It’s two steps forward and one step back. That’s the way Barbara has been viewing our progress – or lack thereof – towards acquiring and fixing up THE apartment for occupancy by the agreed upon date of Dec. 3 (2024). I see things differently – because that’s what I do. Here’s how I described what was going on to my brother over the telephone.
Uncategorized
The bee’s knees and similar matters
It wasn’t what I expected from a highly regarded international wine guy, now living with his American wife in New Jersey. Out of the blue, there he was on Facebook, presenting his thoughts about the American elections – as opposed to his preferences in Pinot Noir or Malbec. He was not, he wrote, trying to influence anyone’s vote. He was just suggesting that those who do cast a ballot should ‘set aside your personal opinions about the candidates’ personalities and character, and consider their records.’ And, ‘Once you’ve done your homework, evaluate whose policies align better with your values and beliefs, and make an informed decision about who to vote for.’ Fair enough; not too much to quarrel with there. Then I noticed a comment below from his adoring, all-knowing other half, which for the moment put a stop to any further pontification. ‘Ok but u should become a citizen …’ (Bata-boom.)
The Dreaded ‘M’ Word — Part 16
Let’s begin this segment with something fairly innocuous, a retelling of a typical conversation between a mother and an adult daughter, going something along these lines:
Mother (a/k/a Barbara) What are your plans for the week?
Daughter (a/k/a Natania) I have a whole bunch of experiments to do, and then there’s all the follow-up I need to get done….
Father (a/k/a Fred, butting in) At least you don’t have to worry about the hagim. Everyone else will also be off Thurs, and Fri., not just you. So whatever you don’t get done…
Daughter I need to remind Oded (her boss) to let our Indian student know it’s Rosh Hashana and not to show up…
As I keep announcing to anyone in earshot, that’s one of the beauties of living in The Land. More often than not, you can actually focus on what’s important, what these holidays are about, without the noise, without the baggage of trying to fit them into the rest of your life, or what everyone around you is involved in – as is usually the case anywhere in the Exile. However, that only works here in The Land if you’re not up to your eyeballs in matters of such consequence that they can’t be put off, that force you to obsess over them and take over a good part of your life. Otherwise, you might as well be in Des Moines or some such. (Well, not really!) One such matter of consequence is known as the “Dreaded ‘M’ Word,” which is why it should be avoided if at all humanly possible.
The Dreaded ‘M’ Word — Part 15
I just thought of a really good explanation; the fact that I could have used it fifteen years ago when it was relevant doesn’t make it any less entertaining. We were at the time in our second year renting an apartment, and the thought of a year three in said apartment brought no joy to our hearts. Then we got a call from a real estate agent we knew. He had two apartments to show us that were for sale, one with three bedrooms and the other the five-bedroom apartment we’re in now and will sadly be leaving sooner than I’d like to think. He questioned why we were interested in the bigger place, as the only occupants would be three of us (plus Mimi, our one cat at the time). Barbara explained that I had a lot of stuff and therefore needed more room than your typical family. A more inventive answer would have been that we had only two bears to work with instead of the normal three!
The Dreaded ‘M’ Word — Part 14
To all of you who told me I would never amount to anything because I’m always procrastinating: Just you wait! I didn’t think of this pithy remark myself. I noticed it on a T-shirt being offered on Facebook, and I thought it would be a perfect lead-in to my article.
The Dreaded ‘M’ Word — Part 13
Our first attempt at ‘Let’s Pretend’ went so well, that I’m encouraged to give it another go. So let’s do it. Your significant other is hell-bent on taking an ocean voyage, something that doesn’t float your boat – if I may use that expression. You’d rather remain where you are, enjoying the comfort and security of terra firma. But of course S.O. is going to prevail; you know it; S.O. knows it; anyone who’s paying attention knows it. You grudgingly agree to the premise – as long as certain conditions are met, so you won’t be too put upon. You sign up for a cruise that meets both of your needs, and to save some money, you sign an agreement to let another family stay in your apartment while you’re gone. So far, so good.
Don’t Step in It — A Cautionary Tale
Unlike some other exchange of views (see below), this one was the kind of discussion that could take place even at the breakfast table, not needing the sense of acuity it would have had at a late-night pontification session when you’re trying to be profound but it’s past your bedtime, nor the sense of giddiness it might have had at a kiddush over an overload of assorted beverages. It would never have turned into an argument, since neither disputant felt the sense of certainty that turns a difference of opinion into an all-out war of words. It started out as an after thought about something that had happened the day before.
The Official Book of Excuses
How about we begin with a little game of ‘Let’s Pretend.’ You’re walking in Gettysburg National Park (which is in Pennsylvania, for the non-Americans reading this), and you stumble on the name tag of George Wilson, a Confederate soldier who must have been killed on the battlefield during the Civil War. It’s been raining a lot, which is probably why this item has come to the surface after all these years. You put it in your backpack and walk away. About an hour later, the thought occurs to you, can I keep it; is it worth anything? You do the requisite Google search and learn that there are folks out there hunting for these relics in Civil War sites, usually using metal detectors. (You just got lucky!) Yes, what you found might be worth something to a collector, and, most importantly, the name tag is yours to keep and do with it as you like. No one from the Parks Department, the State of Pennsylvania, the U.S. government, the Daughters of the Confederacy, or direct descendants of the fallen soldier will come knocking on your door in the middle of the night, demanding you hand over your treasure.
Which Includes Me…
A diversion from the usual matters at hand…
Supposing you were in a gathering of strangers, and each person in the group was asked to take a few minutes and say something about themselves, what salient points would you mention when it was your turn? Some people tend to get flustered when they have to speak in public, but that sort of thing is easy-peasy for me. I’d mention my family and some of the things I’ve done in my life, but somewhere along the line, I would describe myself as an ‘American Jew living in Israel.’
The Dreaded ‘M’ Word — Part 12
One thing I have done from time to time in these articles is make the assertion that my mind works in strange and mysterious ways, making connections that would not be obvious to the average dude or dudette walking along Broadway or Rehov Yaffo. For example, I’m taking out the garbage and my progress towards the dumpster is impeded by a car with a ‘lamed’ on its roof, meaning that the person behind the wheel is a student driver. Even if the car weren’t so identified, you could tell right away who is behind the wheel, not just from the tentative, slow motion of the vehicle in question, but the look of panic on the neophyte’s face as the car goes around the bend. And I think about Alexis de Tocqueville, the French aristocrat who visited the United States in the 1830’s to observe life across the Atlantic and to figure out what was going on with these Americans – as in how did they live and why were they so different from Europeans – and then to write about what he learned in his classic Democracy in America. We need someone like him these days to help us decipher the behavior patterns of average Israelis, which is so different from life in The States, not an easy task – if you ask me. My modest efforts are a halting step in that direction, but I’m not in the Frenchman’s league.
alittlebiteast 