Difference between revisions of "Blog/July 2009/Jul 31st"
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Hi again! | Hi again! | ||
| − | + | RETURN OF THE DONKEY: | |
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| − | + | We were minding our own business last shabbat, just sitting at home reading; when all of a sudden we hear a loud banging at our back door. Not sure whether that was actually someone knocking on the door or not, we waited a minute. Then we started hearing a loud banging on the front door, accompanied by the doorbell ringing. By now you probably know we don't use the doorbell on shabbat -- and neither would anyone we know, except if there were an emergency. So on the off chance there was an emergency of some kind, I look out the peephole of my front door -- to see an Arab youth in a T-shirt, banging on my door. | |
| + | |||
| + | Needless to say, I don't know many Arab youths, and I certainly didn't know this one. So I yell out to him, "Who are you?". He answered, "''bedouwi, bedouwi, mishtara''!" (Bedouin, Bedouin, police!). Not being sure if he were trying to say he was a Bedouin policeman, or that he was running from the police, or what -- I told him to go away. He said, "''beHiyat dinak!''" (oh, come on!), to which I replied "leave me alone!". And he left. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Daniela came down the stairs, and said the guy had a stick of some kind in his hand. So we were trying to figure out what exactly was going on, and whether we should call the police or not (after all, nobody was hurt -- but the outcome could be different for someone else). In the end, we decided to call the security detail for the city after shabbat was over, since there was no more "excitement". I went over to my neighbor and asked if this guy knocked on their door, but it appears we were the only people he tried to "visit". | ||
| + | |||
| + | Anyway, after shabbat I called the city and told them what happened. They said, "is this about the donkey?", to which I replied, "no, that was last week". | ||
| + | |||
| + | BACKGROUND: Two weeks ago we heard a donkey braying in the neighborhood, and our neighbor (the one I just mentioned) found it in her backyard (which is actually a common area shared by all of us). She called the city, they took the donkey away, end of story. Back to the main story ... | ||
| + | |||
| + | So the security person said, "No, today someone reported an Arab looking for his donkey". And then I understood - the guy was frantic because his donkey had gone missing (but I wonder, who parks a donkey in someone else's backyard for two weeks?). Our neighbor was the one who caused this guy a near stroke. The Bedouin banged on my back door, because he came from the common area (what he mistakenly assumed was a donkey parking-lot) and descended the stairs which lead to our house -- and the back door is the first one he came to. If he had only mentioned the word "donkey" (which is basically the same in Arabic and Hebrew), I would have made the connection and maybe been able to help him out. As they say, "only in Israel!" | ||
| + | |||
| + | Grampa Victor is here -- he arrived the day before the fast of Tisha Be'av; so he didn't get a very exciting welcoming meal. But we'll try to make amends today, with the upcoming shabbat. He's already been blessed by being able to experience hot (!) Israeli summertime (in the desert, no less). Next week we are going to all go to the wedding of his friend's granddaughter (I think it is), whom I have never met. The week after, we're going to my cousin's wedding. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Sarah landed a job helping new immigrants learn Hebrew. Even though it's only a two-week job, it's good experience and will give her a little spending money. Daniela is going to be returning to the States very soon, which makes me sad. My dream of retiring early and bumming off my children is still looking pretty unrealistic. | ||
| + | |||
| + | We just observed the fast of Tisha Be'av -- which commemorates, among other things, the destruction of both the first and second Temples in Jerusalem. Our Sages tell us the second Temple was destroyed because of ''sin'at Hinam'', usually translated as "baseless hatred" (but see my friend Fred's [http://alittlebiteast.blogspot.com/2009/07/harvest-has-passed.html excellent article] on this topic). In any case, just in time for this national day of mourning: [http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?cid=1248277915988&pagename=JPost%2FJPArticle%2FShowFull baseless hatred, Tel Aviv style]. Not that this is really unexpected, but it should be. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Today (on the secular calendar; Tu Be'av on our calendar) is the two-year anniversary of our return home to our Land. We came on the same plane as our aforementioned friend Fred and his family. Like all major life changes, there have been ups and downs -- but at least in my opinion, mostly ups. Except for "Mister Zol", that is. That's a supermarket here whose name ironically means "Mister Cheap" -- and has been the recent target of an email discussion on the Anglo chat group for Maale Adummim. As far as I can see, nobody likes the place. But one fellow's opinion seemed just a bit extreme. I quote: "I've always said that I hope that when I die, it'll be when I'm shopping in Mr. Zol. That way, even if they send me to hell, it'll be an improvement...". Wow! I think living in the Land helps you express yourself in a more... forceful ... manner than you might otherwise have been used to. Just a tad. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Signing off for today, need to finish preparing for shabbat. | ||
Until next week,<br> | Until next week,<br> | ||
Latest revision as of 17:43, 31 July 2009
July 31st (See this week's devar torah)
Send Ron feedback on this blog
Hi again!
RETURN OF THE DONKEY:
We were minding our own business last shabbat, just sitting at home reading; when all of a sudden we hear a loud banging at our back door. Not sure whether that was actually someone knocking on the door or not, we waited a minute. Then we started hearing a loud banging on the front door, accompanied by the doorbell ringing. By now you probably know we don't use the doorbell on shabbat -- and neither would anyone we know, except if there were an emergency. So on the off chance there was an emergency of some kind, I look out the peephole of my front door -- to see an Arab youth in a T-shirt, banging on my door.
Needless to say, I don't know many Arab youths, and I certainly didn't know this one. So I yell out to him, "Who are you?". He answered, "bedouwi, bedouwi, mishtara!" (Bedouin, Bedouin, police!). Not being sure if he were trying to say he was a Bedouin policeman, or that he was running from the police, or what -- I told him to go away. He said, "beHiyat dinak!" (oh, come on!), to which I replied "leave me alone!". And he left.
Daniela came down the stairs, and said the guy had a stick of some kind in his hand. So we were trying to figure out what exactly was going on, and whether we should call the police or not (after all, nobody was hurt -- but the outcome could be different for someone else). In the end, we decided to call the security detail for the city after shabbat was over, since there was no more "excitement". I went over to my neighbor and asked if this guy knocked on their door, but it appears we were the only people he tried to "visit".
Anyway, after shabbat I called the city and told them what happened. They said, "is this about the donkey?", to which I replied, "no, that was last week".
BACKGROUND: Two weeks ago we heard a donkey braying in the neighborhood, and our neighbor (the one I just mentioned) found it in her backyard (which is actually a common area shared by all of us). She called the city, they took the donkey away, end of story. Back to the main story ...
So the security person said, "No, today someone reported an Arab looking for his donkey". And then I understood - the guy was frantic because his donkey had gone missing (but I wonder, who parks a donkey in someone else's backyard for two weeks?). Our neighbor was the one who caused this guy a near stroke. The Bedouin banged on my back door, because he came from the common area (what he mistakenly assumed was a donkey parking-lot) and descended the stairs which lead to our house -- and the back door is the first one he came to. If he had only mentioned the word "donkey" (which is basically the same in Arabic and Hebrew), I would have made the connection and maybe been able to help him out. As they say, "only in Israel!"
Grampa Victor is here -- he arrived the day before the fast of Tisha Be'av; so he didn't get a very exciting welcoming meal. But we'll try to make amends today, with the upcoming shabbat. He's already been blessed by being able to experience hot (!) Israeli summertime (in the desert, no less). Next week we are going to all go to the wedding of his friend's granddaughter (I think it is), whom I have never met. The week after, we're going to my cousin's wedding.
Sarah landed a job helping new immigrants learn Hebrew. Even though it's only a two-week job, it's good experience and will give her a little spending money. Daniela is going to be returning to the States very soon, which makes me sad. My dream of retiring early and bumming off my children is still looking pretty unrealistic.
We just observed the fast of Tisha Be'av -- which commemorates, among other things, the destruction of both the first and second Temples in Jerusalem. Our Sages tell us the second Temple was destroyed because of sin'at Hinam, usually translated as "baseless hatred" (but see my friend Fred's excellent article on this topic). In any case, just in time for this national day of mourning: baseless hatred, Tel Aviv style. Not that this is really unexpected, but it should be.
Today (on the secular calendar; Tu Be'av on our calendar) is the two-year anniversary of our return home to our Land. We came on the same plane as our aforementioned friend Fred and his family. Like all major life changes, there have been ups and downs -- but at least in my opinion, mostly ups. Except for "Mister Zol", that is. That's a supermarket here whose name ironically means "Mister Cheap" -- and has been the recent target of an email discussion on the Anglo chat group for Maale Adummim. As far as I can see, nobody likes the place. But one fellow's opinion seemed just a bit extreme. I quote: "I've always said that I hope that when I die, it'll be when I'm shopping in Mr. Zol. That way, even if they send me to hell, it'll be an improvement...". Wow! I think living in the Land helps you express yourself in a more... forceful ... manner than you might otherwise have been used to. Just a tad.
Signing off for today, need to finish preparing for shabbat.
Until next week,
Shabbat shalom!
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