October 9 & 15, 1972

October 9

My son Ben is speaking Hebrew!  His teacher Hava told us that she asked him a lot of questions in Hebrew and he answered every one.  He also says he has a lot of friends at at school.  At home he speaks mainly English, unlike my daughter Judy, who sometimes prefers to use Hebrew.  I’m impressed with my kids.

I might or might not have a part-time job as a typist.  Thank you, Katherine Gibbs (read more here, here and here). As usual with Israel nothing is straight forward. First, the woman who interviewed me said she couldn’t hire me because Abe worked at the university.  Then she called and sent me out for interviews.  Then one person wanted me full time because of my typing and editing skills and I said no, I had the children.  But the other only wanted me half time.  I wait expectantly.  I live with hope because otherwise it’s so boring just sitting at home.

Our bank is going on strike next week.  We’ll need to get some cash out.  Every week there’s a different vital service that strikes.  They never last long.  Is it just that they need a vacation?

October 15

Well, another Ben experience.  Our nephew Aaron was sitting on the couch with Ben, playing legos, when suddening Ben’s head dropped, hitting the edge of the table. He lifted his head and blood was rushing everywhere.

My husband Abe and Aaron were panicked.  I got out the car keys to take Ben to the hospital, but Aaron called an ambulance and said something about Ben hitting an artery, whereupon the ambulance driver told him if that was the case, he’d be dead before the ambulance arrived.

I looked.  The cut was above his eye and still gushing.  The ambulance came, the driver annoyed because he said he rushed to get here because he thought the kid was bleeding out.

Abe and I piled into the ambulance with Ben and were taken to the hospital.  The siren was blaring, but in Israel no one gets out of the way for an ambulance.  It’s always me first, especially when driving.

When we arrived at the hospital, I was a little bit trepidatious because of all the stories in the news about bad service in the ER.  But we were seen right away, charged $2 for the visit and $3 for X-rays.  Ben was very impressed with his X-rays—even though they showed nothing!  The doctor used tape to stitch up the wound because he said it would leave less of a scar.  (You can still see where he knocked his head because it was on the brow.)

We left the hospital, finding ourselves in the middle of Tel Aviv, trying to get a taxi.  One stopped immediately when he saw Abe carrying Ben, even though it had other people in it,.  Children really are cherished in Israel.

We didn’t let Ben go to school the next day, which was Friday.  He was upset because he wanted to tell everyone about his ambulance ride.  On the other hand, he doesn’t understand why he has to go to school on Sunday, so there’s basically only one day off.

The only upsetting incident at the hospital was seeing a family bringing in a woman who tried to commit suicide.  They were yelling she was bleeding, they were totally ignored by the doctors on duty.  Finally, they just left.

On the Judy front, her teachers tell us they’ve never seen such a well-adjusted immigrant.  Speaking of which, if it weren’t for the money, I think we’d stay here.  It’s such a vibrant country with so much happening, so unlike dull, deadly Urbana, Illinois.  Plus, between the relatives and friends, we have such a wonderful community with which to share our lives.