Tel Aviv Night Run 10 kilometers - I finished with an amazing time of 59:26 - a record run for me in a competition. This was 57th place out of 295 in my age category - but in that category, I was running against young men aged 60. Very hot in Tel Aviv! I enjoyed myself and am very satisfied with my result!
The past few months I have been volunteering once a week (when I can) - helping Israeli farmers in the south after their workers fled the country last October. Four times I picked avocados in an orchard near Ashkelon but this past visit was the last time. 50 workers from Sri Lanka were set to come to work in that orchard. I enjoyed picking avocados - and the avocado ice cream that came as a tasty result of my efforts!
Noir
fiction can be defined as crime fiction with dark themes, often featuring 'a
disturbing mixture of sex and violence'. The stories of West Jerusalem Noir
(Akashic Books, November 2023) are somewhat tamer; their protagonists are
confronted with the dark complexities of living in a city filled with national,
religious, and socioeconomic tension.
West
Jerusalem Noir of the Akashic Noir Series is published simultaneously
with East Jerusalem Noir, a companion collection that tells of the unfulfilled
hopes and dreams of Jerusalem's Arab residents, their lives vastly different
from those living in the western half of the city.
In West
Jerusalem Noir, the story 'You Can't See the Occupation from Here'
by Ilana Bernstein takes place on the Israeli side of the city. The protagonist
works in a secret lab on Hebrew University's Mount Scopus campus, where she's
filling in for a translator on maternity leave. Working in the lab 'involves
quite a few sacrifices,' she thinks. 'Those who come in here don't leave so
quickly'. A Palestinian woman, complete with a 'floral pink and cerulean hijab'
is reportedly the CEO of the company. But what about national security? the
protagonist wonders. Nothing is as it seems.
In
the story 'Arson,' by Ilan Rubin Fields, police investigate whether someone set
fire to the trees flanking the gardens of Peace Park, near Jerusalem's French
Hill neighborhood. In possibly the best story in the anthology,
'Chrysanthemums' by Asaf Schurr, a father takes it upon himself to cover up his
daughter Michal's crime. "You didn't kill anyone, you hear me?" he
admonishes her. "I'll take care of everything, understood?"
The
heroine of 'Murder at Sam Spiegel' by Liat Elkayam wakes up in a small room in
the famed film and television school to find a student filmmaker 'on a swivel
chair, his head hanging backward at a completely inhuman angle … a long river
of blood snaking from his stomach'. This launches the protagonist into
detective mode, but the investigation is more than she can handle.
In
Elkayam's story, an entry ramp to the Jerusalem Cinematheque is sprayed with
graffiti declaring 'Jerusalem – a city held together with masking tape'.
The stories of the collection are taped together by their Jerusalem setting. While
some readers may find the book disjointed, with unsatisfactory plots and
endings, many of the stories are memorable and will leave much to think about.
The
collection's editor, Maayan Eitan, says they take place in a 'concrete,
contemporary, and complicated Jerusalem'. She is correct in stating that the 15
stories included in West Jerusalem Noir 'could not have taken place
anywhere else'. Indeed, readers will have a 'chance to visit Jerusalem like
they've never seen it before'.
Originally posted on The Times of Israel.
Perfect weather for a run through the streets of Jerusalem and the alleyways
of the Old City. I last ran the Jerusalem Marathon's 10K race in 2019 and I was
excited to do it again. The course is challenging, with a number of steep
inclines, but I finished with a time of 1 hour and 6 minutes. This ranked me in
18th place out of 87 men in the 65-69 age category.
Amazingly, this was the exact same result as I had in the 2019 race, when I was in a younger age category. Overall, I finished the 10K in 3596th place out of 9,044 racers. I am very happy with my result!
Related articles:
I'm proud to announce that my short story "Boxes" was published yesterday in the Spring 2024 edition of Door Is A Jar Literary Magazine.
Door Is A Jar Literary
Magazine is a quarterly print and digital publication of poetry, short fiction,
nonfiction, drama, artwork and book reviews. Issue 30, Spring 2024, of the
magazine is now live.
The new issue features
the creative works of 44 contributors from all around the world.
Door Is A Jar Literary
Magazine can be found on the newsstand in Barnes & Noble, Books-A-Million,
and independent bookstores nationwide.
Copies of the magazine can be ordered directly from the website.
Business in the carpet department was slow; in
fact, it was non-existent. Ziv sat behind his desk from the moment the store
opened in the morning until it closed for the night, and looked out at the furniture
displays with little to distract him.
Occasionally, shoppers walked into Ziv’s
section of the floor and admired the classic handmade Persian carpets bearing
certificates of authenticity, or the multi-colored Boho-chic area rugs with
their handwoven geometric designs hanging from ceiling-high racks, but few expressed
real interest. For long hours, Ziv remained motionless and undisturbed. His
shift passed slowly, and he had to prevent himself from yawning and stay
presentable at all times.
“It’s minimum wage, but you’ll earn
substantial commissions,” the store manager had promised Ziv on his first day
of work, three months earlier. “Our carpets are of the highest quality and
sales will be good.”
But there were no sales. Ziv knew that the
imported carpets were over-priced and apparently the customers were aware of
this as well. Of all the departments in the store, Ziv’s was the least
successful, yet Management insisted it was to be manned full time. As long as
Ziv was available for shoppers, whenever they had questions to ask, and as long
as Ziv didn’t complain, he would keep his job, and for this he was grateful.
When he finished work, Ziv boarded the bus for
the journey to his small apartment in a quiet Ramat Gan neighborhood. He
climbed three flights of stairs and unlocked his door. Immediately Charlie, his
ginger-colored cat, rubbed against his legs, purring in eager anticipation of
leftovers from the night before. Ziv couldn’t afford canned or packaged cat
food, but Charlie didn’t seem to mind. Before feeding him, Ziv picked up the
animal with affection, but Charlie had a mean streak and scratched Ziv’s cheek,
drawing blood.
As Ziv stared into a mirror, holding a tissue
to the wound, he wondered where his life had gone off track. He had grown up in
a middle-class neighborhood with caring parents and three older siblings, but
he had lost touch with them after his army service. They refused to support him
when repeated failures in mathematics studies caused him to drop out of university.
“Get a hold on yourself,” his father said to him the last time Ziv had visited
home. “We love you, but it’s time for you to start your own life,” his mother
said.
He hadn’t seen them since.
When
the cat died, we said that would be the last of our pets. Forty years of cats,
and now it was time to start living. No responsibilities, no worries when out
of the house, when traveling. Yet my heart called out for more. A dog.
In
the past few months, my children sent me WhatsApp notices of puppies up for
adoption. My granddaughters nudged me over and over – "When are you
getting a dog? "Soon," I promised them. "Soon," I promised
myself.
"We'll
get a dog when the house renovations are finished," Jodie said to me. Three
months behind schedule, but at last the majority of the work has been
completed. It's time for a dog.
It's time for a dog
I
joined a number of Facebook groups. Dogs for Adoption. Dog Lovers – For Adoption
Only! Adopting Dogs Limited. Posts of available dogs were frequent, but, none
of them were suitable. Jodie and I had made a few decisions. No puppies—we wouldn't
be able to handle the training. We wouldn't pay for a dog. No pedigreed dogs.
No dogs from shelter that could be suffering from traumas in their past. And,
possibly most importantly for Jodie, the dog should not be a barker. In short,
we wanted to adopt a dog from a family.
The
first dog we interviewed for the position was a big, black, beautiful dog with
white spots—Panda—who belonged to the brother of the person in charge of Neve
Ilan's youth activities. Panda lived nearby. Panda was very friendly, jumping to
lick your face when you first met him. But Panda was strong. Very strong. When
we took him on a quick introductory walk, Jodie immediately realized she wouldn't
be able to handle him.
How is Max with children?
I
found a listing for Max on Yad2, the popular site where people sell, buy, give away,
and search for everything from apartments for sale or rent, cars, furniture,
and apparently, animals.
I called the phone listed with Max and a young male voice answered the phone. I asked a number of questions. "Does the dog bark?" "How is the dog with strangers?" "How is the dog with other dogs?" "With cats?" "How is the dog with children?"
"He's
very good with children," the person said. "I'm a child."
"How
old are you?" I asked.
"Fifteen."
That
wasn't what I meant when I asked about children. Would the dog get along with
my granddaughters? Would he be a good match for my four-year-old granddaughter?
Max
was born and spent his puppyhood in Karnei Shomron. From there, two teenage
boys traveled on a bus for 90 minutes with Max to their yeshiva in Jerusalem.
The yeshiva informed the boys that they had 2 days to get rid of the dog. The
boys were rushed to give Max away.
We
planned to go to Jerusalem to meet Max on Friday morning at 11:00, with no
commitment to take him. But then, the meeting with Panda was set up, so I
informed the boys that we were considering other options, that we wouldn't be
coming into Jerusalem after all. A few minutes later I received an SMS.
"So, are you coming to Jerusalem?"
When
the possibility of adopting Panda didn't work out, I sent another message to
the boys asking them if we could still come. They happily agreed.
We immediately feel in love with him
We
met Max in one of the boy's homes in the Bayit Vegan neighborhood. It was a
religious household—their table was already set for Shabbat dinner at ten in
the morning. Max was a little hesitant about approaching us, but he seemed like a
friendly, healthy dog. We took him for an introductory walk and Jodie confirmed
that she was strong enough to handle Max's strength. So, we took Max home with
us.
To say
that our family, especially our granddaughters, were excited about meeting Max,
was the understatement of the year. They immediately fell in love with him, as
did I. As did Jodie.
Max
is beautiful. Friendly. He gets along with children. He likes other dogs (but not
all male dogs like him). He has a healthy appetite. He is healthy, vaccinated,
and has an identifying microchip embedded under his skin. He likes to take
walks. He will soon be neutered. And, he also has a mind of his own.
"Max!" we call out. He races on.
Friday night dinner. Our entire family is enjoying our meal in Merav's new apartment above ours. Max stands to the side, sniffing at the good smells coming from the table. "No table scraps for you! Sit, Max!" And he obeys. Mostly.
The
front door is left open a few seconds more than it should, and Max dashes out. He
bounds down the steep steps and into the street. He runs into unknown
territory. Maybe he's heading for his Jerusalem yeshiva? Or for his previous
home in Karnei Shomron?
We all race after him. Reut and Gali run in one direction and then Erez and I spot Max up the street. He's fast! And, it's
starting to rain. Max dashes into a garden. And the rain picks up. It's dark
and we don't see Max. It's suddenly a downpour, and we are soaked to the core.
We reach the street and follow Max into a four-inch-deep puddle.
"Max!" we call out. He races on.
At
last, Max turns into a fenced garden and I am able to slip on his leash. We
head back to the house, where the entire family is waiting.
Max
is back. Max is with his new family. Max is wonderful. Max is now part of our
lives. And, we'll make sure to keep the front door closed for now.
(Two
days after this story was written, Max escaped again. We really need to keep
the door closed!)
# #
#
These
questions and more are raised in Bulgaria, the Jews, and the Holocaust:
On the Origins of a Heroic Narrative by Nadège Ragaru, translated by Victoria
Baena and David A. Rich (University of Rochester Press, October 2023). Originally
published in French in 2020, this book is an exhaustive archival investigation into
how the survival of Bulgarian Jewry emerged as the primary narrative of
Bulgaria's Holocaust years, while the deportations and deaths of Macedonian,
Serbian, and Greek Jews were blamed solely on Nazi Germany.
As
recently as January 2023, 80 years after those deportations and murders, the
Bulgarian Ministry of Culture issued a statement praising 'the significant role
of the Bulgarian state, its institutions, the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, and
the Bulgarian people for this unprecedented act in Europe in one of the darkest
years of our continent, when the Bulgarian people and state demonstrated
tolerance, empathy, but also will and courage to save their Jewish fellow
citizens.'
Yes,
the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, many brave politicians, and the Bulgarian people
in general can claim credit for saving Bulgarian Jews, but, as the author
points out, the Bulgarian state and its institutions were directly responsible
for policing the occupied territories, for rounding up the Jews living there,
and for sending them to their deaths in the concentration camps.
To
prove this argument, the author presents an eclectic mix of rarely considered
evidence. She first explores the Bulgarian People's Courts, set up following
the war's end to prosecute representatives of the pro-Nazi governing elite responsible
for anti-Jewish persecutions. Then the author turns to the Cold War partnership
of Bulgaria and East Germany within the framework of a film coproduction.
The
author next considers just 'a few minutes of documentary footage that contains
the only recorded images of Jewish deportation from the occupied territories.'
These images play into the story promoted by the Bulgarian socialist regime in
the 1960s and 1970s, which glorified the rescue of the Bulgarian Jews. The
following chapter focuses on the 1990s and the changing memory of the Holocaust
in the post-Communist period. In a chapter devoted to the years between 2000
and 2010, the author explores the 'Jews' engagement in memory politics, and
their contribution to greater awareness of how timely a discussion of
Bulgaria's co-responsibility in Jewish persecution in the 'new' and 'old'
kingdoms may be.'
This
is not easy reading, and to be clear, this is not a history of Bulgaria during
World War Two. Bulgaria, the Jews, and the Holocaust uniquely presents
the Jewish wartime experience with a consideration of the political, legal,
historical, artistic and memorial aspects from the changing decades of post-war
Bulgaria. Ultimately, as noted by the publisher, the author 'restores Jewish
voices to the story of their own wartime suffering'.
The
book, exhaustive in depth and scope, annotated with sources in multiple
languages showing the meticulousness of the author's research, will appeal
primarily to historians interested in the varied archival materials presented
on its pages.
Dr.
Nadège Ragaru is a Research Professor at the Centres d'études
internationales (CERI), in Paris, France.
Bulgaria,
the Jews, and the Holocaust: On the Origins of a Heroic Narrative is
available in Open access.
Originally posted on The Times of Israel.
