Closing out week two and I have already started compiling my list...
9/8/16:
- You eat salmon jerky, string cheese and a carrot for dinner.
- In a single night, you start following three different guinea pigs on instagram.
- You recite mishnah in the car while drinking Dunkin Donuts coffee.
'M'eimatai korin shema baravit?'
Thursday, September 8, 2016
Monday, September 21, 2015
Shofarot
Now is the time for turning.
The leaves are beginning to turn from green to red and orange.
The birds are beginning to turn
And are flying once more towards the south.
The animals are beginning to turn
To storing their food for the winter.
For leaves, birds, and animals
Turning comes instinctively,
But for us, turning does not come so easily.
It takes an act of will for us to make a turn.
It means breaking with old habits,
It means admitting that we have been wrong.
And it is never easy.
It means losing face.
It means starting all over again,
And this is always painful.
It means saying, "I am sorry."
It means recognizing that we have the ability to change,
And this is always embarassing.
These things are terribly hard to do.
But unless we turn, we will be trapped forever in yesterday's ways.
Therefore, may we find the strength to turn
From callousness to sensitivity,
From hostility to love,
From pettiness to purpose, from envy to contentment,
From carelessness to discipline, from fear to trust.
May we turn ourselves around and toward all that is noble,
true and life-affirming to revive our lives, as at the beginning.
Then may we turn toward on another,
For in isolation there is no life.
-Jack Riemer
The leaves are beginning to turn from green to red and orange.
The birds are beginning to turn
And are flying once more towards the south.
The animals are beginning to turn
To storing their food for the winter.
For leaves, birds, and animals
Turning comes instinctively,
But for us, turning does not come so easily.
It takes an act of will for us to make a turn.
It means breaking with old habits,
It means admitting that we have been wrong.
And it is never easy.
It means losing face.
It means starting all over again,
And this is always painful.
It means saying, "I am sorry."
It means recognizing that we have the ability to change,
And this is always embarassing.
These things are terribly hard to do.
But unless we turn, we will be trapped forever in yesterday's ways.
Therefore, may we find the strength to turn
From callousness to sensitivity,
From hostility to love,
From pettiness to purpose, from envy to contentment,
From carelessness to discipline, from fear to trust.
May we turn ourselves around and toward all that is noble,
true and life-affirming to revive our lives, as at the beginning.
Then may we turn toward on another,
For in isolation there is no life.
-Jack Riemer
Friday, March 6, 2015
A Bunnie Kaddish
Tonight, this first Shabbat without Marmie, I tried to wear bright red lipstick like she did when she was my age. In photos, when she smiled, her impeccable red lips made her teeth burn white like pearls. Tonight I smiled in the mirror and my red lipstick was smudged across my two front teeth.
Marmie, when you come to visit me, please help me wear lipstick better.
People ask me how I am feeling. I am feeling this poem...
Kaddish
(an excerpt)
BY ALLEN GINSBERG
New York, 1959
Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.
downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles' blues shout blind on the phonograph
the rhythm the rhythm—and your memory in my head —And read Adonais’ last triumphant stanzas aloud—wept, realizing how we suffer—
And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember, prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of Answers—and my own imagination of a withered leaf—at dawn—
Dreaming back thru life, Your time—and mine accelerating toward Apocalypse, the final moment—the flower burning in the Day—and what comes after, looking back on the mind like a poem in the dark—escaped back to Oblivion—
No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream, trapped in its disappearance—while it lasts, a Vision—anything more?
It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder, Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shouldering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant—and the sky above—an old blue place.
or down the Avenue to the south, to—as I walk toward the Lower East Side—where you walked 50 years ago, little girl—from Russia, eating the first poisonous tomatoes of America—frightened on the dock—
then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?—
toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice cream in backroom on musty brown floor boards—
Toward education, marriage, nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school, and learning to be mad, in a dream—what is this life?
Toward the Key in the window—and the great Key lays its head of light on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the sidewalk—in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward the Yiddish Theater—and the place of poverty
you knew, and I know, but without caring now—Strange to have moved
thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again, fire escapes old as you
-Tho you’re not old now, that’s left here with me—
Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe—and I guess that dies with us—enough to cancel all that comes—What came is gone forever every time—
That’s good! That leaves it open for no regret—no fear, lacklove, torture even toothache in the end—
Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul—and the lamb, the soul, in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change’s fierce hunger—hair and teeth—and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin, braintricked Implacability.
We are in a fix! And you’re out, Death let you out, Death had the Mercy, you’re done with your century, done with God, done with the path thru it—Done with yourself at last—Pure—Back to the Babe dark before your Father, before us all—before the world—
There, rest. No more suffering for you. I know where you’ve gone, it’s good.
No more flowers in the summer fields of New York, no joy now, no more fear, and no more of this sweetness, high school decades, debts, loves, telephone calls, relatives, hands—
All the accumulations of life, that wear us out—clocks, bodies, consciousness, shoes, breasts—begotten sons. Now I’ve got to cut through—to talk to you—as I didn’t when you had a mouth.
Forever. And we’re bound for that, Forever—like Emily Dickinson’s horses—headed to the End. They know the way—These Steeds—run faster than we think—it’s our own life they cross—and take with them.
Over and over—refrain—still haven’t written your history—leave it abstract—images run thru the mind like the saxophone chorus of houses and years.
Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.
downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles' blues shout blind on the phonograph
the rhythm the rhythm—and your memory in my head —And read Adonais’ last triumphant stanzas aloud—wept, realizing how we suffer—
And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember, prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of Answers—and my own imagination of a withered leaf—at dawn—
Dreaming back thru life, Your time—and mine accelerating toward Apocalypse, the final moment—the flower burning in the Day—and what comes after, looking back on the mind like a poem in the dark—escaped back to Oblivion—
No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream, trapped in its disappearance—while it lasts, a Vision—anything more?
It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder, Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shouldering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant—and the sky above—an old blue place.
or down the Avenue to the south, to—as I walk toward the Lower East Side—where you walked 50 years ago, little girl—from Russia, eating the first poisonous tomatoes of America—frightened on the dock—
then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?—
toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice cream in backroom on musty brown floor boards—
Toward education, marriage, nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school, and learning to be mad, in a dream—what is this life?
Toward the Key in the window—and the great Key lays its head of light on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the sidewalk—in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward the Yiddish Theater—and the place of poverty
you knew, and I know, but without caring now—Strange to have moved
thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again, fire escapes old as you
-Tho you’re not old now, that’s left here with me—
Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe—and I guess that dies with us—enough to cancel all that comes—What came is gone forever every time—
That’s good! That leaves it open for no regret—no fear, lacklove, torture even toothache in the end—
Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul—and the lamb, the soul, in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change’s fierce hunger—hair and teeth—and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin, braintricked Implacability.
We are in a fix! And you’re out, Death let you out, Death had the Mercy, you’re done with your century, done with God, done with the path thru it—Done with yourself at last—Pure—Back to the Babe dark before your Father, before us all—before the world—
There, rest. No more suffering for you. I know where you’ve gone, it’s good.
No more flowers in the summer fields of New York, no joy now, no more fear, and no more of this sweetness, high school decades, debts, loves, telephone calls, relatives, hands—
All the accumulations of life, that wear us out—clocks, bodies, consciousness, shoes, breasts—begotten sons. Now I’ve got to cut through—to talk to you—as I didn’t when you had a mouth.
Forever. And we’re bound for that, Forever—like Emily Dickinson’s horses—headed to the End. They know the way—These Steeds—run faster than we think—it’s our own life they cross—and take with them.
Over and over—refrain—still haven’t written your history—leave it abstract—images run thru the mind like the saxophone chorus of houses and years.
Yisborach, v’yistabach, v’yispoar, v’yisroman, v’yisnaseh, v’yishador, v’yishalleh, v’yishallol, sh’meh d’kudsho, b’rich hu...
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Thanksgiving.
This morning I woke up and Reuben was curled up in the blankets beside me. It was at this moment, exactly as I opened my eyes, that I realized how immeasurably grateful I am. I am thankful for my peaceful mornings and the day the lies ahead and for all the days behind. As Murakami said: "it's as though all these days were ingeniously programmed for the very purpose of bringing me here, where I am today." I am thankful for all the steps that have brought me to this place, for all the people who have entered my life, for the courage that I am learning, and for all the love that I have found while flying about in this world.
I never want to take anything for granted.
I am decidedly lucky.
I never want to take anything for granted.
I am decidedly lucky.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
rocket science.
Strange is our situation here upon earth. Each of us comes for a short visit not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to divine a purpose. From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: that we are here for the sake of each other, above all, for those upon whose smile and well-being our own happiness depends, and also for the countless unknown souls with whose fate we are connected by a bond of sympathy. Many times a day I realize how much my own outer and inner life is built upon the labors of others, both living and dead, and how earnestly I must exert myself in order to give in return as much as I have recieved and am still receiving.
-Albert Einstein
-Albert Einstein
Friday, October 3, 2014
A Reflection:
As a new year starts rolling, gears get turning, and so it feels like a good time to return to my blogging. Hello again.
There are times when change within one's soul feels especially near to the surface - tangible shifts within an intangible entity. For me, now is one of those times. It is Yom Kippur. A checkpoint marking the turning of a year. Now is an opportunity to quiet the mind and to reflect honestly on how well we have been living our lives. How well do we nurture the goodness in ourselves? How can we improve? For me, it is an opportunity to acknowledge my wrongdoings as the first step in repairing and strengthening my character, in defining the person I want to be, and in molding the person I choose to be. Mistakes are part of our humanity. It is in how we respond to our errors, how we correct and learn from our mistakes, that reveals who we are and who we can become.
As I move forward into 5775 I aim for eyes that open wider. I aim to be more gentle with my heart and with my mind. I aim to be more patient with those around me and more patient with myself. I aim to put more energy into believing in magic and into pursuing a life full of sparkle. I aim to put my energy where energy is due and to understanding when it is not.
.אלהינו ואלחי אבותינו סלח לנו, מחל לנו, כפר לנו
May a sweet year, full of wonderment, lie ahead for us, for all of Israel, and for all of humanity. V'imeru Amen.
There are times when change within one's soul feels especially near to the surface - tangible shifts within an intangible entity. For me, now is one of those times. It is Yom Kippur. A checkpoint marking the turning of a year. Now is an opportunity to quiet the mind and to reflect honestly on how well we have been living our lives. How well do we nurture the goodness in ourselves? How can we improve? For me, it is an opportunity to acknowledge my wrongdoings as the first step in repairing and strengthening my character, in defining the person I want to be, and in molding the person I choose to be. Mistakes are part of our humanity. It is in how we respond to our errors, how we correct and learn from our mistakes, that reveals who we are and who we can become.
As I move forward into 5775 I aim for eyes that open wider. I aim to be more gentle with my heart and with my mind. I aim to be more patient with those around me and more patient with myself. I aim to put more energy into believing in magic and into pursuing a life full of sparkle. I aim to put my energy where energy is due and to understanding when it is not.
.אלהינו ואלחי אבותינו סלח לנו, מחל לנו, כפר לנו
May a sweet year, full of wonderment, lie ahead for us, for all of Israel, and for all of humanity. V'imeru Amen.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
guavas and war
Guava trees are in bloom. Everyday, we pass a very special guava tree and it makes my face tingly. My legs stop moving and I get stuck sniffing as hard as can as if the harder I sniff the more possible it is to store the smell deep in my mind to be pulled out and resmelled later. It is hard to believe that there are missiles being dropped when the world can stand still at the scent of a guava. I imagine heaven probably smells like a guava tree.
Although I know everyone at home is worried, which I can very much appreciate, my life continues as usual. I am learning how to knit. This morning I repotted my basil and we are rooting a sweet potato and an avocado seed. I am also eating cornflakes out of the box and remembering that I need to go throw our laundry. I feel very safe.
Still, things are different now. With a war so close you can very much feel the tension. I refuse to take sides or to contribute to the fear-mongering...except to say that I have a vested interest in Israeli success...and in peace.
I am a naive american who hates the thought that people are dying as a result of ignorance and fear. I was lucky to grow up in a place where conflict and war were not part of my day-to-day life. Thus, I don't feel that I am equipped to make statements about the politics of it all. What I do know is that peace would be better. I also know that Israelis are wise people. They are well-equipped, both in spirit and in strategy, to defend thier right to exist.
A few words of caution: Think for yourselves. Don't believe everything you see. Dont let the media feed your fears and don't chose sides when you don't really know. War and hatred are only fed by attention. Follow your heart and remember that there are bigger things going on on this planet than war.
The world was once purely complex, then came the ego of man and it became bitterly complicated.
With undying love for knitting needles the size of drumsticks, black coffee in the morning, Koko, and Gingies,
I respectfully remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
Sunday, November 11, 2012
ההרפתקה הגדולה...וגמלים.
I awoke Saturday morning to the sounds of the rain falling on the mirpesset and the wind blowing our palm tree against the window screen. I love rainy mornings when you wake up warm in bed. I was supposed to meet Urian, my boss, at the entrance to the kibbutz at 6:30am. He had us scheduled for a mysterious pizza mission, the details of which he refused to divulge.
It was so cold that I got dressed in twos. I piled on two pairs of pants, two t-shirts, two sweaters, two pairs of socks, annnd a scarf and a hat (I am really not prepared for cold weather). An interesting sidenote about pants and socks... I have been working really hard at filling in the gaps in my vocabulary. Last week, I learned all the words for clothing: sharvulim (sleeves), tzahif (scarf), chagorah (belt). Now, every morning is like a very stimulating Hebrew lesson.
Anyway...
I climbed into the van which is soaked through and through with the stench of pizza dough and whose apolstery is covered in a millimeter of baking flour. I greeted Urian with a boker tov and asked him where we were going. South, he said. And south we went. We drove past Be'er Sheva into the desert. I napped (a new English word for Urian) and awoke to sunshine and the dry, clean breeze of the Negev.
There is something unreal about the desert. It is a solitary place, but not lonely. Being there is a similar feeling to sitting on a sailboat in the middle of the sea. Surrounded by nothing but what is...nature yet untouched. The desert offers you the space to feel and the quiet to think.
Three hours later we arrived. It happened that we were working a bat mitzvah party at a bedouin camel ranch. What an awesome surprise. This 13-year-old girl traded her huge party for a family camel ride and taboon pizza lunch. I thought she was really special. Two people told me I looked Israeli. That tickled me. Urian said, while laughing, that he wasn't sure it was a compliment.
We left the ranch and stopped at an oasis park. Urian smoked a cigarette and we trekked up to a lookout. I counted exactly 219 steps up to the top. From the hill we could see Mitzpe Ramon and stretches and stretches of rolling sand and stone. We drove a little farther and then stopped at the home of Urian's parents. His mama fed us dinner...fried gefilte fish balls. Her name is Rachel, she is Iraqi. His father, Willy, is Romanian. While Urian shaved I asked them to tell me the story of how they met. 57 years ago on a bus in Tel Aviv, Rachel was on her way to visit her boyfriend and Willy asked her to go on a date with him instead. They gave Urian a happy childhood.
I climbed into the van which is soaked through and through with the stench of pizza dough and whose apolstery is covered in a millimeter of baking flour. I greeted Urian with a boker tov and asked him where we were going. South, he said. And south we went. We drove past Be'er Sheva into the desert. I napped (a new English word for Urian) and awoke to sunshine and the dry, clean breeze of the Negev.
There is something unreal about the desert. It is a solitary place, but not lonely. Being there is a similar feeling to sitting on a sailboat in the middle of the sea. Surrounded by nothing but what is...nature yet untouched. The desert offers you the space to feel and the quiet to think.
Three hours later we arrived. It happened that we were working a bat mitzvah party at a bedouin camel ranch. What an awesome surprise. This 13-year-old girl traded her huge party for a family camel ride and taboon pizza lunch. I thought she was really special. Two people told me I looked Israeli. That tickled me. Urian said, while laughing, that he wasn't sure it was a compliment.
We left the ranch and stopped at an oasis park. Urian smoked a cigarette and we trekked up to a lookout. I counted exactly 219 steps up to the top. From the hill we could see Mitzpe Ramon and stretches and stretches of rolling sand and stone. We drove a little farther and then stopped at the home of Urian's parents. His mama fed us dinner...fried gefilte fish balls. Her name is Rachel, she is Iraqi. His father, Willy, is Romanian. While Urian shaved I asked them to tell me the story of how they met. 57 years ago on a bus in Tel Aviv, Rachel was on her way to visit her boyfriend and Willy asked her to go on a date with him instead. They gave Urian a happy childhood.
Next, we drove to Ra'anana to work another bar mitzvah at night. This one was more typical but the coolest thing about it was that the family choreographed and performed a step-dance routine as a gift to Amir, the Bar Mitzvah. They dribbled basketballs to keep the beat. It was pretty stupendous.
As we drove home in a happy silence it started to rain again. Everything full circle.
With undying love for betzek, zaytim, tiras, batzal, petriot, and Shachar's borscht,
I humbly remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
As we drove home in a happy silence it started to rain again. Everything full circle.
With undying love for betzek, zaytim, tiras, batzal, petriot, and Shachar's borscht,
I humbly remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Hi!
Long time, no post. I know. It is not that I have been too busy or that I've had nothing to blog about. But my mind has been full and busy.
I am 27 now. I'm working and living in paradise. Life is simple here. I have my small group of special friends with whom I spend most of my time. I am learning Hebrew. I am enrolled in an all-girls surfing class on Friday mornings and I work on the weekends making pizzas at weddings and private parties. My boss is a man named Urian who reminds me a lot of Cosmo Kramer from Seinfeld.
I have had a lot of free time to create. I have been working on some ideas that I am hoping can lead to a sustaining career. I have been painting a lot. Monsters mostly but really anything that makes me laugh.
Sometimes I look at pictures of myself before the kibbutz and I wonder how I lived. I shopped too much. Spent too much money. I wasn't patient. I had a lot of trouble relaxing. I had so many clothes. I had an awesome haircut.
Now I survive just fine with 5 t-shirts and two pairs of shorts. I had more...but they got lost in the laundry over time. My $75 bang cut has grown out and my mascara dried up a long time ago. My toes are unpolished and my mind is quiet. I am smiling easier. At home I couldnt live without my car. Now I am learning how to walk slowly and enjoy the amble. I never realized that I walked so fast. I think it is a city thing...Something you pick up in America when to have so much to do that you have to drive 80 mph and then sprint in order to finish half of it.
For those of you that don't know, when I was younger I compiled a list of things that I wanted to accomplish in my life. I take this list very seriously. Somethings on the list are relatively simple - things like eating white asparagus or milking a cow (which has proven a little more difficult than expected). Other things are more abstract - things like learning patience. A long time ago, living on a kibbutz got added to the list. I am proud of myself that I made this dream come true.
People at home are starting to get anxious that I am still here...I think people are looking for a plan. I know that when I left everyone, including myself, thought I would be away for 5 months. Now I have been away for 7 months. For now, I am simply trying to appreciate this gift that I have been given. I am very lucky to have such an incredible and supportive family at home and to be able to live here. This is an experience that is changing my life and my way of thinking. I am trusting myself more, connecting to my thoughts and respecting myself.
I love Israel. It took me a long time to get here. At first, (and still sometimes) I found Israel a really difficult place to be. The people are very different from the people in the U.S. It has been said that an Israeli is like a cactus. Thorny and prickly on the outside and soft and sweet on the inside. It took me a long time to get through the thorns and to feel comfortable. But now I am slowly falling in love with the people. As communication becomes easier, I have started to feel less isolated and more confident here. I am learning to appreciate the quirky Israeli way.
Here is a personal experience which I think very much illuminates the difference between Israel and America...
The other day I went with Shachar to the hospital in Jerusalem for an MRI. One of the two MRI machines was broken and there were atleast 20 people waiting. We got to the hospital at 3pm and waited until 7. It was a long wait.
In the waiting room in a U.S. hospital, people (myself included) would be sitting alone...maybe reading a magazine, talking on the phone or watching TV...only leaving thier own bubble to periodically complain about the wait. Some people even considering it a personal affront to have to wait...as if the MRI machine broke just to spite them.
During our wait in Jerusalem everyone in the waiting room became friends. We moved the chairs around to sit in a circle together. By the end of the day, we all knew about each others lives...where everyone came from, what they were doing, why they were in Israel...etc. We played Rummikub together...and everyone shared their different methods of playing. When it was dinner time and we were still waiting, the receptionist shared her dinner with us. It was a meeting of friends.
This happens all the time in Israel. The country is so small that it is not uncommon to find a connection with almost everyone you meet. Everyone knows someone who you know. For this reason, it is like everyone is family. People don't treat each other as strangers. Also, Israelis have a more real connection to the concept of living everyday as if it's your last. Because there are so many threats to the Israeli way of life...and because that lifestyle has to be fought for...people here appreciate things on a deeper level than most Americans. Israelis are tough but they are true.
Although I have extended my stay in Israel, I want you to know how much I am thinking of you guys at home. I dream of home every night. My heart is full with you. Right now I am living my bold and dashing adventure. I may not have a concrete plan or a plane ticket home, but I know that it is with you all where I belong and where I will return.
Life is really special. I love you.
With undying love for volleyball, 3 bushels of crabs, 10 gallons of lemonade, and homemade ice cream.
I respectfully remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
Michael
I am 27 now. I'm working and living in paradise. Life is simple here. I have my small group of special friends with whom I spend most of my time. I am learning Hebrew. I am enrolled in an all-girls surfing class on Friday mornings and I work on the weekends making pizzas at weddings and private parties. My boss is a man named Urian who reminds me a lot of Cosmo Kramer from Seinfeld.
I have had a lot of free time to create. I have been working on some ideas that I am hoping can lead to a sustaining career. I have been painting a lot. Monsters mostly but really anything that makes me laugh.
Sometimes I look at pictures of myself before the kibbutz and I wonder how I lived. I shopped too much. Spent too much money. I wasn't patient. I had a lot of trouble relaxing. I had so many clothes. I had an awesome haircut.
Now I survive just fine with 5 t-shirts and two pairs of shorts. I had more...but they got lost in the laundry over time. My $75 bang cut has grown out and my mascara dried up a long time ago. My toes are unpolished and my mind is quiet. I am smiling easier. At home I couldnt live without my car. Now I am learning how to walk slowly and enjoy the amble. I never realized that I walked so fast. I think it is a city thing...Something you pick up in America when to have so much to do that you have to drive 80 mph and then sprint in order to finish half of it.
For those of you that don't know, when I was younger I compiled a list of things that I wanted to accomplish in my life. I take this list very seriously. Somethings on the list are relatively simple - things like eating white asparagus or milking a cow (which has proven a little more difficult than expected). Other things are more abstract - things like learning patience. A long time ago, living on a kibbutz got added to the list. I am proud of myself that I made this dream come true.
People at home are starting to get anxious that I am still here...I think people are looking for a plan. I know that when I left everyone, including myself, thought I would be away for 5 months. Now I have been away for 7 months. For now, I am simply trying to appreciate this gift that I have been given. I am very lucky to have such an incredible and supportive family at home and to be able to live here. This is an experience that is changing my life and my way of thinking. I am trusting myself more, connecting to my thoughts and respecting myself.
I love Israel. It took me a long time to get here. At first, (and still sometimes) I found Israel a really difficult place to be. The people are very different from the people in the U.S. It has been said that an Israeli is like a cactus. Thorny and prickly on the outside and soft and sweet on the inside. It took me a long time to get through the thorns and to feel comfortable. But now I am slowly falling in love with the people. As communication becomes easier, I have started to feel less isolated and more confident here. I am learning to appreciate the quirky Israeli way.
Here is a personal experience which I think very much illuminates the difference between Israel and America...
The other day I went with Shachar to the hospital in Jerusalem for an MRI. One of the two MRI machines was broken and there were atleast 20 people waiting. We got to the hospital at 3pm and waited until 7. It was a long wait.
In the waiting room in a U.S. hospital, people (myself included) would be sitting alone...maybe reading a magazine, talking on the phone or watching TV...only leaving thier own bubble to periodically complain about the wait. Some people even considering it a personal affront to have to wait...as if the MRI machine broke just to spite them.
During our wait in Jerusalem everyone in the waiting room became friends. We moved the chairs around to sit in a circle together. By the end of the day, we all knew about each others lives...where everyone came from, what they were doing, why they were in Israel...etc. We played Rummikub together...and everyone shared their different methods of playing. When it was dinner time and we were still waiting, the receptionist shared her dinner with us. It was a meeting of friends.
This happens all the time in Israel. The country is so small that it is not uncommon to find a connection with almost everyone you meet. Everyone knows someone who you know. For this reason, it is like everyone is family. People don't treat each other as strangers. Also, Israelis have a more real connection to the concept of living everyday as if it's your last. Because there are so many threats to the Israeli way of life...and because that lifestyle has to be fought for...people here appreciate things on a deeper level than most Americans. Israelis are tough but they are true.
Although I have extended my stay in Israel, I want you to know how much I am thinking of you guys at home. I dream of home every night. My heart is full with you. Right now I am living my bold and dashing adventure. I may not have a concrete plan or a plane ticket home, but I know that it is with you all where I belong and where I will return.
Life is really special. I love you.
With undying love for volleyball, 3 bushels of crabs, 10 gallons of lemonade, and homemade ice cream.
I respectfully remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
Michael
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
maryland my maryland.
At this moment, I am so homesick that I am sitting on my bed eating Old Bay out of the container.
It is really helping.
It is really helping.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Mayonnaise
My hair smells of mayonnaise but it is so shiny. Last night i decided to give my hair a mayonaise treatment. I didnt realize what I was undertaking. Now the bathroom smells of mayonaise and so does my pillow. But my hair is shiny!
Danielle just called me a prat.
We are drinking wine, listening to Israeli music that we wish we understood, and doing homework. We each have an oral presentation next week. I am telling the story of my rats...accompanied by a slide show. Tonight, Danielle and I bought fuzzy stickers in the kolbo. The have googly eyes. I bought little dinosaurs and Danielle bought rats. I also bought little old school clip-on ornaments for my bike spokes. They make noise when the wheels spin.
That reminds me... I got a bike! My dear friend, Shachar, fixed me up a bike. It even has a basket. I'd only had it for a week when I blew a tube out. I took it to the bike shop and 35 shekels later, it's riding smooth.
This weekend, my friends and I went to an enormous concert in Tel Aviv. I think there must have been at least 5000 people packed into a big warehouse. We went to see Avicii, a Swedish D.J. The energy was enormous and it was reinvigorating to be there. Madonna was performing on the same night. The city was crawling with people. I really liked Israel this weekend.
Time to study... With undying love for the baltimore Brain-Eater, The Miami Face-Eater and New Jersey Intestine-Thrower.
I respectfully remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
Danielle just called me a prat.
We are drinking wine, listening to Israeli music that we wish we understood, and doing homework. We each have an oral presentation next week. I am telling the story of my rats...accompanied by a slide show. Tonight, Danielle and I bought fuzzy stickers in the kolbo. The have googly eyes. I bought little dinosaurs and Danielle bought rats. I also bought little old school clip-on ornaments for my bike spokes. They make noise when the wheels spin.
That reminds me... I got a bike! My dear friend, Shachar, fixed me up a bike. It even has a basket. I'd only had it for a week when I blew a tube out. I took it to the bike shop and 35 shekels later, it's riding smooth.
This weekend, my friends and I went to an enormous concert in Tel Aviv. I think there must have been at least 5000 people packed into a big warehouse. We went to see Avicii, a Swedish D.J. The energy was enormous and it was reinvigorating to be there. Madonna was performing on the same night. The city was crawling with people. I really liked Israel this weekend.
Time to study... With undying love for the baltimore Brain-Eater, The Miami Face-Eater and New Jersey Intestine-Thrower.
I respectfully remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Your Mama Tzfat
Day 3 on the road draws to a close. I am writing this entry from Kibbutz Ein Gev on the on the eastern shore of the Kinneret. It is night and I can see the lights of Tiberius from across the lake.
Before we left Tiberius, Dan and I started the day with toast and a friendly game of checkers. Then we hit the road. We were headed for Tzvat. On the way, we made a quick stop in Capernum. Capernum was an ancient town and it is said to be the home of Saint Peter. Today, what remains are the beautiful ruins of a once thriving city. The house once inhabited by Peter is there - with an enormous modern church of glass built above it. Also in Capernum is one of the oldest synagogues in the world . Most breathtaking is the Greek-Orthodox church that is located just outside the ancient city walls. It sits on a hill overlooking the Sea of Galilee. The yard of the Greek-Orthodox Church is full of peacocks, a Christian symbol of immortality. I thought that was a nice touch.
After Capernum, we visited Tagba. Tagba is the traditional site of the miracle of the multiplication of loaves and fish. Until 1948, it was also an Arab village. Now, Tagba is a Christian pilgrimage site. The small church has been built around a large rock, upon which Jesus stood to bless the bread and fish. There was an enormous group of Christian Indians in Tagba today. They came in a big bus.
Today, I wore pants and a hoodie and so I was allowed to enter the holy sites...something to keep in mind in case you ever want to visit the Holy Land...they don't take kindly to exposed shoulders.
Then we arrived in Tzfat. Tzfat is the highest city in Israel. It is one of Judaism's four holy cities and is the world center for Kabbalah. Because of its deep foundation in Jewish mysticism and magic, the city is built around superstition and magic. Every doorway is painted turquoise or blue...colors thought to ward off evil. The religious women dress in turquoise and even wear turquoise eye make-up. Chamsas and the ever-seeing eye hang in every home and garden.
Upon my request, Dan and I visited every synagogue we could find in the city. We also visited the artist quarter where we got to talk to some local artists. It was a great chance for us to practice our Hebrew away from the kibbutz. We also visited the famous Safed Candle Shop. In the shop they had a giant wax candle sculpted into a David and Goliath scene. It was clever. I especially liked that Goliath had crusty toenails. We ate Yemenese food for lunch...which included Yemenese Ganja Juice for Dan. Dan bought some fly Naot sandals and then we explored the old cemetery.
Now we are in Ein Gev drinking rum and playing War. We ate dinner at the Ein Gev Fish Restaurant. I got Fish Shwarma and it was AWESOMMME. A long day, I think I'm going to hit the hay. Tomorrow we are going to Hamat Gader...and then home.
With undying love for cheeze, Sublime, Chevrolets, hand wipes, a mammoth orange, and St. Peter Fish.
I respectfully remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
.jpg) |
| Greek-Orthodox Church, Capernum |
 |
| Church of the Multiplication, Tagba |
 |
| The rock. |
After Capernum, we visited Tagba. Tagba is the traditional site of the miracle of the multiplication of loaves and fish. Until 1948, it was also an Arab village. Now, Tagba is a Christian pilgrimage site. The small church has been built around a large rock, upon which Jesus stood to bless the bread and fish. There was an enormous group of Christian Indians in Tagba today. They came in a big bus.
Today, I wore pants and a hoodie and so I was allowed to enter the holy sites...something to keep in mind in case you ever want to visit the Holy Land...they don't take kindly to exposed shoulders.
Then we arrived in Tzfat. Tzfat is the highest city in Israel. It is one of Judaism's four holy cities and is the world center for Kabbalah. Because of its deep foundation in Jewish mysticism and magic, the city is built around superstition and magic. Every doorway is painted turquoise or blue...colors thought to ward off evil. The religious women dress in turquoise and even wear turquoise eye make-up. Chamsas and the ever-seeing eye hang in every home and garden.
Upon my request, Dan and I visited every synagogue we could find in the city. We also visited the artist quarter where we got to talk to some local artists. It was a great chance for us to practice our Hebrew away from the kibbutz. We also visited the famous Safed Candle Shop. In the shop they had a giant wax candle sculpted into a David and Goliath scene. It was clever. I especially liked that Goliath had crusty toenails. We ate Yemenese food for lunch...which included Yemenese Ganja Juice for Dan. Dan bought some fly Naot sandals and then we explored the old cemetery.
 |
| The Artist Colony in Tzfat |
With undying love for cheeze, Sublime, Chevrolets, hand wipes, a mammoth orange, and St. Peter Fish.
I respectfully remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Yabba-dabba don't
Today, I got poop on my arm...and this time it wasn't fish poop... (you'll have to read on to hear more)
Dan and I are on a trip. Yesterday we caught a bus to Hadera, rented a car from a wonderful woman named Jaquelin, and drove to the Kinneret.
We are booked, for two nights, at the Tiberius Hostel in...Tiberius. In our room there are two sets of bunk beds. Dan and I have one and the other is being shared by two Australians. Both are very friendly. The four of us share a bathroom.
One of our bunkmates is an Australian of Indian descent, named Anil. Anil smokes A LOT of cigarettes and seems to have an affinity for canned beer. I have yet to see him when he is not wearing linen trousers.
The other bunkmate is a middle-aged bearded Australian named Michael. It has become very clear to me that Michael has not been in Israel very long. I draw this conclusion based entirely upon his bathroom etiquette. Israelis have very specific bathroom habits which are adopted, out of necessity, by anyone who has lived here.
Here are my observations:
1) As I mentioned in a previous post, the Squeegees is a fundamental tool in the Israeli bathroom. Today, after his shower, Michael had NOT sqeegeed!
2) Every Israeli toilet comes equipped with two flush buttons. One is the #1 button and one is the #2 button. Generally, the #2 button is larger than the #1 button, just to make life simple. All I'm going to say is that Michael pushed the wrong button.
All around, though, Michael is very very nice.
Moving on...
Tiberius is a city on the western shore of the Kinneret. It was established in 20 CE and named in honor of the Roman emperor, Tiberius. Tiberius has been venerated in Judaism since the middle of the 2nd century CE and since the 16th century, it has been considered one of Judaism's four holy cities, along with Jerusalem, Hebron, and Tzfat. Now...Tiberius is a tourist hub.
We are here through Shabbat so there isn't much going on. The city is a bit of a ghost town. We arrived yesterday around 1pm and explored every inch of the city. We visited the ancient ruins, went to an abandoned mosque, walked the promenade, played billiards, visited the tomb of Maimonedes (although I couldn't enter in my shorts) and ate cola flavored blow pops.
Today we hit the road around 9am and drove north around the western edge of the lake. Our first stop was the Mount of Beatitudes, on the northwestern shore of the Kinneret. This is the supposed spot from which Jesus delivered the Sermon on the Mount. Again I was in shorts (it was 90 degrees) and so I wasn't allowed into the shrine...the grounds were beautiful though.
We stopped next at the Gadot Lookout, took some awesome pictures, and then hit our original destination...the Dvora Waterfall on the Gilaboon river. We hiked...and hiked...and hiked. To me, as an American from the east coast, the trail was surprisingly treacherous...scaling rock piles, wading through rivers, and scaling cliffs, in order to move ahead. However, while I was starting to laugh uncontrollably from sun exposure and exhaustion, Israeli families (teeming with little children in Tevas) passed me on their "leisurely stroll" with picnic lunches on their backs. The views of the Hula Valley were unbelievable.
At one point Dan made a brilliant observation. He said, "Man, Israel really makes you work for the awesome scenery. It not like you just walk down a little asphalt path and BAM...a pretty picture. Nope, if you want it, you have to work for it, dammit". .
I think this same thing applies to Israeli people. I have found that you can't expect to walk into a situation and feel surrounded by friends. You have to prove yourself to Israelis. You have to work for friendship and companionship. But once you get it, it is so very worth the effort.
Now for my poop story...
Dan and I took a break from hiking to wade in a stream that looked like it was straight out of the Garden of Eden. Vines of pink flowers hung from a cliff face and bamboo shaded the water. It was paradise. We left our shoes and water bottles on a boulder in the middle of the stream. When we decided to press ahead, we put on our shoes, picked up our water bottles and started to walk. Five minutes later, we started to notice a very pungent poopish smell. Dan realized that the smell was coming from the bottom of his water bottle...and it was poop. Someone had pooped on the rock and he had set his bottle in it! Then I realized I had poop on my arm...I had smeared my arm in human poop! Mmmmm.
Which reminds me of a quick note on Israelis:
When Israelis are going on a day trip, they never leave the house without a roll of toilet paper...just in case. They must learn this in the army. I think I am going to adopt this practice.
All-in-all, Dan and I walked about 10 kilometers. At the end of the trail there was an ice cream truck. We each ate a popsicle.
Now, we are sitting in the hostel lobby drinking wine and watching the Munich/Chelsea game with old men...a glorious day from start to finish.
With undying love for Firehook mediterranean crackers, DJ Flula, peacocks, and sparrows.
I humbly remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
Dan and I are on a trip. Yesterday we caught a bus to Hadera, rented a car from a wonderful woman named Jaquelin, and drove to the Kinneret.
We are booked, for two nights, at the Tiberius Hostel in...Tiberius. In our room there are two sets of bunk beds. Dan and I have one and the other is being shared by two Australians. Both are very friendly. The four of us share a bathroom.
One of our bunkmates is an Australian of Indian descent, named Anil. Anil smokes A LOT of cigarettes and seems to have an affinity for canned beer. I have yet to see him when he is not wearing linen trousers.
The other bunkmate is a middle-aged bearded Australian named Michael. It has become very clear to me that Michael has not been in Israel very long. I draw this conclusion based entirely upon his bathroom etiquette. Israelis have very specific bathroom habits which are adopted, out of necessity, by anyone who has lived here.
Here are my observations:
1) As I mentioned in a previous post, the Squeegees is a fundamental tool in the Israeli bathroom. Today, after his shower, Michael had NOT sqeegeed!
2) Every Israeli toilet comes equipped with two flush buttons. One is the #1 button and one is the #2 button. Generally, the #2 button is larger than the #1 button, just to make life simple. All I'm going to say is that Michael pushed the wrong button.
All around, though, Michael is very very nice.
Moving on...
Tiberius is a city on the western shore of the Kinneret. It was established in 20 CE and named in honor of the Roman emperor, Tiberius. Tiberius has been venerated in Judaism since the middle of the 2nd century CE and since the 16th century, it has been considered one of Judaism's four holy cities, along with Jerusalem, Hebron, and Tzfat. Now...Tiberius is a tourist hub.
We are here through Shabbat so there isn't much going on. The city is a bit of a ghost town. We arrived yesterday around 1pm and explored every inch of the city. We visited the ancient ruins, went to an abandoned mosque, walked the promenade, played billiards, visited the tomb of Maimonedes (although I couldn't enter in my shorts) and ate cola flavored blow pops.
 |
| Mount of Beatitudes |
We stopped next at the Gadot Lookout, took some awesome pictures, and then hit our original destination...the Dvora Waterfall on the Gilaboon river. We hiked...and hiked...and hiked. To me, as an American from the east coast, the trail was surprisingly treacherous...scaling rock piles, wading through rivers, and scaling cliffs, in order to move ahead. However, while I was starting to laugh uncontrollably from sun exposure and exhaustion, Israeli families (teeming with little children in Tevas) passed me on their "leisurely stroll" with picnic lunches on their backs. The views of the Hula Valley were unbelievable.
At one point Dan made a brilliant observation. He said, "Man, Israel really makes you work for the awesome scenery. It not like you just walk down a little asphalt path and BAM...a pretty picture. Nope, if you want it, you have to work for it, dammit". .
I think this same thing applies to Israeli people. I have found that you can't expect to walk into a situation and feel surrounded by friends. You have to prove yourself to Israelis. You have to work for friendship and companionship. But once you get it, it is so very worth the effort.
Now for my poop story...
Dan and I took a break from hiking to wade in a stream that looked like it was straight out of the Garden of Eden. Vines of pink flowers hung from a cliff face and bamboo shaded the water. It was paradise. We left our shoes and water bottles on a boulder in the middle of the stream. When we decided to press ahead, we put on our shoes, picked up our water bottles and started to walk. Five minutes later, we started to notice a very pungent poopish smell. Dan realized that the smell was coming from the bottom of his water bottle...and it was poop. Someone had pooped on the rock and he had set his bottle in it! Then I realized I had poop on my arm...I had smeared my arm in human poop! Mmmmm.
Which reminds me of a quick note on Israelis:
When Israelis are going on a day trip, they never leave the house without a roll of toilet paper...just in case. They must learn this in the army. I think I am going to adopt this practice.
All-in-all, Dan and I walked about 10 kilometers. At the end of the trail there was an ice cream truck. We each ate a popsicle.
Now, we are sitting in the hostel lobby drinking wine and watching the Munich/Chelsea game with old men...a glorious day from start to finish.
With undying love for Firehook mediterranean crackers, DJ Flula, peacocks, and sparrows.
I humbly remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
Monday, May 14, 2012
Mmmm Home...
I apologize for my lonely blog and your lonely emails.
I have been spending a lot of time trying to stayi in touch with all those who I love so so much. I have been finding it difficult to stay afloat and I made a decision to be more present HERE for my last two months. That, of course, does not mean that I have forgotten about you guys...you are my strength and my foundation.
Lately, it has been difficult to wrap my brain around my return to America (I think everyone knew this would happen). It is incredible how quickly yet imperceptively life shifted and how very attached I have grown to an experience that was once only an abstract idea.
As the tug-of-war in my heart presses on, I remember the things that pull me back home. In this entry, I will share a list of SOME of the THINGS and PLACES that I have been missing.
Things I Love About Home:
-Grandma's back porch on Tuesday nights, manipulation with Grandpa, and cucumber & onion salad.
-Robins and squirrels and cherry blossoms and weeding the garden
-Saturday mornings in the West Kiosk with Starbucks and cross-stitch...and Nathaniel
-Walking to Spro for a cup of their freshly brewed iced coffee.
-Morningstar Spicy Black Bean Burgers
-Charmin toilet paper
-Thunderstorms
-A dinner of corn and tomatoes
-Trips to the farmer's market and pickles-on-a-stick
-The smell of farm-fresh tomatoes in the summer
-Watching baseball games at Turps with a bucket of Boh
-Crab mountains and sandcastles and photo booths
-Going to Wal-Mart in the middle of the night to buy gummi-worms
-Uno Attack
-Walking Mitzvah at dusk with Daddy
-Fireflies
-Shucking corn on Grandma's front porch
-Pickled tomatoes
-Wilderness: the frog slide, putt-putt, my cousins, Just Dance 2, crossword puzzles by the pool, the lake, and the air hockey table.
-Artscape
-Stew Leonards: the Wishing Well, fried chicken and coleslaw on the beach, singing lettuce, and the smell of the bakery.
-Collecting hermit crabs
-Chick n' Ruth's Deli...and Annapolis.
-Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream
-Potted plants...specifically our Basil
-Inside jokes...specifically those I have with my siblings
-Whole Foods-drinking Kombucha and eating a loaf of olive bread in the car on the way home.
-Driving my car
-Cheddar cheese and string cheese and swiss cheese
-Surfer Blood at the Ottobar
-My fingerprint Toms
-Lithuanian Dance Hall and J. Patrick's and Blob's Park
-the Orioles
-L.P. Steamers
-Dinner on the patio at Chipotle with my family...and MItzvah tied up outside the gate.
-Waking up in the morning to the sound of cicadas.
-My bicycle.
-First Thursdays in Mt. Vernon Square
-Playing scratch-offs at Zissimos
-The Vegan Sandwich (plus goat cheese) at Milk & Honey
-Drinking beer in the fountain at night
-Police on segways
-Rehoboth Beach and Skeeball and penguins and walruses
-Truckeroo and grilled cheese sandwiches
-Slip N' Slides
-Sirens in the distance
-Walking to 7-11 in the snow with Daddy
-Morris
To be continued...
With Undying Love for (see above),
I humbly remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
I have been spending a lot of time trying to stayi in touch with all those who I love so so much. I have been finding it difficult to stay afloat and I made a decision to be more present HERE for my last two months. That, of course, does not mean that I have forgotten about you guys...you are my strength and my foundation.
Lately, it has been difficult to wrap my brain around my return to America (I think everyone knew this would happen). It is incredible how quickly yet imperceptively life shifted and how very attached I have grown to an experience that was once only an abstract idea.
As the tug-of-war in my heart presses on, I remember the things that pull me back home. In this entry, I will share a list of SOME of the THINGS and PLACES that I have been missing.
Things I Love About Home:
-Grandma's back porch on Tuesday nights, manipulation with Grandpa, and cucumber & onion salad.
-Robins and squirrels and cherry blossoms and weeding the garden
-Saturday mornings in the West Kiosk with Starbucks and cross-stitch...and Nathaniel
-Walking to Spro for a cup of their freshly brewed iced coffee.
-Morningstar Spicy Black Bean Burgers
-Charmin toilet paper
-Thunderstorms
-A dinner of corn and tomatoes
-Trips to the farmer's market and pickles-on-a-stick
-The smell of farm-fresh tomatoes in the summer
-Watching baseball games at Turps with a bucket of Boh
-Crab mountains and sandcastles and photo booths
-Going to Wal-Mart in the middle of the night to buy gummi-worms
-Uno Attack
-Walking Mitzvah at dusk with Daddy
-Fireflies
-Shucking corn on Grandma's front porch
-Pickled tomatoes
-Wilderness: the frog slide, putt-putt, my cousins, Just Dance 2, crossword puzzles by the pool, the lake, and the air hockey table.
-Artscape
-Stew Leonards: the Wishing Well, fried chicken and coleslaw on the beach, singing lettuce, and the smell of the bakery.
-Collecting hermit crabs
-Chick n' Ruth's Deli...and Annapolis.
-Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream
-Potted plants...specifically our Basil
-Inside jokes...specifically those I have with my siblings
-Whole Foods-drinking Kombucha and eating a loaf of olive bread in the car on the way home.
-Driving my car
-Cheddar cheese and string cheese and swiss cheese
-Surfer Blood at the Ottobar
-My fingerprint Toms
-Lithuanian Dance Hall and J. Patrick's and Blob's Park
-the Orioles
-L.P. Steamers
-Dinner on the patio at Chipotle with my family...and MItzvah tied up outside the gate.
-Waking up in the morning to the sound of cicadas.
-My bicycle.
-First Thursdays in Mt. Vernon Square
-Playing scratch-offs at Zissimos
-The Vegan Sandwich (plus goat cheese) at Milk & Honey
-Drinking beer in the fountain at night
-Police on segways
-Rehoboth Beach and Skeeball and penguins and walruses
-Truckeroo and grilled cheese sandwiches
-Slip N' Slides
-Sirens in the distance
-Walking to 7-11 in the snow with Daddy
-Morris
To be continued...
With Undying Love for (see above),
I humbly remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
Thursday, April 19, 2012
יום השואה: לזכור ולתקן
Yesterday was Yom HaShoah.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYooy2KcKbE&feature=youtube_gdata_player
Yesterday at 10:00 am the sirens went off. At 10:00 am every Israeli stood atogether in silence. Cars stopped. At 10:00 am every Israeli, and every Jew, remembered where we came from and those whose lives were lost at at the hands of intolerance and ignorance.
The sirens are powerfully haunting. The entire country stops in respect and remembrance. I have never experienced anything like it. Here are some videos:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1lYADekjoG0&feature=youtube_gdata_player
At 9:48 I was eating breakfast with my coworkers in the dining room. Noam looked at the time and said we had to hurry back before the sirens started. We got to the madan at 9:58. We ran inside and turned on the radio. The emotions I experienced in these moments before the sirens reminded me of waiting for a tsunami to hit. I think it was suspense caused by the knowledge that something powerful was coming and inevitable. Then the sirens started. Even without the radio on, we could hear them. They are deafening and they fill the air. It was stunning. At that moment, I felt a deep sadness and yet an intense appreciation for my life.
I am lucky.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Pesach
Today is the last day of Pesach. In 45 minutes I will join my family to celebrate the coming of Shabbat and the conclusion of Pesach.
I spent Seder here, on the Kibbutz, with my family. The day of Seder, Dan and I helped Leann make floral arrangements in the dining room. Leann gathered the flowers herself, from the fields surrounding Ma'agan Michael. She arranged the flowers in an organic and whimsical way that was quite impressive.
Seder was HUGE. I think the official attendance count was something like 900 people. Sharon, my mom, led the seder while I sat with the rest of the family and ate matzah with ketchup. At the end of Seder, Sharon and I sang Oseh Shalom Bimromav together, on stage. It was a special moment. I was very nervous. I am glad did it. Sharon says that it is in challenging yourself and doing things that you are scared of that you grow. She is right.
Seder was different than I am used to. Not religious. Fast. Big. I missed home. I missed my family and mama's matzah lasagna...and Mina's matzah candy!
Pesach in Israel is strange. Those who keep kosher, follow the sephardic tradition and eat rice and legumes and barley. I don't which meant no hummus. Many people look at you like you're crazy when they realize you observe Pesach. Someone even asked me "Why?!"
Once you leave the kibbutz, keeping kosher gets a little easier. Restaurants advertise that they are Kosher for Pesach and grocery stores hang sheets over the shelves of food that isn't kosher because you aren't allowed to buy it. In restaurants, you can get matzah for the table instead of bread. What tickled me the most was walking down the street in Tel Aviv and seeing random matzah crackers littered across the sidewalk, abandoned in the park, and being eaten by men in the mechanics shop. It made me feel proud. Often, during Pesach in America, you really feel alone. While you eat dry matzah and macaroons, everyone else is indulging in jelly beans and chocolate bunnies. Here there were no chocolate bunnies...just matzah in the grass. It might sound sad, but actually, it felt refreshing.
I like the feeling of giving something up in order to gain a higher and more alert concienciousness of my Jewish identity and of myself. I have always found it comforting to know that I am just one amongst millions of people who are making a similar sacrifice for a common purpose. We are reminded not to take for granted our freedoms and to celebrate what it is to be Jewish. Pesach is a time to look inward. To relieve the body from the bondage of indulgence in order to cleanse the soul and open the mind. It is a time to recollect where we came from and how we will move forward. Forward I move...
!חג שמח לכולם
With undying love for מימונה, שסקים, בבקשה, אין כניסה לפילים, וזיקיות
(meemoonah, shesekim [a delicious fruit growing on my neighbor's tree], No Entry for Elephants, picking grapefruits, and chameleons.)
I respectfully remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
the squeegee.
The squeegee (see left) is a staple of Israeli housekeeping. Seemingly, the mop does not exist in the Land of Milk and Honey. There is only the squeegee and the broom. Sometimes the broom doubles as a scrub brush but ALWAYS the squeegee reigns supreme. The squeegee serves multiple functions.
1) When water is not used, the squeegee can be used in place of a broom. For example, if there are matzah crumbs on the floor, and you are an Ulpanist, you can use the squeegee to gather and push the matzah crumbs out of the room.
2)When used with water (as it is intended), the squeegee pushes the water around and ultimately down the drain. All Israeli bathrooms are equipped with a drain in the middle of the floor. This way the water can be removed easily. This is very necessary because, on the Kibbutz, the entire bathroom is your shower. There is NO shower curtain OR tub. Thus, after a shower, the entire bathroom is wet. So, then you take the squeegee and push all the water down the drain.
(quick tangent: before you take a shower, you also have to move your toilet paper to a high shelf AND lift the toilet seat to avoid getting it wet. )
3)I have also seen the squeegee be used to remove the water from a tabletop after a spill AND to clean the windshield of a van. Mind you...this would be the same squeegee that is used to clean the bathroom floor.
As I see it, the squeegee would not serve much purpose for an American household because, unlike in Israel, American architecture does not revolve around the squeegee. It is rare to have a drain in the floor...which entirely eliminates the usefulness of a squeegee. This is unfortunate because I am growing quite fond of squeegeeing.
With Undying Love for Squeegees...
I Respectfully Remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
Thursday, March 29, 2012
יום חמישי
As per usual, I am eating cookies...only this time they are special. They were homemade by Nonny! She sent me cookies and now my room feels like home. Mmmmmm. Angela just told me to stop eating. She said, את משמינה״"..." you are getting fat". Haha. I'm not getting fat but she is very worried. I am very happy.
Today brings me to the end of another week here on the kibbutz. The week has been fairly uneventful. Although, on Tueday night, Dan and I ate dinner with our adopted family. We made Sushi and it was a blast. I left covered in "tattoos". The kids drew stars, butterflies, skulls, hearts and flowers all over my arms. I was sad when they washed off in the shower. We also "fat-boothed" (look for pictures on Facebook) and they taught me how to pop-and-lock. Then we practiced the four questions for Seder Pesach.
Today I had my second Hebrew exam. I think it was okay. I'll see on Sunday. I wrote a funny essay about nature. Speaking of nature, I killed a fish today. I stepped on it. It was an accident. I drank too much coffee and was all jittery. I think I need to cut back on the coffee...it is causing harm to small, armless creatures. Speaking of fish, one pooped on my face today. I injected him and his poop shot onto my chin. I was actually impressed. Anyway, how many people can say that their face has been pooped on by a fish? I think it's probably good luck.
Angela just got home and popped open a can of liquid energy. I am scared. I think she is going to clean. Oh geez...she just put on Ukrainian trance music...it is getting real serious. :)
More later. I'm going to Alex's to make soup.
With undying love for facebook monster-offs, my dolphin pillowcase, dominos, Voxer...and (right now) my earphones!
I humbly remain,
J. Michael Hess Webber
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