Sunday, July 23, 2006

The Bloody Truth is that Israel’s War is Our War

Every morning I run to my computer and check my news alerts online. This morning I scanned down my Google Alerts, Israel, and found an article with the above title, written by Michael Portillo, in today’s Sunday Times. (,,2088-2281508,00.html)

What do you know? Finally an article out of Britain that is fair. I always thought that BBC stood for Britain Backs Cairo!

For the past week I have been reading and hearing how we have to be careful of Lebanese civilians. Well, of course we do.

But who has said a word about Israeli civilians? Nobody. How come we don’t count? How come we have to be the conscience of the world? How come Jewish blood is cheap?

Yesterday I turned on my computer at eight in the morning…and all of a sudden I realized it was ten at night. Somehow between listening to one news broadcast and waiting for the next, the day had slipped by.

The army called up another 5,000 milluimnikim…reservists. Just before Shabbat came in I phoned my oldest. He’s religious and I had five minutes before he turned off all his phones for the weekend.

‘Hi honey, how are you?’
‘Fine, Imma, Shabbat shalom.’
‘Shabbat shalom to you too. What’s new?’
‘Ok, just wanted to wish you a gutt shabbess. Kiss the babies for me.’
‘You too.’
‘Maybe I’ll come tomorrow after Shabbat, will you be home?’
‘Yah, that’s a great idea. Okay Imma, I’ve got to run.’
‘Shabbat shalom. I love you.’

What I really wanted to say was, “Hey are you all right? Did you hear from the army? Do you have to go?”

But how could I do that? So my son and I pretended that we were asking about Shabbat when we both knew what the conversation really was all about.

Besides being scary, this war is costly. I realized that last night as I watched fire fighters putting out two blazing cars that had been hit by katyushas up north. All that water! We, in Israel, are very conscious of wasting water and as I looked at those two hoses and watched the water disappear into the parched ground I understood that we would be paying the price of survival for a very long time.

And we will survive. And we will prevail. And the sooner the rest of the world openly admits that our war is everyone’s war, the better.

My good friend John has a wonderful blog and if you have a minute, I think it will be worth your while to read what he has to say and get to know him.
An unflinching view...
...from a place called Israel

Have a good day…stay safe…and thanks for dropping in.


At 11:08 PM, Anonymous the guv said...

My daughter is 40 years old, my son, almost 38, and, without any strain at all, I can remember every separation anxiety attack that I've had over the years. Attacks that were brought on by events that should NOT have been traumatic for me... like when they started school, or when they went off to sleep-over camp, or when they vacationed in far-away ( and some, not so far-away ) places without their parents. And then there were times that WERE traumatic and I had full license to be angst-filled... like when they had to be hospitalized, and when they moved away from home for good. Ah, even the MEMORY of all those separation episodes brings tears to my eyes, and a deep thudding to my heart.

My daughter and her daughter ( who is now the exact age her mother was when she moved to Israel years ago ) live in England. My son lives in Toronto just 3 and a half hours down the road. They are successful, self-reliant, responsible, self-sufficient, healthy adults . Naturally, I don't get to see my British offspring as often as I do my son. But, now, here's my confession: after all this time, to this day, whenever I have to say good-bye, it doesn't matter if they are crossing " the big pond" in a plane, or tooting down the highway in a Honda Civic, I am suffused with that familiar "I-swear-I'm-losing-my-right-arm-left-leg-and-one-lung" feeling. Irrational ? Sure. A tad sick? Perhaps. But friends of mine, with offspring of like age and circumstance, swear that they feel the same way. And, I'm almost certain that my 93 year old mother, who lives in Toronto, feels the same way each time her 64 year old baby leaves to return to Windsor.

And then there are all the mothers all over the world who watch their children go off to war. The thought of it brings tears to my eyes, and a deep thumping to my heart.

The Guv

At 1:35 AM, Anonymous ess said...

Just catching up on your blog Mar..Hoping that you and your family are kept safe until this war ends


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