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

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.  

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

Tony Zusman

the world will miss you. i will miss you. 

Rest in peace, brother.

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

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.

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

my cat died.

R.I.P. Shachar...meow meow.

Happy Birthday Bob Dylan...meow meow...






...meow.