In today’s lexicon of compulsions, phobias, and obsessions, one stands out front and center. It’s FOMO, the acronym for Fear of Missing Out. One subset of this disorder, or an adjunct to it, is the need to stay glued to one’s TV or other device, absorbed in the endless repeating of the same information about some major event, more often than not a catastrophe, for hours and days on end. Think ‘9/11,’ the Gulf Wars, or some such, and how many of us were glued to the Tube when these events were going on, hoping that every hour or two we might be told something we hadn’t heard before, but continuing to watch even if there was nothing new to report. I’ve decided that, this time around, in the middle of the 2023 war against Hamas, I would not get sucked into this mind-numbing but passive kind of activity. I would attempt to remain as calm as humanly possible, not giving in to fear, anxiety, or anger, remaining focused and informed, and would try to figure out what, in my limited capacity, I could do to be ‘useful, not just ornamental’ (Something my parents used to say.)

That’s what most people here in The Land, those not in uniform ready to do battle, have been thinking: What can I/we do? Some organizations were prepared to help. The protest organizations, with months of experience in organizing, quickly mobilized a massive relief effort. Groups of anti-reform reservists were figuring out the size of vests to send to the troops who would need them. Treif restaurants have kashered their kitchens so they can feed the troops. The newly formed Jerusalem Command Center has so many volunteers that they have to work in shifts because there’s not enough room for all of them at once. Hareidi men are tying tzitzit on soldiers’ uniforms, as there seems to be an unprecedented demand. (There are no atheists in a foxhole, someone once said.)

What keeps me feeling good about the world are the amazing stories of how lone Israelis have fought off the enemy and won. I love the story about the woman who kept a bunch of terrorists out of her safe room, using a Dyson vacuum cleaner and a rolling pin to barricade the door. Rachel Edri served tea and cookies to a bunch Hamas soldiers who had invaded her home until a rescue team arrived. But the story that ‘everyone’ is talking about concerns Noam Tibon, a retired major-general who spent his IDF career specializing in counterterrorism. When he got the message from his son, journalist Amir Tibon, that their kibbutz was being overrun by terrorists, he texted back, ‘Trust me, I will come. This is my profession. No one can stop me.’ And no one did.

He put on his uniform, loaded his pistol, and he and his wife got in their car and drove south from Tel Aviv. After a series of adventures worthy of note in and of themselves, he and another senior retired general, Israel Ziv, along with a few soldiers, liberated the kibbutz. (A link to a fuller report is here.)

Please understand, this kind of heroism is more than I can do. I don’t have a gun, I don’t have a uniform, I don’t even have a car. (Allo, Ani tzarich munit. MeHakeren 3. Lekibbutz Nachal Oz. Ma? I’efshar. OK. [I need to order a cab. From Hakeren 3. Where to? Kibbutz Nachal Oz. Near Sderot. What? You can’t do it? OK.])

Perhaps I should be looking at something a little less flamboyant, with a little less derring-do. Davening with a little more fervor; a little more generosity with our small donations. That’s more my speed. What else? Much of the collecting, packing, and distributing was going on around us without our even knowing about it. But last week, we did see something we could do in the comfort of our home. The A.A.C.I was involved in an effort to provide Shabbat hospitality both for Ashkelon families with ‘special needs’ children and for seniors, all of whom have been spending serious time in bomb shelters.

It’s a long trip from Ashkelon to here. We have lots of steps to climb. We have three cats. Only one of us has passable Hebrew. But we have PLENTY of room. So we said YES. Then we got a message: it doesn’t make sense to relocate them for a long weekend. How about four days? So we said YES. Then we got another message: Serious logistical problems: Not this week; we’ll get back to you. The latest is that the project has been scratched. Well, we tried.

Then we heard on the Ma’ale Adumim Anglo Facebook Group of a coordinated drive to collect towels, headlights, first aid kits, deodorant, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, black coffee, protein bars, preserves, and crackers for the soldiers and games and craft materials for evacuated families, and to bring said stuff on Mon. Oct.16 to the lobby of Dekel Vilnai High School. And so, Barbara and I discussed what to do. One of our friends, based upon her experience as the mother of a former tank driver, opined that the troops get most of what they need from the IDF, so don’t worry. (My words, not hers). That’s not the impression that my wife and I have. But, as Barbara suggested, maybe we should just continue to make donations to organizations that know specifically what and how much is needed. There is something to that. If people are just bringing random stuff, you could wind up with 200 deodorant sticks and one tube of toothpaste. I had a different slant on things. (What a surprise!) It’s like the guy who has just written a check for $10,000 to the shul for whatever. He should still put a buck in the pushke if he’s there for a weekday minyan. It was as certain as day following night that we would soon find another appeal in our emails for us to respond to. But I wanted the first-hand experience of purchasing something and handing it to somebody. This is for the chayelim. After some back-and-forthing, we agreed to purchase a supply of protein bars and first-aid kits, items soldiers can take with them when they’re on the move.

We were going to the mall anyway; just one more thing to do. Our first stop would be at Maccabi, our health care clinic, not because we have to see a doctor.  Instead, make an appointment for me to get an ultrasound; deal with the paperwork for Barbara’s appointments to deal with the cataract in her other eye. We won’t have the COVID vaccines until next week, but we have the flu shots. You can get that now. We also have something new, a vaccine against pneumonia. Which reminded Barbara that we still need to get the latest up-to-the-minute vaccine against shingles. Lois told me that one of her friends got it, and it was very painful. We can take care of that right now, assuming the nurses aren’t too busy. Go outside to the little pharmacy they have there, purchase two doses of shingrix, and bring them to the nurses’ station. We’ll have to go back another day to get the flu, COVID, and pneumonia shots, but something is often better than nothing.

It seemed that we were there FOREVER,. But it was only an hour or so to get everything sorted out. (And Barbara is not convinced that we still have all the forms she needs.) By that time, we were both a little peckish. Let’s head down to Aroma and get a bite before we go to Supersol. (You know the mantra: never go food shopping on an empty stomach.) Usually Aroma is mobbed around lunchtime. But all around the mall, we could see the effects of the war. Fewer customers, fewer workers, and some stores closed; at Aroma lots of item not available and everything served as if for takeout.  (My sandwich came wrapped in a napkin.) Of course, even on their best day, their coffee is lackluster. As we have intimated, this was not their best day. (Brandon, can you fax me an Iced Latte with oat milk?)

The shelves at the supermarket were properly stocked, thanks to the efforts of a lot of volunteers – including one of the candidates in the now postponed mayoral elections. (Atta boy, Shlomi.) We did our shopping, remembering to include several packs of protein bars in our cart. We had noticed near the entrance to the store a table labeled, ‘For the chayalim,’ so we wouldn’t even have to make the trip to the high school. Up to Superpharm for the first aid kits, and we’re done. We had no idea where to find the kits in this mega-pharmacy, so we went to the back where they fill prescriptions and prepared to ask. No need. The young man ahead of us had beat us to it. He had scooped up their entire stock, placing them in a large bag, and handing the cashier his credit card. We’ll need to move a lot quicker if we want to get credit for being good mitzvah-niks. Oh well, there’s always next week. And there’s always another episode to come. As, always, stay tuned.