Does the Number 4 Stop Here?

Public Transportation Israel Style:

After a small fiasco with an Arab cab driver yesterday, I though that I might try to be completely Israel tonight and jump on a bus.

--SIDE STORY-- Leaving Yad VaShem yesterday was difficult enough emotionally without having to decide between Ahmed, Muhammad, Abdul and Yusuf as cab drivers, so I took the one that "looked" the most *maybe Israeli* and told him where I needed to go.

I engaged in some small talk here and there about the weather - COLD! - the basketball game on TV last night, and every one's FAVORITE topic, האח הגדול VIP, Big Brother VIP. Before long (2 minutes into the ride) he stops the cab and asks if I will allow him to pick up additional passengers. This usually results in a lower fare for me, even though it may take a few extra minutes. AND, the first person that was already getting INTO the front seat of the taxi was an Ethiopian woman carrying a bag of laundry and a bag of fruit. I'm already feeling sorry for this lady. What am I going to say, NO? We travel about six minutes, and she gets out, pays him 20 Shekels, and we are on our way. For 36 seconds. Two high schoolers get on. They are headed to my street - Not my block, but Emek Refaim anyway you slice it. They give him another 20 and when MY ride should have cost maybe NIS30, I figured I was home free!

Until I got home three minutes later, and the driver (Yusuf) asked me for FIFTY SHEKELS!!! His reply? It is the METER! LOOK AT METER! he says in perfect Arabic Ivrit. I asked him if I could pay him 10 or we could go talk to the police lady on the corner. He took 15 and we were done. MORAL: Look for a sign in the car like a Mezuzah or Hebrew newspaper on the front seat, or something.

Bus fare in Jerusalem is NIS5.90 ($1.40), the cab is usually NIS30.00 ($4.75), so to save three bucks, I figured, if 14 year old kids can take a bus, why can't I?

In my heart of hearts, though, I knew that if I tried things that for others are simple, I would get myself into trouble, but even so, I tried and got on bus this evening! The number 4 picked me up right on Emek Refaim - about a 14 second walk from the apartment and headed north to King George and right to Ben Yehuda Street.

I assumed, apparently wrongly, that if I found the #4 bus headed in the EXACT OPPOSITE direction, with the SAME driver, it **should** take me right back from where I came. Right?

Not so right. The bus zigged this way, and zagged that way; Turned right on this street and turned left on that street, all the while letting passengers off the bus. Come to think of it, I did not see even ONE person get ON the bus tonight!

After twenty minutes or so, I noticed that there were two passengers left on board. A teenage girl with glasses and a book bag, and ME. And then, SHE got off. "Alright!" I figured. Non-Stop express home!! Only, the driver just sat there with the front door open looking at me and finally asking if I am going to get off or was I planning on sleeping on the sidewalk. This was the end of the line! In the middle of NOWHERE. Somewhere on top of Mount Scopus. Somewhere.

Not a cab in sight. No one. Nothing. I convinced him to at least take me back to where the Bus Garage is, and I could get a cab from there, and he did exactly that. Fifteen minutes later, after standing outside in the rain and 40 degree weather, a cab pulled up and sprinted me home. Exactly seven minutes away, for $20 Shekels!

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Rabbi David Kilimnick is your typical Yeshivah raised and educated Rochester, New York kind of guy. He finishes the Yeshivah and gets Rabinnical Smicha and comes to Jerusalem. Why not? Jerusalem is happy to have him. His students would be thrilled and all would be terrific, right?

David decides that he is going to take a slightly different route and open his own "Pulpit". One different than ANY other in Jerusalem or anywhere in the world, for that matter.

David's place is located at Ben Yehudah Street 34, in the Basement, and the only prayers said there are from the long line of comics, both professional and amateur hoping to get a laugh or two from the packed house almost every night. Mondays are reserved for English Open Mikes, while Tuesdays welcome in a fantastic improv quartet which includes the very funny antics of Michal (originally from New York) and Yechezkel from Montreal.

The comics come from all walks of life and even include Rabbinical Students. One such student is the multi talented Gella Solomon, originally from Brooklyn and headed to JTS in Upper Manhattan this Summer. As a Rabbi, Gella will make noise and literally rock her Congregational World. She is just going to be THAT good. In her spare time, she got a killer singing voice and amazing comic timing. Watch her name: GELLA SOLOMON. We will be hearing from her in the coming years.

Off The Wall Comedy Basement is open Sunday through Thursday and can be found at http://www.israelcomedy.com/.

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As we say goodnight from Jerusalem on this Tuesday, March 3, we must continue to remember that our brother Gilad Shalit remains in the hands of Terrorists. Please join me in asking G-d to remember Gilad today and every day, and to bring him home soon.

From the Moshavah HaGermanit in Jerusalem...

Ahavah u'Vrachot - Love and Blessings...

--Alan

One Hour for Each Million

Located on the top of The Mountain of Remembrance, Yad VaShem (The Memorial and The Name) stands as an intense and beautifully created museum dedicated to the terror of our people between 1930 and 1945.

The sign at the entrance suggests that one might expect to spend between one and one half to three hours visiting the exhibits and paying respects. It took me six. About an hour for every million of our brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts and cousins who were brutally murdered in by the hands of the Nazis in World War II.

I had been to Yad VaShem before, in 1974 and again in 1980 or so, and though that I knew what to expect. I knew which exhibits I would remember, and which I might avoid - Some really bothered me when I was 13 years old.

Surprisingly, I did not recognize even one room. The museum is brand new, rebuilt and reopened in March, 2005.

I was in awe of the clean look; the sharp architecture, and the intentional concentration not on the WHATs, rather, on the WHOs and the WHENs of the Holocaust. There was very little concentration on the camps themselves, and much more detail paid to the victims. I will not and cannot dash off a list of every exhibit, but what I will say is that even an hour for every million, was probably not enough time.

Aside from the memorials, personal to each and every one of the Six Million, the walkway between the main entrance and the museum itself includes memorials to non-Jews, who hold their own place in history, by merely being human. Said humanity, however, was at significant personal risk to these heroes. People like Oskar Schindler who with little regard for their own safety stepped up and saved thousands of lives.

While running the risk of sounding like a Travel-Log, I will submit to you that one should never visit Jerusalem and miss Yad VaShem. In fact, maybe more of the world should visit Jerusalem because of Yad VaShem. Your eyes my tear up for six hours, but they are supposed to. If not, this tragedy or one like it could happen again. It is up to us to remember. Never again.

From Yerushalayim Shel Zahav, Goodnight.

Ahava u'Vrachot.. Love and Blessings...

--Alan

Oh What a Hand! Sarah's Hand!!

Most of you might know that I was once a tremendous dope; An idiot beyond words; One of the most highly intelligent morons that ever lived, right? I'll answer that one for those of you who do not yet know: Right.

Why? Because for over 32 years - More than 2/3 of my life, I sucked on and inhaled poison. Intentionally! Some of you still do. If this speaks to you, quit. That's all I am going to say on this exact matter.

I am, however, going to address one issue that is left over from that STUPID habit, addiction, disease, idiocy, SFB (READ: s**t for brains), thing called smoking, and that is the fact that I destroyed my lungs. And because I did, I use certain medications in an inhalation machine on a daily basis, and if I cannot use my machine? Not a good thought. I also travel and carry oxygen with me, but that's another story for another day.

Let's talk about my machine. STOP! WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH HANDS? OR A HAND?? OR WHATEVER YOU SAID, ABRAMS?

I knew that right about now, you'd be asking, so I will cut to the chase and in just a few words let you know that my machine, in Israel, requires an electrical transformer. I bought a regular $30 transformer before I left the States and had been told by the manufacturer that it would be adequate. They were wrong and so was I. What I needed was not just a regular transformer like what would be used for a cellphone or MP3 player, but apparently one used normally for items like Washing Machines or Clothes Dryers. I found this out by using the regular transformer to do a breathing treatment and having the machine turn off after 3 minutes.

Now I was stuck. It was late Friday afternoon when I learned this, and Shabbat was rapidly approaching. What was I going to do? How long could my tiny battery operated airplane machine last doing triple duty?

Quickly I called my good friend, Nomi Teplow (yes. THAT Nomi Teplow. Yes. The internationally famous recording artist, Nomi Teplow - HER--Yes. She's a friend of mine. Yeah, she's as nice as she seems in interviews. Yes, her voice really IS that good...) and she told me about an organization in Israel called YAD SARAH, or in English, SARAH'S HAND. YAD SARAH helps people. All people. And, they do it for free. You heard me. They help people at no cost.

Yad Sarah has 103 branches throughout Israel run by more than 6,000 volunteers, and saves the Israeli economy about $320 million a year in hospitalization and medical costs. Yad Sarah`s best-known service is the lending of medical and rehabilitative equipment on a short-term basis free of charge to anyone who needs it - from a stock of over 250,000 items, from crutches and wheelchairs to oxygen concentrators and electronic monitors.

Today, YAD SARAH, with no more than my Arizona Driver's License number, loaned me a compatible nebulizer for the balance of my stay. And it was absolutely free to me.

If you are able to give this year, or this month or... Yad Sarah would be happy to allow you to help them help others. They may be found at http://www.yadsarah.org/.
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From the "Interesting Fact Department" - - - Sunday in Israel is like Monday in the States. People work, kids go to school, life restarts. The week waits for Shabbat and in Jerusalem, Shabbat is ever the Queen that the poetry dictates. For Moslems, Friday is El Juma, the day of prayer and because of this, and adding into the equation that we must be finished with all of our work early in the afternoon, many businesses treat Friday as the first day of the weekend, creating a five day work week.
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I had hoped to get to Jerusalem's Mountains today, but rain and very cold weather knocked out that plan. Like we say in Arizona: Manana.
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I finally turned on the television late last night and found a great channel on Israeli Cable. Its called 24 Musica. Sort of like... No, exactly like the old VH-1, save for the programming being all Israeli Music Videos. The videos are mostly concert footage, and rarely do they appear to be like US music videos, in that I am pretty sure that one does not need to be stoned to understand or appreciate these. They also had a show on this afternoon called ילדות רעות, literally translated to mean "Bad Girls". It was like an Israeli version of 90201 or One Tree Hill, but with lots of swearing. Same production quality, though. Ouch!

When you come here next, though, do NOT miss אח הגדול, BIG BROTHER VIP. Tonight was the premiere of a new season and there were hundreds of people standing out in the rain watching has-been celebrities walk the red carpet while on their way to be locked in for 12 weeks.

I did tell you that it has REALLY been raining, did I not? I don't really miss TV that much.

In this tiny country of 7,184,000 citizen residents, that live in an area smaller than that of the State of New Jersey, and surrounded by over 300 Million Arabs in 21 different countries, many would say that it is, but by the grace of G-d himself that Israel remains a sovereign nation. A nation that lives in a state of a constant security and readiness, yet a country that is able to carry out normal daily routines while maintaining a tremendous sense of humor and commitment to its citizenry, as well as a commitment to the Torah and the entire Jewish world.

I applaud you for joining me in prayer that the new government being formed by the Honourable Benjamin Netanyahu and the Likud Party is able to continue the peace process while saving our dignity, the world's respect for us as a People as well as our military, and lastly the land promised to us by G-d and protected by the blood of our children for thousands of years.

I pray for the safety of our children serving in the IDF that protect our borders by land, air and sea and I join all of Klal Yisrael and the free world in praying for the safe return of Gilad Shalit, who has been held by the black arm of terror for over Nine Hundred and Eighty Days. I implore you to please do the same.

From the City of David, I wish you a goodnight.

Ahavah u'Vrachot...Love and Blessings always.

--Alan

Some references to Yad Sarah are Courtesy of Yad Sarah and have been used without express permission.

Shabbat in Jerusalem - AKA It is Raining Batz and Dogs!

Chaverei...

I feel as if it has been forever since we have spoken and I'm ready to rock this blog after such a Shabbat!

Let's slow it down first... It is, after all slightly after 2am and I am wound up. Okay. Breathing.

Yesterday (Friday) was an interesting day. It rained. Was VERY cold, and rained some more. The high temperature made it all the way to 48f and it kept me inside until Shabbat.

Actually, I was kept inside until after Shabbat began by a terribly upsetting conversation that I had with a friend (?). I finally signed off and went to Shul. I should have been there on time, but I let this person get to me and instead of following my own rules on this trip, I let it beat me up. Once I heard the Cantor's voice for Kabbalat Shabbat; His voice and kavannah, the meaning in his voice, made it all go away, and let Shabbat come into my week. I needed that.

Speaking of Shabbat and Kavannah, I have got to say that the Prayer Leader this morning, Ahuva Batz was without a doubt, the single most inspiring Baalat Tzibur I have ever prayed with. During the Torah Service, the first word of her שמע, was both loud, strong and LONG. One word. SHEMA................ Yisrael, etc... HEAR..................... O' Israel. Goosebumps. Period.

כל הכבוד אהובה. ממש. If you are reading this, you were amazing.

Let's talk about new friends and the meaning of Shabbat. The wonderful couple that celebrated 64 years of wedded bliss on Thursday invited me to lunch at their apartment. Homemade soup, roast, potatoes, veggies... What a feast! Thank you, Harry and Annie!

More Amazing------- After the afternoon and evening prayers this evening, I enjoyed a night of dinner and conversation with two Rabbinical students and a Cantorial student studying at the Conservative Yeshiva. Oh what a night! Jason, Gella and Frani, you guys are the best! I told you that we'd be forever friends. I meant it. And we will be.

Jerusalem is truly an enchanting city. It is, as we all know, home to three major religions and we are all able to live in peace and harmony. She will take a hold of you, if you let her, and is capable of filling your soul with much needed spiritual nourishment, as only Jerusalem is capable of providing. The warmth of her residents is but a small part of the attraction. It is indeed very easy to feel that
G-d is here. Everywhere.

Tomorrow will be a day to visit mountains. Scopus, Olives and my favorite, Mt. Herzl, where I will pay tribute to our fallen soldiers and old friends.

לילה טוב ושבוע טוב מהמושבה הגרמנית, ירושלים
Good night and a good week from The German Colony, Jerusalem.

Ahavah uVrachot..

Love and Blessings...

--Alan

It was evening.... and It was Morning.... Day One

After a quick trip to the Super-Sol (Hebrew for Super Basket Grocery Store) last night, filling the apartment's small bar-fridge with Salami, Pastrami, Turkey Breast, "Real" Hellman's and a loaf of bread; Bag of chips and FANTA (c) ORANGE, I made my way back to the little apartment on Hanania, took in a breathing treatment and got a really good night of sleep.

At 6:15 this morning, Dylan, my son the superstar performer, called to tell me something about Penelope (my car, which he has named). Something about taking "her" somewhere. Honestly, I was just thrilled to hear his voice, and would have been no matter what he had to say.

By 7:15, I was at Moreshet and in Rabbi Shlomo's morning Minyan. After meeting a few people there, all of which speak better English than I do, and all of whom have lived here for many years, I headed next door to the Conservative Yeshiva and a Talmud class with the well known and very dynamic Rabbi Pesach Schindler.

Rabbi Schindler is a smallish man with a somewhat heavy New York (Long Island, as opposed to Brooklyn) accent and incredibly blue eyes, who not only teaches, but asks his students to teach him. Afterwards, he invited all who had studied with him, roughly twenty of us, to join in a Kiddush in honour of a couple who was celebrating their 64th wedding anniversary. Their names are Harry and Annie Allen, formerly of Lincoln, Nebraska. I wish them happiness until 120!

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Ben Yehudah Street has changed tremendously.

It is now a walking mall, with shops and eateries on both sides of the steep up and down block, and English (READ: American) speakers EVERYWHERE. I'm not sure that I may have heard five or seven words of Hebrew. I did, however, hear a lot of Russian, French and Brooklyn.

Burger King is Kosher; So is McDonalds. But, THE place to be and be seen is Aroma. Akin to Coffee Bean or Starbucks, Aroma has wireless internet and it is from here that I am now blogging at 1:40 in the afternoon.

Aroma is a relatively large place for Jerusalem; meaning that one could fit 22 of them inside one Coffee Plantation in Phoenix. There are three or four round three top tables with umbrellas outside and 9 small rounders inside, all with bright orange chairs. At one table sits a Chassid and a younger (obviously non-religious) man; while at another a businessman and in the far (10 feet from me) corner, a seemingly attractive woman of maybe 35, eyes hidden behind sunglasses eats a large salad and keeps to herself as a group of ten or so soldiers walk by on the sidewalk outside laughing as they go.

Eviyatar and Anir just came in to Aroma. I saw Anir first, so, I must first tell you about her. She has huge round beautiful eyes and brown hair. She is wearing a pink jumper and she owns a magnificent smile. She is a couple weeks older than Eviyatar, and it is rumored that there is a match already made by their respective families. Eviyatar is all man. A solid twelve or so pounds of muscle and a wisp of blonde hair that can barely be seen under his hoodie. If you haven't yet caught on, Eviyatar and Anir are three months old. And, they are our future. May G-d bless them and keep them safe, healthy and in his close thoughts. They are Jerusalem. They are our hopes and our prayers.

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Binyamin HaMalach Moalem told me in a heavy Tunisian accent that he is 60 years old. And then he laughed. My money would place him at least twenty years older, but what is age anyway?

As I was walking toward the Kotel (The Western Wall), I was greeted by Binyamin who asked me if I would like some company while walking to the Wall. We walked, and he talked and told me that this exercise is how he stays fit at his age. We walked through the Market, which has not changed and as we walked, and as we talked, it occurred to me that I had not stepped foot inside this place in nearly 25 years. And, in twenty five years, each and every shop seems to be exactly as I remembered.

The only difference that was noticeable to me about the area around the Wall is the presence of metal detectors.

You ask about my experience at the Wall today? All I can say, truly, is that I was and remain so overwhelmed by emotion, that my thoughts will have to wait until I visit there again. Tomorrow.

Many poets have written about this City of Gold. Many singers have sang her praises. Tonight I am feeling just so blessed to be here at all, that sometimes, less is more.

לילה טוב מירושלום
Good night from Jerusalem.

Going (Coming) Home – Night One - Arrivals

This has been, if you haven’t figured it out yet an extremely crazy time. Not just the trip, but everything leading up to the trip, including, but not limited to turning down not just one sub assignment (Hebrew High, with my rock-star students, all of whom are either friends of my sons’, or my sons, themselves), but to have to turn down my KDS day school kids hurt worse.. Of course, I had a good excuse. I had a plane to catch.

After almost two years without airports; After almost two glorious years without , former rocket scientists and former burger flippers who now are employed by you and me and wear the blue shirts of the TSA; And, after almost 25 years of being away, I am finally on my way. On my way home.

Not to the home I grew up in; not to the town where I was raised; yet, home. The only home that we as Jews have, and will always have – The land of our forefathers; of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. I suppose that for once I can choose the high road and be politically correct and save a few dirty looks my way if I am bold enough to add in the names of Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah. There! For all you doubters who said that I would never recite those names after the names of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, I just did!

Although I really do hate doing this, I must regress, if for only a one minute groaner: Have I ever told you about the one evening at Hebrew High when only four or five students had come to class on time? Two fresh women (I AM being politically correct) bounced in almost twenty minutes into my class and announced that they were Rachel and Rebecca. Immediately, and without missing a beat, I asked…. So? Where are Sarah and Leah?

I have dreamt for years about the next time that I would board an airplane in New York and awake to see the Isle of Cypress beneath me – Meaning of course, that Tel Aviv was only an hour away, or less. I was initially disappointed to find that my seat was 2-B, on the aisle, for only one reason: I would not see the shore as quickly if I were on the aisle. When the lead flight attendant saw my portable oxygen apparatus, however, I was moved forthwith to seat 2-A and the window is now mine.
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We have been in the air now for two hours and twenty-eight minutes, and in New York it is 1:26am. In Jerusalem, where I hope to find what it is I seek, it is now 8:26am. We are scheduled to land at 4:20pm. Less than eight hours to go…
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We did land at 4:20, and as I had predicted, the sight of the coastline hit be like a brick.
The new terminal at David Ben Gurion International Airport is quite impressive. The truth though, is that after this many years, it is all impressing me, and exciting me at the same time.

The apartment is cozy and comfortable. For the next week, it is home.

This Week in Jerusalem! Could it really BE?

Here we are. It has come to this. 42 hours and counting. Tick-Tock. Tick- Tock.

Every year, around the Pesach Seder table, the last thing that we say together is "Next Year in Jerusalem". Do we really ever believe it when we say it? Doubtful.

For several months now; almost since the time that I really knew that I was going to make it and survive, I have had a feeling of some loss. Not a bad loss, mind you, but a loss nevertheless.

Maybe not so much as loss, as a yearning. An unfulfilled want; a desire so strong that mere words alone cannot begin to describe the emptiness of having left something of oneself somewhere so many miles away, that the simple thought of going to look for it after over twenty years deems it impossible. Or does it?

The loss of which I am speaking; The yearing; The burning desire and absolute necessity to go to now find what I have misplaced well over twenty years ago is so apparent, and has seemed so very unattainable, that I felt unable to ever be able to locate it, let alone, grasp it, hold it and return it to its rightful place; Within me.

The object of which I speak is simply, a piece of my soul. A part of my Neshama. Part of my very essence and being; Some of G-d's light that was bestowed onto me from HaShem himself forty-seven plus years ago.

In 1984, I left it somewhere safe. I left it in walls that speak to us in sing and prayer. I left it in the City of David. ירושלים של זבה. Jerusalem of Gold.

As I prepare now for my final night in my own bed for a few weeks, I will finish making final "i" dotting and "t" crossing, before walking onto a jet tomorrow headed east, and from there, and after a day long respite in my favorite City in the world, I will board a silver and gold eagle that will take me home. Home to Jerusalem. To reclaim that piece of my soul that was left there so many years ago.

I look forward to sharing each and every step with you over the next few weeks, and welcome your thoughts and comments.

B'Shalom, uB'Ahava... With Peace and Love...

--Alan