Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Documents, rashes and one Norwegian blogger

Life has been rather hectic in something something world, lately, hence the lack of blog entries. The Little One has been sick on and off for the past week, beginning with a throat infection last week and ending in a rash and swelling that was serious enough to warrant a trip to the hospital yesterday evening, at his doctor's suggestion. According to the Husband, he's already looking better this morning, and with any luck, they should be on their way home soon. One humorous moment passed last night during a visit to the eye doctor, who asked us if the Little One has any allergies. Husband and I looked at each other, and then looked at our son, whose face, hands and feet were severely swollen, and whose body was covered from head to toe with a rash. I turned back to the doctor, answered, "apparently", and the Husband and I laughed.

And of course, while this whole situation was unfolding, my old friend Murphy came to pay me a visit. For the past few weeks, I've been totally swamped at work, drowning in over two hundred pages of last-minute documents and tight deadlines. The individual managing the project believed that it wouldn't take too long, given that the documents only required formatting, and that checking the English wouldn't be necessary. Ummmm… Yeah… Sure… They believed that checking the English was "extra", especially since the target audience isn't made up of native speakers either (and are living in a third country, not known for excellence in its mastery of the English language). Knowing that I was essentially shooting myself in the foot, I begged to differ, and won approval from my boss to, ahem, "do my job". Suddenly, I was drowning in a torrential sea of badly written documents, I had other work-style projects on the burner as well, and at home, we were in crisis mode. Hopefully, now that the Little One is returning to his usual dimensions and he's no longer the color of a strawberry, life will revert back to its normal hectic state.

There has been one very bright spot during this period. Last Thursday evening, I had the opportunity to meet up with a really terrific politics and current events blogger, Jan, from Secular Blasphemy. Jan is a Norwegian blogger whose blog I've been reading for years, and whose writings tend to be very pro-Israel, unlike a great deal of the Norwegian mainstream media. Anyway, while reading Jan's blog just over a week ago, I discovered that he was vacationing in Israel. I quickly sent him and email and left him a comment, asking if he'd like to meet up at some point during his trip. He quickly responded in the affirmative, and on the day he arrived in Tel Aviv we all (all being Jan, his two friends, and me) met for drinks and dinner. It was a fascinating, very enjoyable evening, where we discussed everything from politics to lutefisk, and I was once again amazed by how well Norwegians can hold their beer.

Anyhow, I really must go read Harry Potter do something productive before the family returns…

Sunday, July 29, 2007

80s Music Video Sunday #32

As distinctive as the sounds of the 80s were, the fashions and styles were no less memorable. Who can forget the white stripe painted across Adam Ant's nose, Michael Jackson's ever-present white glove (surgical, to be used in little boy emergencies, no doubt), Madonna's, ummm, well, everything (and yes, for those of you in the younger crowd, she has indeed been around that long)? Big hair was everywhere, on the guys as well as the girls... Shoulder pads that would make any linebacker proud... Lots of color and paisley, with a pull towards geometric prints in general.

And of course, when the stars were doing it, so were we. No white stripes painted across my nose, but I can remember at least one or two male friends who wore make-up on a regular basis, and big hair – either in the form of being puffy or spiky – was all the rage. Mullets and mohawks were inexplicably popular (though admittedly, the latter seemed to be a form of personal expression emanating mostly from the school jocks), and I'm guessing that were a poll to be taken today, those of us who grew up in the 80s would probably show the greatest desire in wanting to see our old photos burned.

In my mind, there is one artist from the 80s who perfectly embodies everything flamboyant and outlandish from that era. Boy George turned androgyny into an art form, and I can remember at least one of my friends doing his best to emulate his unique style for a party (I'm sure I've got the "blackmail" photos somewhere). Musically brilliant and fabulously eccentric, Boy George's talents helped to turn the band Culture Club into superstars, producing hit after hit with their outrageous songs and videos, and proving themselves to be no less colorful offstage.

For small-town suburban kids like us, Culture Club was fresh and exciting, both in terms of sound and looks, and I was a big fan. Even today, I still enjoy their music, so much so that I had one of their songs as my ring tone, until NRG heard my phone ring when we were in Amsterdam last Fall and asked that I please change it to pretty much anything else. I complied, and before I remembered to switch it back after our trip, I upgraded my cell phone, losing my old ring tones and downloading new ones.

Today's 80s Music Video Sunday entry features Culture Club, the artists who, for me, are the epitome of everything 80s. Today's song is, incidentally, also the one that was on my cell phone...



Karma Chameleon
Culture Club

Desert loving in your eyes all the way
If I listen to your lies would you say
I'm a man without conviction
I'm a man who doesn't know
How to sell a contradiction
You come and go
You come and go

Karma Karma Karma Karma Karma Chameleon
You come and go
You come and go
Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dream
Red, gold and green
Red, gold and green

Didn't hear your wicked words every day
And you used to be so sweet I heard you say
That my love was an addiction
When we cling our love is strong
When you go you're gone forever
You string along
You string along

Every day is like a survival
You're my lover not my rival
Every day is like a survival
You're my lover not my rival

I'm a man without conviction
I'm a man who doesn't know
How to sell a contradiction
You come and go
You come and go

Monday, July 23, 2007

A state for all its citizens?

Despite what some would have you believe, it is a sad truth that the Israeli Arab sector of our society is often marginalized and discriminated against, whether it be the poor quality infrastructure of the Arab towns and villages (not to mention the bureaucratic obstacles involved in making improvements, receiving permits to build new homes and meet the needs of natural growth in existing areas) inferior schools, greater difficulty in finding jobs, and so on. Arab families such as the Kaadan family have had to go to court in order to fight for the right to live in a better neighborhood, simply because the town they wanted to live in was Jewish.

There are those who might say that these Arabs are simply getting what they deserve as a result of their divided loyalties, without accepting the possibility that this issue may stem from the fact that this minority in Israeli society has consistently been treated as second-class citizens. Had Israel taken the time to invest in these communities, to improve infrastructure, to ensure that Arab Israelis felt equal to their Jewish counterparts, perhaps the loyalties would not have been so divided. That's not to say, of course, that everything would be perfect, but maybe the situation would have been far less problematic than it is today had attempts at least been made at ensuring equality vis a vis quality of life issues. Instead, successive Israeli governments and quasi-governmental organizations have continued to discriminate at every turn, and have created an environment where such discrimination is the accepted norm.

In an attempt to narrow the gap between the two cultures, Education Minister Yuli Tamir announced yesterday that lessons about the Naqba (the Catastrophe) - the Palestinian narrative of the events that took place at the time of Israel's independence in 1948 will be in books used in Arab-Israeli schools, in addition to the already taught Jewish narrative. I'm only sorry that Jewish school children will not be given the same opportunity as well, to give them some insight into the Arab sector. Providing these students with a window to a fuller picture will enable them to better understand the complexities of Israeli society, and by not doing so, these students are being done a disservice. It is akin to the creationism vs. evolutionism debates going on in many American school systems, where only one theory is favored over the other, or the teaching of abstinence instead of actually educating students about sex.

Politicians on the right are predictably incensed by Tamir's move (I'm just waiting for someone to call Tamir a Nazi...) and have called for her dismissal. It is a shame that these politicians feel so threatened by an act that allows the narrative of a significant number of Israeli citizens to enter the realm of acceptable public discourse; an act that shows that the society in which they live is willing to officially accept that the independence celebrated by Israeli Jews is not necessarily celebrated by everyone who lives here. The inability of these people to even be open to the possibility of allowing Israeli Arabs to explore their roots; to force them to accept an historical narrative with which they cannot identify while negating the existence of another narrative is nothing short of a travesty, and I daresay a racist one at that.

While I suspect that neither narrative is completely accurate from a factual point of view, it is important for our future as a state, for us as members of the Jewish majority to recognize that our Arab citizens have a different historical reference, one that is just as important to them as ours is to us. By the same token, if Arab Israeli citizens wish to be treated just like Jewish Israeli citizens, then they must be prepared to help bear the burdens carried by their Jewish counterparts, such as performing some form of national service (not necessarily the military, but something), and preferably not voice outspoken opinions supporting Israel's enemies (as was the case during the war last summer, when many Israeli Arabs sided with Hezbollah, and continued to blame Israel even as their own communities sustained damage and casualties inflicted by the other side).

Israel cannot claim to be a state for all its citizens as long as it continues its discriminatory practices against the minority groups that live here, and to that end, Minister Tamir's decision is a step in the right direction.

Sunday, July 22, 2007

80s Music Video Sunday #31

I have friends around the same age as me who grew up in Europe while I was growing up in the US, and it's interesting to note that while musical trends on both sides of the Atlantic were very similar, there were certainly differences in the way that these trends played out. Whenever I take one of those inane little music trivia quizzes, I know for a fact that I'll probably score much lower if the quiz is geared, for example, towards a British audience as opposed to an American audience, as many of the artists that were popular in the UK never came to the US.

Even when a band was popular on both continents, band names often had subtle differences, such as the group known in the US as Yaz, but in Europe as Yazoo which, incidentally, launched the phenomenal career of Alison Moyet, whose amazing voice is hardly known at all in the US, and probably wouldn't be known to me if I hadn't spent so much time in Israel during my high school and university years. I can even remember returning to the US following trips to Israel, dumbfounded that the music to which I'd grown so attached during my journey was almost completely unknown in the US.

While there are many popular European artists haven't been able to break into the US market at all, or have just barely made a splash, including my beloved Housemartins, there are other artists who, while popular in both regions, have select albums that were released in one area and not the other, or albums that were released in both places but with different album covers, such as Depeche Mode's album "The Singles 81>85". And of course, individual songs are often not released everywhere as singles, or songs might be released at different times. When we were in the US during June of 2006, NRG (who lives in Europe) and I were driving somewhere (we had coordinated visits to our parents for the first time ever) and Daniel Powter's "Had a Bad Day" came on the radio. The song had been a huge hit in Israel and Europe for over a year at that point, and we were both surprised to hear that it had only recently been released in the US.

This week's featured artist for 80s Music Video Sunday is one of those bands that were more popular in the UK than in the US. I can only remember two XTC songs being in relatively decent rotation in the US – "Senses Working Overtime" and "Making Plans for Nigel" – more so the former than the latter. A week spent driving around the UK nearly four years ago listening to copious amounts of local radio reminded me of this band's existence, and an online search when I returned to Israel introduced me to a treasure trove of songs by this band that I'd never known existed. Today's video is my favorite XTC song – "Mayor of Simpleton", which caught my ear the very first time I heard it.



Mayor of Simpleton
XTC

Never been near a university,
never took a paper or a learned degree,
and some of your friends think that's stupid of me,
but it's nothing that I care about.

Well I don't know how to tell the weight of the sun,
and of mathematics well I want none,
and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton,
but I know one thing and that's I love you.
When their logic grows cold and all thinking gets done,
you'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton.

I can't have been there when brains were handed round
(please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton),
or get past the cover of your books profound
(please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton),
And some of your friends thinks it's really unsound that you're ever seen talking to me.

Well I don't know how to write a big hit song,
and all crossword puzzles well I just shun,
and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton,
but I know one thing and that's I love you.

I'm not proud of the fact that I never learned much,
just feel I should say,
what you get is all real, I can't put on an act,
it takes brains to do that anyway.
(And anyway...)

And I can't unravel riddles problems and puns,
how the home computer has me on the run,
and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton,
but I know one thing and that's I love you
(I love you).

If depth of feeling is a currency
(please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton),
then I'm the man who grew the money tree
(no chain of office and no hope of getting one),
some of your friends are too brainy to see that they're paupers and that's how they'll stay.

Well I don't know how many pounds make up a ton
of all the Nobel prizes that I've never won,
and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton,
but I know one thing and that's I love you.

When all logic grows cold and all thinking gets done,
You'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton.
You'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton.
You'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor.
(Please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton.)

Thursday, July 19, 2007

The Wonderfully Wacky World of Why

The Little One turned three a few months ago, and our lives have turned into a live version of Toy Story. While taking the dog for a walk, he spends enormous amounts of time switching his "laser" from "stun" to "kill" (while perfecting his Buzz Lightyear stare - see the picture below - and yes, he really does try to make that face!), and he can often be found running around, pushing the "button" on his chest (while doing his own interpretation of what a button sounds like) in order to "expand his wings", and then calling out "To infinity and beyond!" before leaping at a surprised adult who, fortunately, has lightning quick reflexes (we haven't dropped him yet – does that make us good parents?).

Of course, it's not ALL about Toy Story. Have you ever heard the "Bob the Builder" theme song sung at the top of a three year-old's lungs – as he switches back and forth between English and Hebrew? How about when your only party trick is having your son show people how he says "Dora" or "Dohhra", depending on which language you ask him to say the name in? And speaking of Dora, I'm in the process of trying to coordinate with Allison for us to take the kids to go see the hottest show of the summer among the under-five set – "Dora and the Pirate Adventure" (or something like that...). In Hebrew. Because apparently, we really love our kids, and we just can't seem to get enough of that charming monkey sidekick of hers.

But, tot pop culture aside, one of the more fascinating things to happen lately is that he's recently entered a new phase, one that I like to refer to as "the wonderfully wacky world of why". Why? Yes. Precisely. Why. The Little One has suddenly become very curious about everything, and always wants to know why. "Why did he do that, Mommy?" "Because he was upset, sweetie." "Why was he upset, Mommy?" "Because of what his friend said." "But why, Mommy?" And on and on it goes. It can happen anytime, anywhere. It frequently happens while watching television, though it's also been known to happen when we're out and about, shopping, eating out, or hiking. Sometimes, for a bit of variety, the "whys" are interspersed with "whats" or "hows", but essentially, it all comes down to the same thing – "how can I wear Mommy and Aba down," or "how long can I get them to answer these totally inane questions," and no, it absolutely wouldn't surprise me if he secretly knew the word "inane", but was keeping it to spring on us when we least expected it. He's special that way...

Things I've learned from the Little One...

  • Band-Aids (preferably if they have pictures of the Backyardigans on them) can cure any boo-boo, even if there's only been a small bump on the head, and even when there's already a scab and the bleeding has long stopped.

  • Dresses, apparently, are only to be worn on Shabbat. To put one on at any other time is a sign of confusion.

  • If you're cute, compliments will get you everywhere ("Little One, why did you break that? Now, I'm angry." "Mommy, you're soooo pretty! You're beautiful! I love you!" Sigh...

  • My reflexes are quicker than I'd ever imagined possible.

  • It's already quite light outside by 5:30 in the morning.

  • Construction vehicles that communicate with one another and do jobs with no assistance from humans are normal.

  • Ditto the builder who consults with said construction vehicles in order to decide how jobs will get done.

  • Crayons work much better once they've been broken in two and their pointy ends have been mashed into oblivion.

  • It's okay to cry when your best friend goes home – even if he lives right downstairs.

  • Running around the house without any clothes on is fun. If you come to my house, don't forget to knock first...

An open letter to the head of the Histadrut

Dear Mr Eini,

First of all, I would like to say that I can, perhaps, understand why you feel the need to launch a public sector strike. It is indeed unfortunate that workers in the public sector are once again getting screwed by the government, and while these strikes drastically affect the daily lives of all citizens, I understand your frustration, not to mention your desire to show the powers-that-be and those who fall under your responsibility that you mean business, and that you must take serious action. I don't have a problem with working from home should the Israel Railways Authority join the strike, and on occasion, even enjoy pecking away at my computer while sitting on my porch.

I would, however, be terribly grateful if you could postpone the strike for about a week or so, in order to ensure that the arrival of my new Harry Potter book, which should be shipped on Saturday from the UK, is not delayed due to workers striking at the airport and the post office.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Best regards,

Liza

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Wahat al-Salam - Oasis of Peace

Neve Shalom ~ Wahat al-Salam (in English, Oasis of Peace) made headlines last year when former Pink Floyd frontman Roger Waters performed there. This unique cooperative village was founded jointly by Jewish and Arab Israelis in an attempt to show that the two peoples can live side by side peacefully, as well as to conduct educational work for peace, equality and understanding between the two peoples. The community was founded on land that was originally leased from the adjacent Latrun Monastery, mid-way between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, and there are currently more than 50 families living in Neve Shalom ~ Wahat al-Salam, with an equal number of Arabs and Jews. Many more families from both groups are on the waiting list to join this very special place.

Neve Shalom ~ Wahat al-Salam's school system was the first bilingual, bi-national Jewish-Palestinian educational facility in the country, and the Jewish and Palestinian teachers each speak exclusively in their own languages to all the students, creating an atmosphere that allows the students to explore their own identities as well as gain appreciation for another culture.





As you can see in the above video clip, the people of Neve Shalom ~ Wahat al-Salam – those who live there, those who work and volunteer there, and those who choose to benefit from the wide variety of services and resources provided – are committed to dialog and co-existence.


So, here's your chance to check out a four-time nominee for the Nobel Peace Prize up close and personal. If you're going to be in the area (and it's a beautiful region, so I highly recommend it – don't forget to pick up a few bottles of wine made onsite at the Latrun Monastery), pop in and say "shalom" or "salam" and I'm sure they'll be happy to have you.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

80s Music Video Sunday #30

As you've all figured out by now, I went to high school back in the 80s. I was your average, angst-ridden teenager, and while I was able to get along with virtually everyone, my utter lack of self-confidence (and for those of you who actually know me in person, if you think I'm lacking in self-confidence now, you should have seen me then...) and limited knowledge of all that was cool always left me feeling rather inept. In my freshman year, I was placed in the honors English class (which, incidentally, was the first and last honors course I ever took, but that is neither here or nor there). To say that we had the coolest teacher in the school would have been an understatement. At the time, she was probably the coolest person I'd ever come across, and like everyone else in my class, I was absolutely mesmerized by her persona. Ms. Peterson was the epitome of all that was awesome and hip. She was young and she was totally "with it", and I'm guessing it wouldn't be too far off the mark to assume that she set the hormones of most (if not all) of her male students raging, not to mention projected an aura that all of her female students were secretly dying to emulate.

Ms. Peterson was as innovative in her teaching as one would expect from a teacher with her personality. She did what she could in order to get us to think outside the box, to get us excited about learning. She introduced us to a whole slew of authors, and she had us read and analyze William Safire's newspaper columns on a regular basis. What do I remember the most, though? I remember the day she came in with her portable stereo (otherwise referred to back in the day as a "box", if memory serves me correctly), popped in a cassette, and introduced me to the music of the B-52's. That's right, folks. We analyzed the words of the song "Rock Lobster". Ms. Peterson's coolness rating positively skyrocketed that day. Their sound was like nothing I'd ever heard before, and suddenly, thanks to being in Ms. Peterson's English class, I felt cool by association.

Of course, "Rock Lobster" was released in 1978, and as such, it's ineligible for 80s Music Video Sunday. So, in honor of Ms. Peterson and that very special honors English class, today's featured video is the B-52s "Love Shack", released in 1989. I'm sure Ms. Peterson would approve.



Love Shack
B-52s

If you see a faded sign by the side of the road that says
15 miles to the... Love Shack! Love Shack yeah
I'm headin' down the Atlanta highway,
lookin' for the love getaway
Heading for the love getaway, love getaway,
I got me a car, it's as big as a whale
and we're headin' on down
To the Love Shack
I got me a Chrysler, it seats about 20
So hurry up and bring your jukebox money

The Love Shack is a little old place
where we can get together
Love Shack baby, Love Shack bay-bee.
Love baby, that's where it's at,
Ooo love baby, that's where it's at

Sign says.. Woo... stay away fools,
'cause love rules at the Lo-o-ove Shack!
Well it's set way back in the middle of a field,
Just a funky old shack and I gotta get back

Glitter on the mattress
Glitter on the highway
Glitter on the front porch
Glitter on the hallway

The Love Shack is a little old place
where we can get together
Love Shack bay-bee! Love Shack baby!
Love Shack, that's where it's at!
Huggin' and a kissin', dancin' and a lovin',
wearin' next to nothing
Cause it's hot as an oven
The whole shack shimmies!
The whole shack shimmies when everybody's
Movin' around and around and around and around!
Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby!
Folks linin' up outside just to get down
Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby
Funky little shack! Funk-y little shack!

Hop in my Chrysler,
it's as big as a whale
and it's about to set sail!
I got me a car, it seats about twenty
So c'mon and bring your jukebox money.

The Love Shack is a little old place
where we can get together
Love Shack baby! Love Shack bay-bee!
(Love Shack...Love Shack...)
Love Shack, that's where it's at!

Bang bang bang on the door baby!
Knock a little louder baby!
Bang bang bang on the door baby!
I can't hear you
Bang bang on the door baby
Bang bang on the door
Bang bang on the door baby
Bang bang
You're what?... Tin roof, rusted!

Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
Love baby, that's where it's at
Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
Love baby, that's where it's at
Huggin' and a kissin',
dancin' and a lovin' at the love shack

Saturday, July 14, 2007

We Didn't Call You Behemoths

As promised in this post, here is the translated version of the article I wrote for Nana last week. I've tried to maintain the structure and links used in the Hebrew version, and I've made only one change to the content, in order to include a mention of Lisa Goldman's recent trips to Beirut, which could not be included at the time when the original article was published (who says I can't keep a secret?!).

**********

A rather interesting article was published on Nana's Computers portal recently, whose title was "We are all Behemoths". The article purported to provide an overview of the English-language blogosphere in Israel, with one of the more salient points being that as English-language blogs, the bloggers who write them are, in essence offering a skewed view of Israelis and of life in Israel, given that these bloggers, by virtue of the fact that they are native English speakers, are not at all representative of the average Israeli.

The article's author, Dana Peer, (whose mother, incidentally, is American), opts to focus on the blogs of relatively new immigrants, including "What War Zone?", "Zabaj", and "Ari Lives in Israel". The highlighted posts all have one thing in common – experiences mostly revolving around encounters with native Israelis. Peer then goes on to belittle the bloggers of the Anglo-Israeli blogosphere for choosing to focus on these experiences, and claims that,

"the Israeli image in the global blogosphere is proffered almost solely from the viewpoint of immigrants and tourists - and it's possible to say a great deal about them, except for one thing - that they faithfully represent the image of the average Israeli. Forget representing - most of them don't understand it at all."
One of the issues that Peer addresses is the way that some of these new immigrants poke fun at the way that Israelis have incorporated various English words into the Hebrew language. Peer points out in an ongoing email exchange (which began after the article was published) that it is a "natural phenomenon that words from one language are assimilated into another language, and then adapted to meet the relevant rules of grammar." I am inclined to agree with that statement, though as one whose native language is the one from which these words often originate, I must admit that it does sound amusing at times to hear native Hebrew speakers use words in "English" while speaking Hebrew.

The amusement is not necessarily directed at the speaker, but rather at the concept. For the record, I am similarly amused when I hear Americans in the US say the word "chutzpah" with a totally American accent (or any other random word that has entered the English lexicon from another language) in their daily lives, lest you think it is limited to Americans making fun of Israelis.

The Internet Changes the Rules

One of the suggestions that Peer brought up in her email is that perhaps she should have included a disclaimer at the beginning of her article, noting that it was not intended to be a serious look at the Anglo-Israeli blogosphere, but rather a humorous take on a very specific aspect of this virtual society. Indeed, one of the greatest "pitfalls" facing writers today is that the internet has created a situation where one's words have the potential to go farther than ever before.

As such, the writer essentially loses all control over their own creation. Writers can no longer get by with excuses about intended audiences, and it is something that we as bloggers and journalists must take into consideration, accepting that our words may reach unintended audiences who can twist our thoughts to suit their own needs.

A prime example of this would be an incident that occurred last summer, when Norwegian author Jostein Gaarder published an article about Israel and the Jews in a Norwegian newspaper. The article was intended for Norwegian audiences only, and Garder was reportedly completely shocked by the worldwide condemnation he received after his article was translated into other languages and seen to be rather anti-Semitic, even though Garder claimed that this was not his intention, and that his words were taken out of context.

I also think, perhaps, that Peer did not take into account that there might be immigrants reading her article who would not see it as being a funny, cynical piece at all, but rather a personal attack on "those immigrants". In her email, Peer explains that she has taken care to focus on both sides of the issue – that of the immigrant and that of the native-born Israeli, and has tried to maintain a balance in her criticism of both groups. However, in the same way that comedians can openly mock their own group without anyone raising an eyebrow, but will often be criticized for mocking another group, it should come as no surprise that immigrants would have issues with being criticized by someone who is not "one of their own". An indication of this can be seen in the responses to Peer's original article, which, while obviously quite amusing for the native Hebrew speakers (whose comments reflected a rather alarming trend to bash immigrants who had chosen to make Israel their home, which makes me wonder whether some of them had taken the article as seriously as I had), seemed to lose something when the article crossed cultures.

On the one hand, Peer is accurate in her assessment that the new immigrant bloggers among us often focus on their unique immigrant experiences and encounters, which is certainly not an unusual phenomenon, and indeed, is entirely legitimate. Of course, perhaps we, as immigrant bloggers, must also take into account that just we have chosen to make Israel our home, we must be more accepting and open to the nuances of Israeli culture and the local lexicon. Peer mentions an incident in her email of an immigrant blogger poking fun at native Israelis for not being able to say "Massachusetts". Frankly though, until you can master any Hebrew word or name with the letter "resh" in it, you're really not in a position to make fun of "the natives" (unless, of course, you are trying to emulate MK Michael Eitan).

Putting a Human Face on "The Monster"

Humor aside, though, Peer does a disservice to her readers by limiting her article to these few blogs while ignoring the richness and variety of the Anglo-Israeli blogosphere as a whole, a heterogeneous group of writers whose blog postings cover an incredibly wide range of topics, whether it be politics, current events, local culture, family, and so on.

Our corner of the blogosphere includes both new and veteran immigrants, religious and secular bloggers. We have bloggers in the Territories and bloggers who live in Tel Aviv's trendy Sheinkin neighborhood. To say that we've had a few battles over Israeli political issues would be akin to calling last summer's war a minor border incident.

anglosaxy.jpgResidents of our virtual neighborhood include bloggers like Canadian-born Lisa Goldman, a journalist whose blog "On the Face" not only received worldwide attention during the war last summer (and whose clips that touch on her recent trips to Beirut can be found on Nana's news portal), but also won the Best Non-Muslim Blog award in a competition held in the Islamic blogosphere; British expatriate "Anglosaxy", a non-Jewish blogger who writes about his view of life in the Holy Land; Bert de Bruin, a Dutch-born blogger who posts at "Dutchblog Israel" in both English and Dutch, primarily about current events and political issues; "Chayyei Sarah", a blog written by an American freelance journalist and teacher living in Jerusalem; Australian expatriate artist Nominally Challenged writes over at "A Whiff of the Med". And these are only a few examples of what can be found out there.

defendingisrael.jpgThese Israel-based bloggers who write in languages other than Hebrew are the face of Israel for readers around the world. We are the writers who put a human face on the "monster" known as Israel, and do so on a daily basis. We are the writers who readers turned to during the Second Lebanon War last summer, when people the world over were anxious to dig up any shred of information they could find about the human side of the conflict.

It must be noted that the Hebrew-language blogosphere and the English-language blogosphere (not to mention the Russian and Arabic language blogospheres) serve very different purposes. While the Hebrew-language blogosphere is for domestic consumption, Israeli blogs written in English (or in other foreign languages) are often specifically targeted at the world outside of Israel. These bloggers see their natural role as being that of explaining Israel to the rest of the world.

Willingly and Not by Force

Judging by the article itself as well as the numerous talkbacks it received, Peer and her "Israeli" readers seem to think that these new immigrants, all of whom chose to live in Israel, are not allowed to be critical of their adopted country. A running theme throughout the comments was that if these Americans aren't happy in Israel, then they should just simply pack up and go home. If everyone who lived in Israel was asked to leave if they complained, chances are excellent that within a relatively short period of time, there'd be no one living here (except, perhaps for Ehud Olmert, who clearly lives in a world of his own where everything is good and everyone loves him...).

Western immigrants come to Israel because they want to, not because they have to. Israel is where they want to be, but that certainly doesn't mean that life is perfect here. I have been living here for sixteen years. My life is here, my family is here. Do I believe that daily life would be easier in the US? Yes. Do I believe there's a lot to complain about in Israel? Of course. Am I planning to leave? No.

Israel is my home, just as it is the home of all these new immigrants that people seem so keen to mock and send away.

Friday, July 13, 2007

War! What was it good for? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Life in Israel and Lebanon was irrevocably altered exactly one year ago. Illusions of calm were shattered and dreams lay torn, ripped apart by powers beyond our control. Physical recovery from the war has been difficult, harder in some places than in others. Emotional recovery has been equally fraught, as people attempt to gather the shards of broken lives and broken relationships, with some attempts being more successful than others.

A big deal is being made of this one-year anniversary in Israel. Special news reports abound (including several from intrepid fellow bloggers Lisa and Rinat, who are taking the Hebrew language news media by storm these days, following their recent trips to Beirut, as well as Rinat's harrowing journey into South Lebanon), and the Prime Minister toured the north yesterday, stopping along the way to make such unremarkable comments as, "I'm convinced as I was on July 12 last year that we took the right decision (by going to war) that this threat should once and for all be driven away from our border." Major Israeli websites replaced their main pages for five minutes yesterday morning with messages showing solidarity with the missing soldiers, and several local bloggers are also taking note.

Whether we want to or not, we cannot escape these images of the war last summer, and the big question on everybody's minds these days seems to be whether or not we'll have another one this summer, and indeed, it has been a popular survey question in the both the mainstream media and in the local blogosphere. I cannot help but remember how our world turned upside down, how the relative normality of our lives was blown apart. I remember the haunting sounds of the sirens signaling an incoming rocket (which fortunately, I didn't hear too frequently in my own area, as we were "only" in long-range missile range); I remember sitting on the train heading home in the evenings, wondering what would happen if the train were hit by one of these rockets, waiting to be picked up at the train station after hearing that a rocket had fallen in the vicinity. Rumors abounded as we all did what we could to find out where rockets had landed, and I remember how fascinating it was to observe how easily the collective national lexicon was transformed in order to include the words of our war; how every citizen became a military analyst.

To be sure, it was a frightening, tense time, and sadly, while I do not believe that we will have another war this summer, I'm rather inclined to believe that the regional situation is at least as bad as it was one year ago, and that important lessons have not yet been learned. Israeli society no longer believes or trusts its politicians to follow the right path, and Lebanon has not been this unstable since its civil war. Our soldiers are still missing, and we do not know whether they are alive or dead. Hizbullah is still entrenched in Southern Lebanon, and it is as though nothing has changed. Innocence is lost, replaced by cynicism and suspicion. There are no winners. We are all losers in this game, no matter which side of the border we live on.

And with that, I share with you the post that I wrote one year ago today - my first post about the war.

The Game of Life

“Due to the security situation, all trains heading north will terminate in Acco. No trains will travel to Nahariya under orders from the Israel Police. The Nahariya train station has been closed. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.”

Granted, this announcement doesn’t affect me, as I am traveling south to Tel Aviv. That is, it doesn’t directly affect me. In a greater sense, it affects all of us here in Israel, a sign the times, so to speak. The situation is spiraling out of control at a frightening pace, and I feel like I just don’t know what to do with myself right now. Yesterday it was a series of attacks on the Northern border that left seven Israeli soldiers dead and two kidnapped into Lebanon. This morning a katyusha rocket slammed into Nahariya, killing one woman in her home and injuring tens of other people. Katyushas also hit near Mt. Meron. Israel has retaliated by hitting the international airport in Beirut and Hezbollah’s television station. Who knows what will happen next. Life is suddenly worse than it was a few days ago, and my pacifist persona has been abruptly shunted aside as I decide that nothing would delight me more than to see that arrogant smirk wiped off the face of Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah, preferably by an IDF explosives expert.

I think of the bloggers across the Arab blogosphere who have afforded me the privilege of making their acquaintance, exchanging comments and emails as we work together to break down barriers, barriers put in place by those whose greatest fear is the discovery that we are all merely people and not the monsters they make us out to be. We may not always agree, but there is both a mutual respect and curiosity that we have chosen to embrace. Despite the actions of governments and organizations in our countries, we are trying hard to make our neighborhood a better place. Now, as I sit here on this train heading south, I can’t help but wonder, is it all for naught? It is so easy to forget the big picture as we focus on the relationships, the bridges being built. We share the same interests, the same tastes in food (who would have thought that sushi is so popular throughout the Middle East?), similar musical tastes. Thanks to these bloggers, I have learned about life in Jordan, in Lebanon, in Egypt, and so on. Never before have I been in a position to see a trip to Damascus as something normal, or to discover the excitement and beauty of Beirut.

Fantasy trips between Tel Aviv and Beirut have been planned (*and one year later, some have even fulfilled the fantasy), and we eagerly drink in each others’ words as we enjoy getting to know one another. It’s almost like a drug, and it’s so easy to become addicted, as we get sucked into a virtual world where disagreements still exist, yet borders are there to be traversed and not fortified. Then suddenly, reality comes crashing down as those with the real power make their presence felt through violence and destruction, and you wonder if your dreams of normalcy are only childish visions that will never come to pass. Are we being foolish? Is our bridge-building mere folly, a way to pass the time while allowing ourselves to think that we can somehow make a difference? I have no doubt that for the most part, we are all quite sincere in our quest, but while the perfect sunny skies of summer in the Middle East are tainted with falling rockets and fresh graves are dug in the cracked, brown earth, I cannot help but feel that we are all very small and insignificant as the Nasrallahs of the world show us who is really controlling the game of life.

* Added today.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

The Messenger Strikes Back

Tuesday afternoon, my officemate mentioned that she'd just read about a minor altercation in the Knesset, where one individual had struck another one. "Interesting", I thought. I had always wondered when our politicians would cross the line from verbal blows to physical ones, and clearly it had happened. My officemate wasn't sure which individuals had been involved, and I really didn't give much more thought to the matter. On Tuesday evening, as usual, I put on the news. Not really paying attention to what was being said, I looked up and saw an individual I'd worked with in the past being interviewed. Musing out loud to the Husband, I remarked, "Hey, I remember him from my time at the Justice Ministry. He was a really nice guy." As I'd tuned in during the middle of the interview, I didn't realize what they were talking about at that point.

Shortly thereafter, we changed channels to one of the other news shows, and there he was again. This time, though, I quickly learned why my former colleague was being interviewed on all the news shows. Apparently, he's the one who struck another person in the Knesset. To say that I was shocked would be putting it mildly. I'd worked in the Justice Ministry approximately ten years ago, and remembered only a few faces, with Attorney General Menachem Mazuz being one of them. Amnon De Hartog was another. I vaguely remember working on different tasks for him (I was responsible for all English-language-related tasks, including translations, editing various documents and speeches, letter writing and so on), chatting with him during lunch on occasion. Amnon was one of the good guys – pleasant and interesting to talk to, and easy to work with (which was not always the case in a government office filled with lawyers – no disrespect to any lawyers who might be reading this, of course...).

It seems that Amnon and his family have been hounded by politicians from the Haredi party United Torah Judaism (UTJ) for some time now. Amnon is responsible for government grants involving the Haredi sector. He doesn't set policy, but is responsible for carrying it out, which he does fairly and transparently. According to the law, independent school systems receive money from the budget only if they adhere to certain core curricular subjects. Apparently, the ultra-Orthodox school system was not teaching these core subjects, and as such, Amnon denied them budget funding. Needless to say, the politicians from UTJ were less than thrilled with the decision. One of them went so far as to tell Mr. De Hartog that he was "worse than the Nazis". Under even the most optimal circumstances, invoking Godwin's Law by telling someone that they are worse than the Nazis is hardly complementary. When a rabbi says it to another Jew, one who lost many members of his family in the Holocaust, well, one can understand why Mr. De Hartog might lose his temper. Not that I condone his use of violence, because I don't (and I imagine the De Hartog also regrets his actions as well – indeed, he has even apologized). I can, however, understand what drove him to it.

It is telling that not only does UTJ see themselves as being above the law, but that they are also prepared to fight dirty in order to maintain their status, harassing the man and his family whenever and wherever possible, simply because he was doing his job properly. It is shocking, though not surprising, that they are willing to do whatever they deem necessary to do so, whether it be slander, defamation of character, or going so far as to call someone a Nazi, a deed that is both offensive in its own right and acts to trivialize the Holocaust. In short, scandalous. Of course, the ease with and frequency at which this term is bandied about in Israeli society, whether it be against the police, members of the military, or politicians, is nothing short of frightening, but that is the topic for another post.

I will be following the story of Amnon de Hartog very closely, and hope that his career won't suffer too much as a result of his response to an atrocious provocation. Sadly, I fear that de Hartog will be the one to suffer here, while the politicians from United Torah Judaism (and the irony certainly isn't lost that these individuals who purport to be the defenders of torah, Judaism, and so on can be such "bad" Jews when it comes to their dealings with those who don't toe their line) will continue to provoke others and flout the rules, stomping on all who get in their way.

Israel battling corruption?

If the following news flash is true, then it's no wonder our region is in such bad shape...

09:19
World Bank: Israel first in Middle East in battling corruption (Haaretz)

Read the full story here.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

The Anglo-Israeli Blogosphere, part 2...

For those of you who read Hebrew (and especially for those of you who can read it AND understand it), the post that I wrote here has been edited, rewritten, and translated, and can now be found here on the Nana website. I'll put up the final English version soon...

Monday, July 09, 2007

New Blogger in Town

Guess who's finally gotten her act together and started writing a blog? Woohoo! It's about time that everybody's favorite insightful commenter has set up a place of her own. No matter who the blogger is, I've always been impressed by the well-thought-out, detailed comments she leaves, and by her ability to remain calm even in the heat of battle. Oh, and did I mention that she's become a friend as well? Not only is the lady intelligent, but she's obviously got impeccable tastes...

This is definitely a blog to keep your eye on, folks.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

In memory of little boys

When I was pregnant with our first son, at a time when I believed that we had cleared the hurdles of our previous pregnancies and had finally broken our curse of bad luck, a friend mentioned that sometimes, once that stage of pregnancy was reached, if I laughed or coughed, I might, well, to put it bluntly, leak a little. I filed that bit of information away for safe keeping, and soldiered on. One night, I woke with a horrible leg cramp, and while walking it off, I suddenly felt a great deal of liquid runnng down my legs. While racing to the bathroom, I silently chastised my friend, thinking that she had greatly under-exaggerated, and that what I'd just experienced was quite a bit more than a little leak. And then I realized that the "leak" hadn't stopped. We grabbed our pregnancy books, and it slowly dawned on me that what I was experiencing was a premature rupture of the membranes, a very premature rupture. We quickly drove to the hospital, where our worst fears were confirmed. My waters had broken in the 25th week of pregnancy, and so the nightmare began.

I suddenly found myself lying in a hospital bed, getting up only to go to the bathroom or to shower. I was lonely, miserable and frightened, and there was nothing I could do about any of it. All we could do was wait, knowing that the longer our baby stayed inside me, the greater his chances were for survival. Together, we managed to hold on for about a week, which is when I began having terrible stomach pains. These pains, of course, turned out to be contractions, and a few hours later, following an emergency c-section, our first son was born, weighing all of 700 grams. And all of this occurred nine years ago today.

The next six-and-a-half months were perhaps the most intensely draining I've ever experienced. The first four months were spent in a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). As many parents of premature babies will tell you, it was like being on an emotional rollercoaster, where some days went by without a hitch (which is considered a good day), and other days the situation took a turn for the worse, and you fear that all is lost. You can assess how serious your case is by the seniority of the staff member who explains things, and we were practically on a first-name basis with the director of the neonatal department. To this day, we are in touch with the staff members there, who are still a part of our extended family, and no one was more excited than they were when the Little One was born, just over three years ago. Anyway, after those initial four months we transferred to a children's hospital in the center of the country, and spent the next two-and-a-half months doing shifts, in order to ensure that at least one of us was there at all times. Some days we both stayed, just so that we could see one another for more than a few hours at a time. Once all surgeries were behind us and our baby seemed to be on the mend, we finally began to talk about taking him home, but then he got sick again, and he just couldn't fight anymore.

As I said, this all happened nine years ago. We have, for the most part, moved on with our lives, and we have been blessed with the Little One, whose mission seems to be to keep us on our toes at all times. The loss is always back there somewhere, but it doesn't rule my life; it doesn't define who I am. My life is the normal life of any sleep-deprived, caffeine-craving mother of a toddler – indeed, many of the people who entered my life after this period have no idea it even took place. It's always there somewhere, though, somewhere in the back of my head, waiting to surface as life dictates. It surfaced a few weeks ago with the sickness and death of that little boy, and obviously, it surfaced again now, on what would have been our child's ninth birthday.

On the day of the other little boy's funeral, I began to think about words that a bereaved mother might find comforting. I was on the train, coming home late at night, and the phrases started coming together in my mind. When I got home, I grabbed a pen and paper, and the words just tumbled out as I thought of two little boys whose lives were cut short. I've never really considered poetry to be one of my strengths, but this is what I wrote...

"Fragile little arms wrapped tightly 'round my neck. Through love and pain, laughter and tears, fragile little arms remain, wrapped tightly 'round my neck.

Time is playing games again and nothing stays the same, save fragile little arms wrapped tightly 'round my neck.

Worlds are spinning, moving, crashing; the grip is growing lighter. Pulling, tugging,
wrenching free, fragile little arms wrapped loosely 'round my neck.

The warmth around my neck is gone, replaced by shards of ice and stone. Checking once, checking twice, unbelieving, not accepting that fragile little arms are gone.

Fragile little arms float freely now, drifting through the skies, softly, slowly drifting, off to parts unknown. Gently oh so gently, fragile little arms are safe again, wrapped forever 'round my heart."

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Insulting our intelligence

It can often be said that the fragments of Israeli society come together in times of great joy or great sorrow. These days, Israelis are coming together in disbelief, utter disbelief over the plea bargain agreement presented to the public by Attorney General Menahem Mazuz. I'm not going to rehash the gory details (which can be found here), but I will mention some of the more salient bits. All charges involving rape have been dropped (indeed, all charges involving the central complainant known only as A have been dropped). Katzav will serve no jail time and will perform no community service, but he will pay compensation to his victims. Katzav also agreed to resign as president, which seems rather trivial at this point, given that there are less than two weeks left until Shimon Peres will be inaugurated as the new president. He is also supposed to admit in court to all charges appearing in the indictment, and Mazuz and others have threatened that should he fail to do so, the plea bargain will be thrown out. Until now, all Katzav has said is that he has agreed to accept the plea bargain for his family's sake, and that he admits to touching these women out of affection, which is rather pathetic and more than a little frightening.

When one looks at cases like that of Haim Ramon, Israel's former justice minister who was found guilty of sexual harassment and given a sentence of community service (and recently offered the position of vice-premier in Olmert's government), or Ofer Glazer, the husband of multimillionaire Shari Arison, who served time in jail for similar charges, it is an incomprehensible travesty of justice to watch as our former president is essentially being given a twitch of the pinky (as opposed to the harsher slap on the wrist) for far more serious crimes, with a blind eye having been turned to the most serious charges of all. Mazuz's claims that the charges listed in the plea bargain agreement are very grave and should not be taken lightly, not to mention his concern over not wanting to inflict even greater damage on the office of the president in the eyes of Israelis, wanting to spare us the pain and global humiliation of a trial, and so on are nothing more than outrageous attempts to insult the collective intelligence of our society.

As a civilized society, we must ask ourselves what kind of message this episode sends out, when an individual can assault and harass multiple women over a period of years, using his position of power to coerce and frighten in order to satisfy his own needs, and then getting off virtually scot-free while his victims continue to pay the price for his actions. What Mazuz chooses not to acknowledge is that in order for society to be able to heal from this ordeal, it is imperative that justice be served. To watch Katzav walk away from this saga does far greater damage to the Israeli psyche than any trial possibly could. A regular citizen would be made to pay for committing such heinous crimes. Instead, it is society who is paying. It is the victims who are paying, paying for their misfortune of having been assaulted or worse by a public figure instead of a nobody. This plea bargain sends out a message to sex crime victims that complaints will not necessarily be taken seriously, and that if a public figure is involved, better not to complain at all, better to deal with it quietly on your own. Just ask A.

And lest you think that only Katzav's victims are living a nightmare these days, think again. An acquaintance of mine was raped nearly a year ago. She's a strong, outgoing young woman, and you'd never have guessed by looking at her or spending time with her that she'd undergone such a traumatic experience. Until this week. Until I found her in the throes of a breakdown, and she told me what had happened to her all those months ago. She'd been doing fine, living life, dating and having fun. Hearing about the plea bargain sent her spiraling into her own private hell, and that's where I found her. Her therapist had even warned her that such a thing might happen, that the outcome might act as a trigger, bringing back a devastating event that she'd worked so hard to put behind her. And, if an expert in the field has enough experience to predict such a reaction, it is safe to say that my acquaintance is not the only victim to react in such a way.

It is simply unconscionable that our justice system enables a situation where the gravity of rape can be minimized, and that anyone in positions of power can essentially make a mockery of the most fundamental guidelines of what purports to be a civilized society, turning perpetrators into victims whose acts are easily excused and forgotten (as in the case of our new vice premier), while turning their victims into marginalized, troubled individuals who cannot be trusted to tell the truth.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

The Role of the Anglo-Israeli Blogosphere

A rather interesting article (entitled "We are All Behemoths") was published on Israel's Nana internet portal last Friday. The article, written in Hebrew, purported to provide an overview of the English-language blogosphere in Israel, with one of the more salient points being that as English-language blogs, the bloggers who write them are, in essence offering a skewed view of Israelis and life in Israel, given that these bloggers, by virtue of the fact that they are native English speakers, are not at all representative of the average Israeli.

The article's author, Dana Peer, opts to focus on a few select blog entries from the blogs of relatively new immigrants, including "What War Zone?", "Zabaj" (whose recent blog entry tipped me off about this article), and "Ari Lives in Israel" (a blog which, incidentally, hasn't been updated for quite some time, as the writer is probably too busy freelancing and working as a waiter at one of the hottest cafes in Tel Aviv). The highlighted posts all have one thing in common – each one relays a different immigrant experience, mostly revolving around encounters with native Israelis. Peer then goes on to belittle the bloggers of the Anglo-Israeli blogosphere for choosing to focus on these experiences, and claims that,

"the Israeli image in the global blogosphere is profferred almost solely
from the viewpoint of immigrants and tourists - and it's possible to say a great
deal about them, except for one thing - that they faithfully represent the image
of the average Israeli. Forget representing - most of them don't understand it
at all."

I'm also inclined to question her understanding of some of the posts she mocks, seeing as she seems to have taken Benji Lovitt's (What War Zone?) recent tongue-in-cheek post about the infamous Israeli beach game of "matkot" seriously...

On the one hand, Peer is accurate in her assessment that many of the new immigrant bloggers among us often focus on their unique immigrant experiences and encounters. Just as many of the Hebrew-language bloggers focus on their everyday experiences (an excellent example being this blog written by Amit, the divorced father of a son recently diagnosed with a form of autism), it is entirely legitimate for immigrant bloggers to do the same. However, Peer does a disservice to her readers by limiting her article to these few blogs while ignoring the richness and variety of the Anglo-Israeli blogosphere as a whole, a heterogeneous group of writers whose opinions (political and otherwise) and blog postings cover an incredibly wide range of topics, whether it be politics, current events, local culture, family, and so on.

And, whether Peer likes it or not, Israel-based bloggers who write in languages other than Hebrew, whether it be Dutch, French, Spanish, German, or any other language that I've come across while cruising the local blogosphere, are the face of Israel for readers around the world. We are the writers who put a human face on the "monster" known as Israel, we are the writers who readers turned to during the Second Lebanon War last summer, when people the world over were anxious to dig up any shred of information they could find about the human side of the conflict.

Peer apparently fails to understand that the Hebrew-language blogosphere and the Anglo-Israeli blogosphere serve very different purposes. While the Hebrew-language blogosphere is for domestic consumption, Israeli blogs written in English are often specifically targeted at the world outside of Israel, and these bloggers see their natural role as being that of explaining Israel to outsiders, whether they be Diaspora Jews or anyone else. And, judging by the article itself as well as the numerous talkbacks, Peer and her "Israeli" readers seem to think that these new immigrants, all of whom chose to live in Israel, are not allowed to be critical of their adopted country. A running theme throughout the comments was that if these Americans aren't happy in Israel, then they should just simply pack up and go home. If everyone who lived in Israel was asked to leave if they complained, chances are excellent that within a relatively short period of time, there'd be no one living here (except, perhaps for Ehud Olmert, who clearly lives in a world of his own where everything is good and everyone loves him...). Western immigrants come to Israel because they want to, not because they have to. Israel is where they want to be, but that certainly doesn't mean that life is perfect here. I have been living here for sixteen years. My life is here, my family is here. Do I believe that daily life would be easier in the US? Yes. Do I believe there's a lot to complain about in Israel? Of course. Am I planning to leave? No. Israel is my home, just as it is the home of all these new immigrants that Dana Peer and her ilk seem so keen to mock and send away.

*******************
By the way, after reading the article on Saturday, I sent an email to Dana Peer, outlining a number of the issues that I've mentioned here and asking for a response. I have yet to receive one, but I'll update accordingly if she chooses to comment.

*******************
Update: I've been contacted by Dana. She sent a response, which I'm currently in the process of translating. The extremely short version of what she wrote is that she realizes that the Anglo-Israeli blogosphere has a lot more variety than what she mentioned in her article, and that her piece was meant to be a humorous, tongue-in-cheek commentary, and not a piece to be taken too seriously.

I hope to have the full translation up in a few days.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

80s Music Video Sunday #29

I've always loved songs from the fifties. I know all the words to songs such as Bobby Darin's 1959 hit "Mack the Knife", Bill Haley's "Rock Around the Clock" (though admittedly, that's thanks to "Happy Days" more than anything else - but hey! Check out Dick Clark in this clip!), and "That'll Be the Day", by Buddy Holly and the Crickets. Who can forget "Come Go with Me" by the Del Vikings", or "Lollipop", by The Chordettes?

Slipped in among my "American Top 40" albums, once could always find a selection of oldies records, from Bobby Sherman to Buddy Holly, from fifties compilation albums to sixties compilation albums – I loved the oldies. To this day I can remember thinking that Mr. Reber had to be the coolest fourth grade teacher ever, because the kids in his class got to sing "Little Star" by The Elegants in their class play (couldn't find a video clip for this, but you can check out the tune here). I can't even remember my own fourth grade class play, which goes to show you how inspirational and memorable it was...

I loved the TV shows that depicted life in the fifties, like "Happy Days" and "Laverne and Shirley" (though admittedly less so once the ladies had moved from Milwaukee to Burbank). I love movies like "Grease" (and of course I know nearly all the words to all the songs). As a teenager, I loved reading books about young people growing up in the fifties (though sadly, the names and authors escape me now). What can I say? I was a big fan of anything from the fifties.

It should probably come as no surprise, then, that I love rockabilly music, one of the earliest styles of rock and roll to emerge in the fifties. And of course, one of the masters of this genre would have to be, without the doubt, the Stray Cats. They look like throwbacks to the fifties; they (mostly) sound like throwbacks to the fifties. They are, however, pure eighties. Loved 'em.



Rock this Town
Stray Cats

Well, my baby and me went out late Saturday night
I had my hair piled high and my baby just looked so right
Well, pick you up at ten, gotta have you home at two
Mama don't know what I got in store for you
But that's all right 'cause we're looking as cool as can be

Well, we found a little place that really didn't look half bad
I had a whiskey on the rocks and change of a dollar for the jukebox
Well, I put the quarter right into that can
But all they played was disco, man
Come on, baby, baby, let's get outta here right away

We're gonna rock this town
Rock it inside out
We're gonna rock this town
Make 'em scream and shout
Let's rock, rock, rock, man, rock
We're gonna rock till we pop
We're gonna rock till we drop
We're gonna rock this town
Rock it inside out

Well, we're having a ball just a boppin' on the big dance floor
Well, there's a real square cat, he looks a 1974
Well, he looked at me once, he looked at me twice
Look at me again and there's gonna be a fight
We're gonna rock this town
We're gonna rip this place apart

We're gonna rock this town
Rock it inside out
We're gonna rock this town
Make 'em scream and shout
Let's rock, rock, rock, man, rock
We're gonna rock till we pop
We're gonna rock till we drop
We're gonna rock this town
Rock this place apart

We're gonna rock this town
Rock it inside out
We're gonna rock this town
Make 'em scream and shout
Let's rock, rock, rock, man, rock
We're gonna rock till we pop
We're gonna rock till we drop
We're gonna rock this town
Rock it inside out
We're gonna rock this town
Rock it inside out
We're gonna rock this town
Rock it inside out

Whoo!