September 25, 1972

Succoth.  That means ten days off from school.  I’m sure my daughter Judy will be sad, as she seems to be fitting in well.  Ben not so much.  Now Hava, his teacher, is complaining about his art work.  He goes to sleep saying he doesn’t want to go to school, he wakes up saying he doesn’t want to go to school.  The only concession Hava has made is to admit that Ben is fitting in much sooner than other immigrants she’s dealt with.  And when I did go to pick him up, I saw a group of kids running to embrace him, calling him, “Benny,” which is how he’s known in school and among the relatives.

(After reading through this letter, I wondered how much harm we did to Ben, as he is now called—he hated the name Benjy (which we used most of his childhood)—by dropping him into school where he didn’t know the language or the environment.  So I WhatsAp-ed him, because how else does a mother communicate now, and asked him if he remembered being unhappy.  He said he only has one memory from that year, drinking gasoline from a pump he thought was water. Phew!)

Meanwhile, we’ve joined Kupot Holim Maccabi for our health needs.  With the regular Kupot Holim you have to go to a clinic and wait in line. I understand that many people go there just to socialize.  With Maccabi it’s almost like private practice.  We get a list of doctors and can choose any on the list.  Most of them operate out of their apartments.

The good thing about Israel historically is that everywhere you turn, there are ruins.  This Saturday we walked only three blocks to where they were excavating a Philistine temple.  There was a group of Americans touring at the same time.  When I took a drink from an outside fountain, one of the men asked me if it was cold.  I said yes.   His wife vehemently disagreed and then they both started complaining that there were no cold water fountains in Israel.  I would have liked to have pointed out that I have a sister-in-law who doesn’t even have hot running water, but I didn’t think they’d grasp the concept.

On the brightest news possible, I’ve found a butcher!  He’s Russian and has cornered the new immigrant marketplace.

The fight against the terrorists in Lebanon goes on.  The television news showed an Israeli soldier buying a Coke from a Lebanese vendor.  There are wild claims from Lebanon about deaths that aren’t happening.  It’s hard to pick through the threads of all the stories to find out the truth, should such a thing exist in the Middle East.

Meanwhile the police aren’t arresting that agitator Meir Kahane. Why!  His group is allegedly sending arms to the US.

I make good use of my radio, listening to Radio Cairo, as it plays rock music.  In between they remind Mizrahi Jews that they’re being exploited by their Polish masters.  Well, aren’t we all!  These Eastern Europeans have absolutely no idea how to get things done in a timely fashion.  A stamp here, a staple there, go to one office, you need to go to another.  It’s crazy.

There’s little news from the US here, but I do keep up with the VOA and the BBC.  Like everyone else in Israel, I’ve become news-obsessed.