceled.  Wednesday also was a no go.  However Thursday morning she said to me "it is on tonight for 6, but we won't be a threesome. I have invited a number of people, but I can't remember who. Come to me at 6, and whenever the bell goes we will see who walks in.

I went over at 6. Her wheelchair stroller was parked by the door.   I walked in to see  a couple sitting around the hostess' recliner. He had a tumbler of whiskey, and she had a glass of white wine.  They are an elderly (redundant word) former South African couple.  My hostess' way of introduction was to tell them I enjoyed whiskey.  I then quoted my friend.  The man said, of course you can drink it in summer, just put in lots of ice. The hostess in her recliner, dog at her feet, held a tumbler of whiskey.  The man poured me a healthy shot and we drank lechaim.  After a knock at the door a very large female resident came into the small apartment  with her stroller. She navigated to a chair, and said "whiskey is mother's milk to me."  I poured her a healthy shot, and the attendant replenished the ice bucket.

 The hostess was ready for a second shot.  A short while later another knock and in came a strong Philippina attendant carrying a very frail looking man. He didn't look very good! She propped him on the sofa,  and poured him a whiskey!  Then the man's wife came in walking alone with a cane. She had a glass of wine.  

The man is 100 and was a doctor. His body as I said, is  frail - but his mind seemed fine.  He had left his hearing aids at home, as had some of the others, but after repeated yelling he answered questions to the point, made suggestions, and generally engaged in the conversation which centred around whiskey, medications, and King Charles hugging some paralympic competitors.  That was surprising, because the King is NOT supposed to hug anyone.  From Charles the conversation turned to Winston Churchill who thrived on alcohol and cigars, and the Queen Mother who tippled away at gin and tonics, and also lived to a ripe old age.  Princess Margaret was also a heavy drinker, but she died much earlier.  We agreed that being a prime minister of a country at war, or being born to royalty, is a heavy burden, and probably it was eased by alcohol.  We did NOT mention our prime minister.

The hostess was ready for a third, the woman who told us whiskey was mother's milk to her hurried to catch up. The first man there also wanted a third but his wife seemed somewhat averse to the idea, so he said to her "yes dear,"  and didn't have a third.  He told me the secret to a good marriage is two words "yes dear" and it seems to have worked for them. 

The hostess drank her third, because, after all she didn't have to stand up and get wheeled or push a stroller anywhere.  She looked far better than she has looked in a long while. I suggested she give up her medications and just have whiskey.  This was repeated several times in question form to the frail deaf doctor. Once he heard the suggestion,  he raised his second glass in her direction and said lechaim.  Obviously he concurred.

Anyone ready for a shot?

Single malt for me.