I took the 5 a.m. train up to Haifa this morning to get my work permit which was languishing in the Jerusalem visa office. Suddenly about 20 religious men barged into my rail car, put on their prayer garbs and began chanting and dovening (rocking back and forth) all the while facing the rising sun. I kind of recognized what was going on, this is the early morning minion I had heard about. In order to be a good sport, I also started chanting (actually humming along) and rocking (and rolling) with everyone else. When I got to Haifa, my permit was issued in about 5 minutes, even though I was told it would take 2 months in Jerusalem. Go figure, God works in strange ways.
National Library: I am sitting in a big fluffy chair facing the enormous window mosaics at the Israeli National Library. The mural is called "eternal peace." Actually, everything in this city has some kind of "peace" angle which is especially depressing since Jerusalem is one of those cities that has never been at peace. You know the mural is about peace because on the blue panel there are "plowshares" (or as we Midwesterners call them "shovels") which the swords have been beaten into. Get it?
Anyway, in my left hand I am reading the book, Looking for a Hero: Joe Ronnie Hooper written by my 1962 college roomate Pete Maslowski, a great Viet Nam era biography which captures everything that was wrong with that war. In my right hand, I pick up the International Herald Tribune and read the first line of Tom Friendman's column, "Stan Greenberg, one of America's most experienced pollsters..." Stan was another good college buddy who introduced me to the woman I lost my virginity to in one of those early 1960's Washington, DC summers. All around me were "weird" Jews in long beards arguing loudly in Hebrew (maybe Yiddish) about esoteric questions of Biblical law. Part of me is in Oxford, Ohio, circa 1960 and part of me is in Jerusalem, circa now. It is truly a time warp moment.
Beitar Update: When we last left my soccer team they were going crazy on the field following their Israeli Cup victory. Their owner had disappeared into Russia while hiding out from an arms deal to Angola that soured. Now it seems that one of its stars, Amit Ben Shushan, was video taped at the celebration singing, "I hate you Arabs." He explained that he had gotten drunk and was singing along with everyone else, not understanding the words he was saying. This is exactly the same excuse (except for the drunk part) that I used to explain my lapse in judgment while cheering at games. But I REALLY don't know what the words mean, just as when I prayed with the men on the train. It's easy to get into trouble when you don't know the language!
Birthday Gift: I turned 65 this week and had my birthday in Jerusalem, which is kind of cool. Everyone wined and dined me; really I drank wine, can AA be far behind? The best part is that I now qualify for HUGE senior discounts, everything is half price, bus/movies/shows, even the front seats on the buses are reserved for "seniors only."
I have been obsessed with a song I heard on the bus last month; the bus drivers get to listen to the radio as they drive, usually loudly. When we went to Krakow, the classical version of it was played at one of the concerts. Vardit went on a mission to various record stores and hummed the ten notes that kept running through my mind. After many, what must have been very embarrassing encounters, she found the song and gave it to me for my birthday. Enjoy:
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