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They’re baaack. Again!  The Israeli national elections are upon us. Normally I wouldn’t write about this particular topic.  Besides trying to stay clear of politics, I also like to write about occurrences that are somewhat rare and unusual.  Israeli elections no longer fall into that category.  We are heading to the polls for the fifth time in a little over three-and-a-half years, putting Israel in first place in the world in terms of the frequency of elections.  This is a trophy we can do without.  And there is no guarantee that this election will help us break the political deadlock that has been afflicting us for the last few years.  But since elections have become so prevalent, I thought I would give you a taste of what goes on here.

The fact that Pilgrims and Puritans emigrated from England to the United States in the 1620s and 1630s and brought with them their previous traditions of Days of Fasting and Days of Thanksgiving is not particularly relevant to the lives of most Israelis.  Most Israelis, my children included, don’t even know what Pilgrims or Puritans are.  That’s not to say that we can’t enjoy a tasty cranberry kugel on Thanksgiving Shabbos, but I usually make that anyway. Many American olim continue to celebrate Thanksgiving in Israel.  In neighborhoods heavily populated with Americans, special orders can be placed for turkeys for those who want to celebrate the holiday with a proper Thanksgiving dinner. Volunteers organize a big Thanksgiving dinner for lone soldiers and lone b’not sherut (girls who do national service), who leave their families that live abroad and come to Israel on their own to serve the country. But other than that, Thanksgiving pretty much passes with little fanfare.  No marching bands, performers, giant balloons, or elaborate floats can be seen parading down Rechov Yaffo or Dizengoff.

In the year 1977, Mehdi* and Pari* and their three children were an 11^th-generation family living in Iran.  They were in the houseware wholesale/import business.  During the Shah’s regime, life was great for everyone, including the Jews.  But in the summer of 1977, as political instability and unrest started against the regime, the children of the family were sent to New York and later to Los Angeles, which hosts a large population of Iranian Jews, to attend university in the safe haven of the United States.  The Islamic revolution occurred in January 1979 when the Shah left the country. 

An unrecognizable phone number flashes up on my phone screen. That can mean only one thing and one thing only (usually): the Freezer Gemach. In 2017, I opened up a freezer gemach in memory of Rav Aryeh Kupinsky Hy”d, one of the five k’doshim who were murdered in the Har Nof massacre, also an uncle to my daughter-in-law. Rav Aryeh was a big and strong man, legendary for his constant involvement in chesed. When his almost 14-year-old daughter died tragically when she did not wake up one morning a little over two years before Rav Aryeh himself was murdered, he started a freezer gemach in her memory.

I’m always quick to mark my calendar with the date of the Jewish Women’s Writer’s Seminar (JWWS) in Yerushalayim as soon as it’s announced. The JWWS gives frum female writers a welcome opportunity to learn writing techniques from well-known and talented writers, meet with publishers, and fill themselves with inspiration, all in the company of their fellow writers. I have a warm feeling when I work at my computer while sipping from the swag mugs that I’ve received over the years. I look forward to this seminar all year long.

“As you exit the aircraft, please remember to take all your personal belongings.”  How many times have I heard those words from the stewardess after landing?  My husband and I like to get a lot of bang for our buck, so we often book flights with a stopover when we travel to the United States. It’s an efficient and affordable way to see the world. Our recent trip to New York had a 13-hour layover in London.  The rudimentary itinerary that my husband had prepared did not include major running around.  There would be no “This is beautiful or interesting or fun, but we must move ahead” calls, in order to cover as much ground as humanly possible during every last second available to us.  There would be no “Maybe we can run over to see the English countryside during the four extra minutes we have.”  We would have a relaxing, entertaining, and stress-free day.  Whatever we would manage to see would be perfect. And it was. Pretty much.