Table of Contents

1. Naomi - novella length - entered August 13 to 22, 2006
An Israeli Reservist goes on two star-crossed tours of duty.

2. Lily - book length - entered July 4 to August 12, 2006
The scandal wasn't really Lily's fault, but still everyone is laughing at her. Just when it fades, physical handicap arrives, causing drastic changes.

3. Sarah - novella - June 2 to 27, 2006
Among the Haredi (ultraOrthodox), few are the women who end up in the Israeli Defence Force. Join one of them on adventures in an elite unit.

4. Nuremberg Tour - book - March 6 to May 13, 2006
The narrator is first plunged into a mega-scandal; then into a lottery style army draft.

5. Seema - short story - February 6 to 8, 2006
The narrator struggles, forever in the shadow of others.

6. Vydia - short story - January 23 to 25, 2006
Arrival of an Afghan refugee family throws the life of a schoolgirl into chaos.

7. Baseball - novella - January 3 to 11, 2006
The life of a baseball player hangs in the balance, is saved. The price? A lot higher than most would care to pay.

8. Romance Novella - December 12 to 16, 2005
Just imagine the two individuals least likely to ever grace the pages of a Harlequin.

9. Field Commision - book - October 11 to November 15, 2005
A poor white and her Afghan friend experience misadventures during a tour of duty in Germany; then a week of total war.

10. Lucky - novella - July 2 to 7, 2005
Time Corps adventures of a Guyanese and her Afghan friend.

11. First Mission - short story - June 20 to 23, 2005
A navigation error leads to being stranded in time; it then goes downhill from there.

12. Futuristic Infantry - book - May 26 to June 18, 2005
Major Zohra Zamani is an infantry battalion commander 500 years in the future. Join her for three Ulster tours. Between tours, experience her difficult way of life.

13. Alien - book - January 8 to 24, 2005
A space alien is exiled to Earth, taking over the body of an Afghan-Canadian woman in a state of clinically dead. The two sides of the personality, Afghan and Alien, then duke it out for dominance.

14. Green Lake - novella - December 2 to 11, 2004
An Afghan-American US Air Force officer 1,000 years in the futre leads a derring-do mission.

15. Time Corps - book - October 27 to November 22, 2004
A woman of today is thrust 10,000 years into the future, joins a shadowy organization.

16. Romance - short story - October 13 to 16, 2004
Double romance, set aboard a space ship.

17. Jamila - novella - October 1 to 9, 2004
A total outcast decides to end it all. Two surprise visitors, one an Afghan, change that.

18. Dark Chronicles of Nooria - book - August 30 to September 29, 2004
A ten year old girl is plunged into a chilling nightmare, a surreal Dantesque horror.

19. Iris - short story - August 26 to 28, 2004
An Irishwoman joins a contingent of Afghans.

20. Farzana - novella - August 11 to 25, 2004
A ten year old white Canadian girl freezes to death in a savage blizzard; gets a second chance at life as an Afghan.

21. Soap (Opera) - book - July 26 to August 10, 2004
An assortment of eccentric foreigners joins an Afghan contingent.

22. Vignettes - short short stories - mostly under 1,500 words, - mostly published July 25, 2004 and prior.

Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Certain historical events did occur, similar to descriptions here, but not with the characters named herein.
Profanity - stars **** used.
Violence - the minimal amount which is needed to support the story line.
Sex - adult relationships alluded to, some pickup activity, no scenes of direct sex.
This blog is neither for nor against any political organization, religion or ethnic group. The goal is cultural, entertainment, while keeping all stories suitable for children.

Naomi 9

Capt Nachman rises and a hush falls over the assembled company. "There is a sport called ice hockey. Hands up all who have heard of it."
All the men, half the secular women, none of the Haredi women.
"This game is played on a large sheet of ice, is practical and popular only in cold countries. Big in Canada, northern USA and northern Europe. Hands up all who have read of the company Hockey Haven in the business section."
Less than half the men, two secular women, no Haredim.
"Hockey Haven's market is Canada and USA. It does not produce uniforms for the actual teams, but has the license to manufacture team logo jerseys for sale to fans, who wear them to games. Where Israel comes into this, Hockey Haven has bought a vacant warehouse in Ramallah, will obtain legal title in less than a month.
"This is one of those deals that benefits all parties. Canadians get low labor costs; Palestinians, jobs; Israel benefits overall from this prosperity. After all, if they're working and earning, they're less likely to revolt. Now into this picture comes the wild card. Hands up all who have heard of the Peoples Anti-Sweatshop Alliance."
Not one hand.
"Now PASA is known only to Intel, has yet to hit the papers. Word is they have some two dozen militants and are brand new. Which could mean anything. Could be talkers who like causing disruption or could be looking to get on the map with a big action.
"PASA is threatening to blow up this warehouse. That's where we come in, we guard it until the Canadians get legal title. At that time, they will hire security guards from the PA (Palestinian Authority). Any questions?"
A male Cpl rises, "Cap, why always us for empty buildings?"
"I turn that question around, ask you one. If we do the job right, some 250 families in Ramallah have cause to thank us, not that they will of course."
Laughter.
"Cpl, think of it, does not Palestinian prosperity contribute to Israel's overall security?"
"Certainly Cap."
A Haredi woman rises, "Capt, with all due respect to your rank. There are many poor Jews, why not locate in a Jewish area?"
"It's been tried, twice, failed both times. ABC Garments and Leisure Style both moved on after they were unable to get staff."
"I would suggest to you Capt, they never tried a Haredi area, strong work ethic."
"All I can reply to that, Israel has no authority to tell a company where to locate, that is their decision to make. Perhaps they were looking at cheaper real estate in Ramallah."
Another Haredi rises, "I suggest we all look at the bright side. Of all the places we could be in Ramallah, surely this is best. At least on this, Palestinians are not our enemy."
A male Cpl rises, "I one up that statement. Since Palestinian jobs are on the line, likely they will tip us off if they learn anything."
As we file out, my new friend Tzipi says very quietly, "Naomi, I didn't want to discourage people, but your Capt has it backwards."
"How so?"
"Almost all these sewing workers will be women, right?"
"Ye-es," by now, I know where she is headed.
"Palestinian men will be most happy to see the women at work, take the earnings away and buy more AK-47's."
I groan inwardly, knowing she's right.
"So they really should have chosen a Haredi area after all."
I nod, pointless to deny the obvious, then grin, "and that is to say nothing of all the bribes to the PA."
On our way to the transport convoy, I'm accosted by a woman showing press ID for Haaretz, "so Lt, how does it feel to make history? To be the first to lead a female Haredi unit into battle?"
"We'd prefer that there is no need for battle; however, we're ready."
"How ready are you?"
"This is the highest average range score of any platoon I've ever been involved in. Everything Haredim do, they do their best."
"Lt, would you care to confirm or deny that the Trotskyite Splinter Group is coming after you?"
"Last I heard, they were going after the Knesset. Why waste their time on a peasant like me?"
We both laugh.
"But you did not confirm or deny my statement Lt."
"Quite so."
We arrive in Ramallah to find a royal screw up. Building is no longer vacant, Canadian techies are moving in equipment. PA security guards are on hand. The foreman informs us our dates are wrong, the Canadians already have legal title.
We check with HQ, who discover their error. We wait around for alternate orders.
Since they have nothing else to do, we are ordered to go back in the hills, do target practise for a week.
The Haredim are already quite good, because their training is fresh. They boost scores considerably. The rest of us, mostly rusty, get better.
And then we get to go home early. It proves a fun summer. Tzipi lives a kilometer away. We visit back and forth, loan books.
And that is wonderful. To make one new friend, makes the whole stupid debacle worth while.

Naomi 8

Esther and I are summoned to a Friday meeting at the Induction Center. She stands, facing 25 Haredi women, "I'll introduce Lt Wolner, your platoon commander. I'll be back in a while, Lt Wolner if you please."
I paint on a hopeful smile, while repressing the urge to choke her to death.
They all look at me, curious.
"Let's be honest about what you're getting into. Yes, equipment is rundown in the Reserves. In plain Hebrew, means trailers are so tacky that you couldn't sell them used, not even for 500 shekels."
They actually laugh, a good sign.
"The bright side, you have your own set of trailers, meaning you don't have to lodge with seculars."
By the expressions, I've already scored points.
"I realize you have higher standards of kosher than the rest of us. Still, best to keep it orderly. If everyone talks with the cooks, be a waste of time and cause tension. You don't have to do it today, but I'll ask you to take a vote. One among you who will communicate with the cooks."
Nods, they clearly see the sense of that.
"By now, you're afraid of running into secular men. That should not be a problem. First, the Captain and I will lay down the law, they must behave. There's another pressure which will surface too. Any of these guys get outa line, make advances, the women will be outraged."
Questioning looks.
"They want the guys for themselves, get quite jealous."
Nods, looks of comprehension.
"I can't promise what assignment we get, that varies a lot. Pure logic would suggest it's not something tense like Gaza or West Bank. Besides yourselves, who have only basic, we have two other issues. One, shortage of numbers. Two, higher average age than a lot of units. Questions, go ahead."
One stands, matter of fact tone, "I say we give the Lt an honest chance. First person we've seen in the whole IDF who either understands anything or makes an effort to do so."
Nods.
She continues, "it wouldn't hurt to pray for a sane assignment. And that includes you Lt, unless you're an atheist."
"No, I'm Reform, I'll pray too."
Another asks, "Lt, you seem very familiar, are you famous in any way?"
"I wouldn't put it that way."
"Now I've got it - your husband - the racing scandal."
"That's ex-husband and that stuff happened after the divorce."
"Still, is not divorce sinful? Be honest now, why the divorce?"
I wipe an eye, "physical abuse plus addictions, plural."
"Look, I'm sorry, that's a valid reason. Even some of us have divorced over that."
Another, "and what do you do in real life?"
"I instruct first years in Literature."
"I see, and some of these students are less than happy to be in your class?"
I laugh, "accurate statement."
Broad smile, "well, you've got one friend already. You and Tzipi can share notes on that. Come on Tzipi, don't be shy. A real person, not like most seculars."
So far, so good. Maybe it'll be ok.

Naomi 7

Eagerly I tear open the envelope from the reforestation service, wondering why is it addressed to Lt Wolner? I am informed in no uncertain terms that I am ineligible, since my promotion. Now who on earth would have done something that stupid?
The phone rings, Lt Nachman, "so Naomi, how are things going?"
"Usual, Esther, one student outa three stays awake in class. Rest are only there because first year Lit is compulsory. Still, can't complain, most are polite enough not to snore."
She laughs, "so, heard the news about His Nibs?"
"I'm the last to hear anything."
"He's been hiding a serious med condition from them for years, that anxious to keep that summer getaway. Doctors caught up to him, turfed him from the Reserves."
"Poor old guy!"
"Which makes me Capt and you Lt. So, think we should push for West Bank or Gaza, like Meyer wanted?"
"I'd suggest not, Captain, already too many people dodge the tour. Wanna go with just you and me?"
Wicked laugh, "don't get me wrong, I wasn't considering it, just wanted your honest opinion."
"So how's staffing, Esther?"
"Lousy, in extremis. Goldstein, gone, med. Meyer, dead. You, promoted. Karen, exempt. We now have no experienced Sgt's left. Meaning G-d help us if we get a nasty assignment."
"So what brainwave made me Lt?"
Easy laugh, "that'd be me, Naomi. Look at it from my side, who else could I trust?"
I groan aloud.
She continues, "and while we're on the topic of bad news, we hafta take 20 Haredi women."
I groan louder, "do you have any idea how nuts that'll drive the cooks?"
"I hear you. It comes from on high, where the insanity never ceases. So, read Hamodia and Bakehila from time to time."
"Jawohl Kapitan."
She laughs.
Curious, I walk to the newsstand. The vendor, who knows me vaguely, raises an eyebrow at my purchase of Hamodia and Bakehila.
"For a foreigner," I mutter, "Americans are that curious about everything. Staying with my brother."
He looks relieved, wondering if there had been something wrong with me.
After an hour of reading, I'm pondering joining the French Foreign Legion, or at very least entering the green card lottery. Haredim are so nuts it defies belief.
After tea, I pick up Hamodia again. A well-know rabbi asserts he has secret info, conveyed to him by a not-to-be-named party.
The IDF will be shaking the trees in Development G, trying to find 20 women. He urges all citizens to resist, by refusing to fill out any forms.
Well now, maybe things won't be so bad after all. With any luck, none of them will show.

Naomi 6

Our staff room is stark, functional. For each of the four of us, a small metal desk, hard chair and four drawer file cabinet. Not enclosed in cubicles, along the wall. An interior door leads to Prof Cohen's 8 foot by 10 foot domain. A few battered easy chairs, where we had our meeting, and the ubiquitous coffee pot. One terminal, shared by all five.
After last class, I'm usually there an hour or so, plug away while traffic dies down. As I enter today, I catch Avraham in the act, "ah ha, third time I caught you reading sci fi. Told me you hated it."
With a slight blush, "some things creep up on you. This is Heinlein, of centuries ago. Cohen considers him the greatest of all time."
"Is he?"
"Don't know yet, but I'm on my third book of his. So far, so good."
Prof Cohen enters, "how are you enjoying the book?"
"Great, now I see why you like this guy. US Navy officer prior to writing, so any fleet stories ring true."
Prof smiles at me, "care to borrow one, Naomi? High Holy Days coming up, always depressing."
"Which would you suggest?"
He goes into his office, brings out "Starship Troopers". "Like most Israelis, you are more oriented to army than navy."
"Thank you so much, I'll give it a try."
Prof goes into his office, Avraham grimaces, "don't you just hate the holidays? At least once, have to show up, endure the so-called 'perfect family' of relatives."
"Consider yourself lucky, at least your ex kept her stupidity outa the headlines."
"It's like an annual rite. Some people hate and fear the dentist visit; others, doctor; others, the annual Reserve call up. But everyone less than 100% successful hates the holidays, right?"
I nod, pointless to debate the obvious.
He continues, "the difference between what you are and what you 'should' be, that is measured in guilt. The guilt season is upon us."
I tuck the book in my bag. Why not? My experience is the worst of books beats the best of newspapers.
I decline to bore you with my ordeal by fire and ice with brother, sister-in-law and children. Suffice it to say, dinner comes with a heaping side serving of guilt.
If you're Jewish, you understand. Even you Christians, it isn't that hard to visualize. Just imagine Christmas dinner where you are the 'black sheep' of the family.
Prof Cohen was right, the book was great.
Given my salary, at 1 1/2 times the legal minimum wage, coffee houses are social events, not daily indulgences.
Karen's news is bombshell. Engaged, he has one child, adorable age, was given custody. She shows me photos.
Further, this is her exemption from Reserves, as she is now let off due to child care.
As she talks, part of me is happy for her. The other part is more bitten. I don't ever make new friends, keep on losing old.
For days after, I feel grunged out. But then I think of Heinlein. All his heroes and heroines were can-do people. Regardless of difficult situation, they chugged along.
So I've become a sci fi fan like Cohen and Avraham, must be getting old.

Naomi 5

My phone rings, it's Ariel from work, "ah Naomi, I know we're on vacation for a few days more, but it's serious. Can you make a meeting today at two?"
We're seated, coffee poured. Ariel starts uneasily, "we're all equals here, no chairperson, one item on the agenda, Professor Cohen."
Moshe gives a wicked laugh, "as we were all away, pretending to be Reservists, our fearless leader, age exempt, got into trouble."
I ask, "how so?"
They all laugh.
Moshe continues, "that's right, I'd forgotten, you aren't into newspapers. He committed unspeakable acts down at the Bus Station, held til bail hearing."
I ask, "what sort of acts and when is the hearing?"
Avraham blushes, "let's just say the first question is not suitable for mixed company. A week after term starts is the hearing."
I ask, "what odds he gets out?"
Moshe grins, "actually pretty good. He is 72, partially suffering from Alzheimer's. That'll be taken into account."
"But then," I protest, "surely he will be forced into retirement, moral turpitude and all that."
Dry tone, Avraham says, "with pay scales here, compared to elsewhere, they would not care if he were a convicted ax murderer of his own mother, guarded by a prison guard as he delivers the lecture."
Everyone laughs.
Ariel puts on a serious expression, "two eventualities, either a week of absence or a whole term. If it's a week, no big deal. If all term, start by thinking his work divides into four approximately equal parts. Paperwork, all those stupid forms to keep the jackasses over in Admin from getting into convulsions."
We all laugh.
"Then his three classes, Chaucer, American Science Fiction and Hebrew Sci Fi," draws a breath, "any takers for Admin work?"
No replies.
Ariel sighs, rolls his eyes, "I could handle the paper then, have helped out my uncle in his accounting firm some."
Moshe grimaces, "my English is poor, leaves me stuck with Hebrew Sci Fi."
Avraham turns to me, "any preferences, Naomi?"
I grin wanly, "any Sci Fi, of any nationality, is Count Dreckula. Ditto for Chaucer. I'd equally hate either. Be my guest, you choose."
Avraham laughs easily, "I feel exactly the same. Leave it to Fate, flip a coin."
It comes up heads, meaning I get Chaucer.
We ransack Prof Cohen's office, seeking notes. It's easier than we thought. Every course, is laid out word for word, with stage directions in brackets.
"Good morning, class," I start cheerfully, "I will be the replacement for a while. First thing we must know about Chaucer is his day and age had no package deals, no safe tourist enclaves. Travel was undertaken in groups, for safety against highwaymen. You must understand, religious pilgrimages were the only game in town. If you had sufficient health and funds to travel, they were your only option."
I pause, let it sink in, "and that is the critical difference. A religious pilgrim nowadays is, by definition, a true believer. In those days, it would be a mix of strong believers and ordinary tourists. I ask you to keep this thought in mind when you are tempted to be too judgmental towards those pilgrims."
Looks of comprehension.
It is with great joy that I see Prof Cohen return. The judge threw out the charge, lousy writeup.
He smiles gently, "Naomi, did you be sure to emphasize the concept of cultural difference in the first lecture?"
"Oh yes, they understood."
"Good, thank you so much for covering."
He is a gentleman, takes us all to a nice dinner as a thank you for the coverup.
As I wait I check the news on my cell.
Agricultural workers are on strike, following a foreman addressing one as a "fruit". He maintains he said "fruitcake", but a nearby sound killed the second syllable.
In order to stave off bankruptcy, a yeshiva has launched a porn site.
The American Foreign Minister again committed a foot-in-mouth. When asked about US policy on the West Bank, he stated the US government endorses almost any leveraged buyout in the banking sector.
"Are you Sgt Wolner?" a middle-aged woman asks.
"Please, informality, call me Naomi."
"I'm Mrs Meyer, Ruth, I suppose you are wondering why I asked to see you."
"Not really," I reply easily, "knowing IDF stonewall tactics, I'd guess you are unsatisfied with the explanation they gave."
"Look Naomi," over earnest tone, "all they confided was the fact he was delivering documents in the jeep. No lead as to how it got started. But how does one tell four children that Daddy died because he was stupid enough to berate Haredim carrying stones?"
"Ruth best to tell the children one by one, there are things you could not tell the younger."
"I imagine it was the John charge, got him riled. But not that much, twice a year he had fines over stupidness. He'd have laughed that off. What else happened?"
I groan inwardly, but she seems genuine in her desire to know. "That evening he and a female Cpl hit it off, went for drinks. On returning, they caught in flagrantis a young man who had been posting threat notices. He and the Cpl beat the lad up, a yeshiva student."
"Excellent, keep going, I can manage to hear it all."
"Now this yeshiva student would not go to the police of course, he was guilty too. But he did get revenge. Next evening, as your husband and the Cpl left for drinks, they were accosted by a crowd of students, pelted with smelly objects. Very next morning, was when he over-reacted to the Haredim."
She sighs, "I really thank you for being honest. It would be so much nicer if I could tell the children he died heroically. But if I lie, years later they'll find out, hate me."
As she goes, I admire her courage.

Naomi 4

Sgt Meyer starts an altercation with Cpl Zilber in the mess. Blames her, her topless dance got him all horny.
She pulls his hand, draws him away, "sillllly boy, why didn't you just ask?"
Finally Sgt Meyer proves useful for something. He and Zilber have gone for drinks, return late, discover another note being left. Turns out it matches the original handwriting.
Meyer and Zilber haul the offender, a yeshiva student, behind a building and beat the stuffing outa him.
This proves quite exciting for them, as their antics after keep half the camp awake.
Next morning, Meyer drops by the office, "so, never guess who the culprit was."
"Rumor is a yeshiva student."
"Not just any yeshiva student, one of mine."
I groan inwardly, anticipating police. But then, probably not, the kid is guilty too.
The student gets his revenge. That evening, as Meyer and Zilber go for drinks, they are pelted by unnamed objects of bad odor, thrown by three score of yeshiva students.
The whole camp thinks this is a huge joke.
As Meyer signs out the jeep next morning, I see his expression. Trouble, he'll get in some today. I have visions of him flipping the bird at a General.
He proves remarkably more stupid than that.
Every now and again, the Haredi community undertakes to put the fear of G-d into those cybercafe owners who misguidedly defy their ban.
They don't worry about what any secular person should choose to watch or surf. But you are not allowed to rent computers by the hour to a Haredi. (To any of you foreigners, they are easy to spot, distinctive clothing and hair.)
The Haredim (plural) take the Biblical concept of stoning seriously.
And so it is some four score of them are joyfully flinging stones at the cybercafe. They are creating little damage, as walls are concrete block and no windows.
Into this scene of happy Biblical reenactment, arrives Meyer. Talk about insanity - he proceeded to berate Haredim.
The stones change direction.
It is at lunchtime that we hear back from Magen David Adom, the ambulance service, count on not having your Sgt back for rest of tour.
Upon hearing this news, Zilber peels off her top and bra, redoes the table dance, again to loud applause.
As she sits, I ask what that was all about.
Cheerful laugh, "you know how men are. They come and they go. Always gotta advertise."
It is so flippant, so offhand, I roar with laughter, til hiccups come.
Once back in my office, sobriety returns, time for evaluation.
Should I end up Sgt/Maj, it means riding herd on wild men like Meyer, of whom the unit has too many.
Should Meyer get the nod, means orangutang behavior becomes the unit norm.
Either way, this is my swan song, ain't returning next summer.
Our jeep is returned, with a few more dents. There was no glass left to break, Palestinians had already taken care of that.
I look askance at Lt Nachman, "never seen you do that before."
"Take a look. Hamodia (Haredi newspaper) has photos of the cybercafe stoning."
Included are a couple shots of the "Atheist Pig" who interrupted G-d's good work. Sorry lads, you're only one for two. Meyer ain't an atheist.
Capt Herzog speaks to the assembled company, "As of noon tomorrow, legal title for this property passes from XXX Publishing to the State of Israel, due to unpaid taxes."
Oohs and ahs.
"In practical terms, if IJ shows at 11:00 am and blows this up, those insurance moneys belong in theory to XXX. Though of course, much would vanish due to unpaid taxes."
Roars of laughter.
"If IJ has a vehicle breakdown, arrives at 12:30, it would be pointless for them to proceed. Insurance policy is now null and void. And yes, there definitely are more useful targets around."
Laughter.
"We increase the guard til noon tomorrow. I expect maximum alertness. Naomi will leave the office, look after Meyer's people til then. After, a reorg, as we already have too many Chiefs and not enough Indians."
Laughter.
We wait on razor's edge. Every Israeli Arab innocently walking by on the road raises our pulses.
Yet of course nothing happens. The time passes, the State of Israel owns the building.
Capt convenes another meeting, "Sgt/Maj Goldstein will speak. Let it be known I back his plan 100% and will do whatever I can to help bring it about."
Easy smile, "gang, let's help our fellow Reservists. This building is too far away to be any use to us. Just half a klick over there (points), crumbling old Armory. Since this building is unsellable anyhow, I'm making the suggestion to the powers that be, that they give it to that unit."
Oohs and ahs.
"So I would appreciate that guard duty is taken at least semi-seriously for the rest of tour."
Murmurs of agreement.

(So ends Part One; the blog could be inactive for several months as Part Two is prepared.)

Naomi 3

I've barely arrived at the office when Sgt Meyer is impatient to sign out the one and only jeep for the company. He'll take correspondence to HQ and back. I attribute his impatience to
a) fact he's always that way
b) a desire to get back before it is too hot.
When I don't see him by ten, I suspect he's playing hooky. But who cares? He is an eminence grise, the unit functions better without him.
By lunchtime, the Captain is starting to get suspicious.
Mid-afternoon the police bring back our jeep, inform us they will keep the Sgt awhile, charges unspecified.
Lt Nachman hears in a hurry, regales us with it over supper.
Hookers charge half price til noon, which is why boyo was in such a hurry. He was picked up in the big John sweep. He's in good company, they nabbed two Members of the Knesset.
Given that in real life he is a yeshiva ( religious school) teacher, he's headed for problems. Also his wife will be less than thrilled.
Pleasant a thought all this is, it doesn't solve my problem. It won't get him thrown out of the Reserves. He'll still be around for years, being a right royal pain in the you know where.
Next morning, cops haul away our medic, charge him with the break-in at the food bank. So here's hoping everyone stays healthy.
Afternoon, it gets worse. They haul away three, in the big welfare fraud sweep.
Capt Herzog stands over my shoulder, looking at the spreadsheet.
Worried tone, "numbers lower than ever. Here's hoping IJ is away on holiday."
Next mor
ning a message is found by the front gate, "We're watching you clowns. When strength goes down to 20, we come for real. Signed, Al Aqsa."
Probably a hoax, but you never know.
For once, Lt Nachman proves useful. She examines word choice, syntax, decides it's a 99% probability that the note was written by someone with Hebrew as first language.
Arabs would probably have made reference to having fleas of 10,000 camels infest us for awhile and would have called us infidel dogs and lackeys of the Great Satan.
She's probably right. Hebrew is clipped, more a functional language. Arabic, with centuries of poetry tradition, is into flowery expression.
Other clue, Hebrew hand printing is more geometric; Arabic, flowing. Those habits stay with you.
That day, all our malefactors return.
Sgt Meyer gets a fine, his photo to be published in Name and Shame.
The medic pleads guilty to a reduced charge, gets 120 hours of community service; after his Reserve hitch is up.
The welfare frauders get a court date in the future.
Capt Herzog heaves a sigh of relief as manpower chart goes from crappier to merely crappy, where it started.

Naomi 2

Next morning, Sgt/Maj Goldstein stops by the office to drop off a form. Cheeky grin, "see that ex of yours is in a potful of trouble again."
"He does have a talent for that."
"Just love your dry sense of humor. Now, set aside jokes, why is the Old Man doing this to you?"
"Doing what?"
"He is way outa line. I'd lodge a grievance if I were you. He is putting you in a job beneath your rank and dignity."
"Oh, that, truth is I am less than 100% healthy."
Goldstein vigorously jabs the air, as he makes his point, "there is a reason he gets away with crap like this. That's because people allow it to happen. He darn well had a duty to place you in a proper Sgt job or scrub you from the tour."
"Chill Ari, he's a harmless old gentleman. And no, he doesn't have time to read all the memos and such, same as you and me, just a Reservist. He was merely trying to find a compromise. Leave him alone."
He sighs, "well ok." Looks out the window, sees no one around. Still, lowers his voice, "time we talked for real, instead of just joking around."
I nod, lean forward, curious.
"Now you as a Sgt, I mean when you are in your proper job, have it easy. Any troublemakers, just pass on up."
I nod.
"With me, the buck stops. Yes I could send them to an officer, but why bother? Himself appears to be suffering from Alzheimer's. Lt Nachman, what does she ever do other than flutter around and gossip?"
We both laugh.
"So you think on that. Suppose I should vanish. Don't show next summer, permanent medical exemption. Where does that leave you?"
It starts to dawn.
"Look at all the Sgt's. Who else but you?"
"Why are you telling me this Ari?"
"We've been friends and enemies for years. Felt you deserved a warning."
I groan, "Ari, I find myself in better health than you. Any suggestions would be appreciated."
"If you hang around Naomi, it'll only get worse. Every year, more people manage to dodge the tour. Every year, capital assets get more dilapidated."
I nod.
"Switch to reforestation crew for the month each summer. Easy to do in the bureaucratic sense, just fill the form. Away in the hills, cooler. Time for a change."
"Thank you so much Ari."
As he leaves, I ponder. He's right.
Sgt Meyer drops by to pass in a form. Dark look, "is the Old Fart nuts or what?"
I raise an eyebrow.
"Puh-lease, how you gonna keep a straight face? Is it not true, every single year, HQ fobs off some ridiculous low class assignment on us?"
I nod.
"And is it not true, every single year, Old Fart buys their line verbatim, no matter how off the wall it is?"
Again I nod, pointless to deny the obvious.
"Only a few more years for that silly wimp Goldstein. When I make Sgt/Maj, we will get some dignity, I assure you. Push for a real assignment, West Bank or Gaza."
He leaves, whistling a merry tune. Either way, with him or me in charge, sounds like a lost cause. Rest of the morning I look up info on reforestation.
As Capt appears, I switch from photos of cool forests to the spreadsheet on manpower utilization. He looks, over my shoulder, "that bad huh? Another two, three years, nobody left. Maybe just you and me. They'll make us ushers in the Knesset."
We both laugh.
I gather my food on the tray, groan inwardly. Room left at the table with Lt Nachman. If I don't go, will be perceived as rude. Worse yet, gossiped about.
Cpl Zilber is regaling people with stories from the tabloid she reads. Seems our fearless Prime Minister, the superhawk, has an extramarital affair going with a dominatrix.
As I listen to all this, I realize my harsh judgment of the Jerusalem Post's journalism was unwarranted. They are shining paragons compared to the tabloids.
As I listen, it's obvious no one is asking, "just a min, maybe this is just a ploy to sell papers?"
I return to the office more depressed than ever.
Just as I exit the mess after supper, the sun is going down. Capt Herzog says cheerfully, "well, IJ didn't come today. Another 29 days, they'll be someone else's worry."
Lt Nachman natters on about committees in the kibbutz, who sleeps with whom.
I dream about IJ. The boyos appear, brandishing AK-47's. I feel it wisest to meekly hand over the key to the empty warehouse. After inspecting it, they depart laughing. One calls out, "not worth the powder to blow it to hell. Go get a real summer job."
It was one of those argument, just started from nowhere at breakfast. Soon Cpl Zilber and Lt Nachman have a bet going. Ten shekels that Zilber lacks nerve to dance topless on the table.
Zilber wins the bet than and there, to loud raucous applause.
As we file out, I ask Zilber how that got going.
Laugh, "I'm not exactly sure. But it never hurts to advertise."

Naomi 1

I've programmed my cell phone to get main news items and my horoscope. As I wait, I start with news.
Police arrested a Mr Big pusher in Haifa, who allegedly used the drug profits to run a Satanic harem.
Once again, the Air Force denies UFO's were sighted over the Negev Desert. Another Air Force officer denies that those UFO's were Egyptian.
We are on track for the lowest Reservist turnout in over a decade. The IDF (Israeli Defence Force) denies that Reservists get crummy trailers and chow, blames the sudden wave of illness on the ineptness of municipal water authorities.
The biggest car dealership is suing the government over alleged sales loss due to gasoline price increases.
A Haredi (ultraOrthodox) rabbi is suing El Al for serving refreshments that allegedly are insufficiently kosher. What a joke! Since which century have they served food? Oh, of course, he means coffee was not kosher enough for him.
The Mayor of Jerusalem is reminding residents that "mooning" tourists on the street is unacceptable behavior.
A Member of the Knesset has taken a leave of absence after animal wardens allegedly found over one hundred cats in his apartment.
The biggest porn publisher is declaring bankruptcy, blaming Customs for allegedly allowing an influx of cheap porn from Lebanon.
So now you see why I never bother to buy a newspaper; the headliner items are silly enough.
I look at my horoscope. Play it safe, any risk undertaken during the next week is doomed to certain failure. I shrug, story of my life.
I see Karen join the line at the counter. From her expression, she won and is just dying to tell me all about it. She buys coffee, joins me, "well Naomi, it worked."
"Tell me all about it."
"That Capt Herzog, we know what an idiot he is. IQ same as his shoe size. And those Orthodox men, blush sooo easy. (Recounts a long and ghastly list of female problems, in minute detail). By the time I was done with him, he didn't know whether to cry or scream or throw up or all three. Ta-Da." Shows me the exemption form for the one month summer tour.
I congratulate her, while secretly wishing she had used less detail. This is a public place.
Wicked smile, she asks, "so how you gonna play it?"
"We-ell if I tried that same list, might not work for the second person."
She roars with laughter, "just love your dry sense of humor."
"See Karen, it's a touch dangerous. He does have the option whether to demand a medical or not. Mostly they don't bother, costs the IDF money. But if he gets suspicious"
She cuts in, "got it, urinary tract infection. Not as likely to arouse suspicion, yet impossible to do Reservist duty.
"I donno."
"Oh come on, don't always be such a chicken."
I practise in front of the mirror, get so good I can blush on cue.
Starting my blush routine, I say, "Capt, I'm afraid I can't make the tour."
Kind tone, "why is that?"
Blushing hotter now, "well you see," I gasp, "it's a urinary tract infection. Terrible it is. Twice, thrice, sometimes four times an hour."
He actually looks relieved, was he expecting worse? Smile, "do you believe in Fate, Naomi?"
"I'm not sure," I stall, wondering where he is headed.
"Well I believe in Fate. Every single year for the last eight my company clerk has been ill. No one really wants to do that job. But every single year, brings one UTI. You can be company clerk; there is a bathroom in that trailer. Exemption denied."
I groan inwardly, have fantasies of wrapping my hands around Karen's neck and squeezing. How boring can you get! Half an hour of paper a day, cooped up alone in that sweltering trailer. Least my usual duties afforded fresh air and companionship. My horoscope was right.
Solicitous look, Capt asks, "you feeling ok?"
"Not really."
"Come on now, don't take it so hard. Who is better at paper than you? Breeze of a job. You'll want it every year."
"Excuse me Capt, gotta run, bathroom is calling."
Karen looks at my face, "didn't work huh?"
"Nope, made me his company clerk."
"Look at the bright side. He leaves that laptop in the trailer during the day. Huge collection of porn. And him an Orthodox!"
"Don't you suppose that - gasp - he might have a password?"
"Certainly, same one as he's used for years, Armageddon."
"How do you hear all this stuff?"
"IDF is like a small town, ain't a lotta secrets."
Capt Herzog rises, points at the map, "and this is the premise of XXX Publishing. Now vacant of course, everything inside has been sold at discount. We will guard it."
Sgt Meyer cuts in curtly, "what on earth for?"
"Well you see, HQ has heard a rumor Islamic Jihad is planning to blow it up."
"That is ridiculous," Sgt Meyer snorts, "even the newest among this company could easily name fifty more likely targets. Come on Cap, those explosives cost IJ money, they gonna waste it on an empty building?"
"Rumor is, collect insurance money. IJ and XXX then split the take."
As we file out, Sgt/Maj Goldstein says quietly to me, "what an idiot, buys every HQ rumor hook line and sinker. The real poop is it will be the Al Aqsa Martyrs Brigade."
"Why is that?"
"IJ is far more morally pure, has a strict code of conduct. Al Aqsa will do jobs like that for lucre."
"Comforting thought. IJ is far more professional; be lots easier to guard against Al Aqsa."
Triumphant look, "see, knew you'd agree with me."
My morose mood deepens as I discover more joys of this tour. None of my usual friends made it, all wangled an exemption in one fashion or other.
And so it is I will roommate with Lt Nachman. Other than the fact she is the Queen of Tasteless, she isn't too bad.
She rattles on with a story of three men from her kibbutz being expelled for bestiality. With the amount of detail in her story, I'd say she was a voyeur on more than one occasion.
She asks if I read the story in Jerusalem Post on the horse race fixing scandal.
My neck and shoulders tighten as I say no.
She bubbles on, "oh yes, now the prosecution is alleging your ex-husband got preferential treatment from the judge, an unusually short sentence, because of a prior illicit homosexual liaison."
And then I laugh, hey throw the book at him!
She continues in school teacherly fashion, "Further, that same allegation is being made against half the defendants. They'll all end up back in court, different judge."
As she goes on, my eyes glaze over. Enough. The press is totally obsessed with the justice system. Is this not more a matter between Daniel and Israel until the final decision is rendered? If he's guilty, he'll pay the price.

Table of Contents

"Lily" - book length - entered July 4 to August 12, 2006
For Lily, life was quiet until the scandal. It wasn't really her fault, but all the same everyone was laughing at her. Just when it fades, physical handicap arrives, causing drastic changes.

All other items - Table of Contents was the last item published in June 2006. For ease of finding, scroll down at right and click on "June 2006".

Lily 24

Prof Nitikman begins, I suppose you wonder who marked all those exams.
At that moment, I know.
I found myself disagreeing, and often vigorously, with a third of your conclusions.
I groan inwardly.
Now had you been a Master's candidate, writing such when library information was available, you would certainly fail.
Oy!
Considering your eduction of high school and one year tech; considering the only information available was that in your head; it was a phenomenal achievement. On a couple items, you changed my opinion, history of Jews in India and one other too lengthy to mention now.
Thank you.
I detect in your line of logic, those weren't all your own opinions. Obvious you've squared off with a male debating partner, I'm guessing your father.
I blush, nod.
Nothing to be ashamed of. Where would the world be if every person had to reinvent the wheel? And if your father did not influence you, surely books would.
I breathe a little easier.
I conclude you are a very capable student, look forward to working with you.
Thank you.
Gen begins, by now I'm sure you've reached the conclusion the Col and myself are cowboys with our shorts on too tight. Akin to circa 2000 novels where a rogue lone CIA agent brings the USA to the brink of total war.
Pointless to deny the obvious. It would be better if I hadn't blushed.
Let's put it in perspective. Are you aware of IDF authorization levels for incursions outside The Wall?
I reply the IDF has strict rules of what constitutes hot pursuit when the enemy has started an incident. Actual premeditated IDF incursions require Defence Minister approval.
Gen smiles, and we're even more closely watched. A pure research trip, with no actions authorized, requires Prime Minister approval. Any act which could potentially change history requires unanimous consent of Prime Minister, Defence Minister, Foreign Minister, and Education Minister.
Inwardly I heave a sigh of relief.
There is no fail mark. Failure is not coming back. Even returning with anything at all, makes you a Lieutenant. An average bureaucratic report, Captain. Show talent, ability to analyze, as the Prof believes you have, Major.
I nod.
For now, we won't go into transmission methods, that's for later with the tech people. Prof will take you under his wing for a month or so. Show you what info we already have from circa 2000, no point bringing back. Show you what we want to find out.
I shift uneasily.
Don't misunderstand me. You aren't a spy prying out mil info. Every secret they owned in those days, is now printed in textbooks for our undergrad history students to read.
First couple hours, Prof walks me through data bases. I realize it's pointless to return with anything published by the New York Times, Canadian Census, NATO, and a long list of others.
Time for tea, he asserts. I must have missed his sleight of hand trick, not expecting foul play. After one sip, I'm falling asleep.
I'm standing at a stream. The water, darker than deepest purple, bubbles up from the ground in murky waves. Everything is covered with ash.
I walk along the stream what seems forever. Every step brings feelings of melancholy, but I know I must see this.
And then I arrive at the swamp. As far as the eye can see, angry people are hitting and biting each other. I now know where I am, Styx. The vibes coming off this defy the English language to describe.
Yet curiously, none assault me. As I move forward, they stand aside respectfully, like the parting of the Red Sea.
As I walk, again forever, I understand the bubbles coming up are people confined below surface.
And then I see a crowd of people swallowing mud. They too do not impede me, stand aside respectfully.
I am now at the foot of a tower. End of the line for the living; only the dead go further.
A million plus eyes are on me, curious.
For the first time I hear, even though the people engaged in hitting had been screaming.
It is a terrible demonic voice, coming from high up in the tower. Orders me not to look up, asks my name.
Lily Lichtenbaum.
Lily, do you know where you are?
Yes.
Where is that?
Fifth Circle of Hell.
Demented laugh, then asks, are you Living or Dead?
Living.
How do you deduce that?
Were I Dead, I would be hitting and biting. Were I Dead, others would hit and bite me.
Again the laugh, very good. Now why are you here? Are you upon a quest?
Yes.
You must turn back, the Living go no further.
I turn to go.
Don't go yet. I admire anyone with enough courage to walk this far. Scarcely one in a century. I gift you your hearing back, to aid in your quest. Now go in peace.
His voice gets louder, listen up clowns, no noise til she's back. I tell you when it's ok to party again.
Again I pass through the Red Sea parting, this time they are even more respectful.
As I return to the source of the stream, I awake in Prof's office, covered with mud and ash. Wierd or what?
He speaks, "do you hear me ok?"
"Yes."
"Means you actually went all the way. What did he tell you?"
"Admired my courage, gave me my hearing back."
"It is they control the portals of time. None pass but they approve. But now, you are free to come and go at will."
"Hold on a min, how many people have you sent looking for this approval?"
"Fifty. You're the first to succeed."
"Am I the first deaf person to go?"
Easy laugh, "what you went through was terrible enough. Now imagine the wall of white noise on top of it. Any surprise no one else did it?"

Lily 23

I'm not sure where I am. I have been in USAF sick bay before, this looks very similar. Only I have my own room, come on, a Capt does not rate that.
Only way I can tell passage of time is soldiers bring food, most of which I don't feel like eating. Soldiers seem odd, won't talk with me, funny lettering on the badges. Scruffy too - bet they get into trouble time to time.
I mostly dream, think of school and pre-war days in Louisiana. I'm getting a bit ticked, like to get out, get back to my buddies.
Virgil, the Lt copilot, still owes me $10 from the last poker game. When is he ever gonna pay?
And when will they find my mail, bring it? Love to hear from Mary Lou and the parents.
Finally, I realize the problem is me. Dizzy, fainting after the Ploesti trip. They don't trust me medically anymore, it'll be a discharge or desk job.
At first this makes me angry. Anger soon vanishes, as I shrug. Come on, USAF never bothered to listen to the opinions of Captain Robert E Lee Beauregard before, why would they start now?
And then one of the soldiers attaches a mirror to the wall. So it is I gradually realize who I really am.
I look different. Heat singed the fine hairs off my arms, gave my face a steel mill worker look. Couple days of moisturizers and I look like me again.
I meet with Col and Gen.
Gen smiles wickedly, first trap was the ammo. Either way, if you'd opted for 2,400 or 7,200, end of computer game, you'd be dead, virtually of course. But this is proof you understand that sometimes one must break the rules, but do so in a balanced way.
Col grins, you outflew the original Capt Beauregard by a long shot. Came home with half as many holes. Even brought back more corn. They laugh.
Gen takes on a serious look, Job One, you came back under your own steam.
It starts to dawn.
He continues, irrelevent how little or much time it takes. Critical thing, you made the choice, didn't need drugs administered. They have unpleasant side effects.
Col smiles wanly, it's that hard coming back from an intense one day virtch, now imagine real time travel.
They will be in touch, in due course.
At my next meeting there is a visitor. Face rings a bell, the author and Professor Nitikman.
Gen makes the introduction, states this time we will all speak in generalities, refrain from specifics, yields the floor to Prof.
Prof turns to me, types let's begin with some philosophy. Now gather together a Saskatchewan Tory (Conservative) and New Democrat (Socialist). Would you agree debate would be fierce on those issues confined to Saskatchewan's borders?
Perhaps an overstatement, not everyone approaches politics with real passion.
I stand corrected. Would you agree that in many such cases, there would be hot debate?
To that, most certainly.
Ok, move the debate topic on to the doings of Revenue Canada or the bilingual authority in Ottawa. Is there more likely to be consensus or debate between these two?
Consensus would be more likely.
And if they discuss the doings of the US President?
Almost certainly consensus.
Now take a Saskatchewan Tory, a farmer and a Toronto Tory, a stockbroker. Is it possible they disagree on tax system issues?
Oh yes.
And yet, these same two could comfortably converse on the USA or Middle East, could they not?
Certainly.
Ok, take the same stockbroker, send him to an American convention. Meets with mostly Republican Party members or sympathisers. He could get into a debate on Canada-US relations, right?
Yes.
Yet on topics such as NATO, European Union, Middle East, there would be a general consensus.
Yes.
Ok, now I make the argument that in each case I gave, there are more similarities that bind the participants together than there are differences which divide. Reasonable statement?
I ponder a moment. Yes Prof, a truism, maybe not true in 100% of cases, could be things like personality conflicts.
Excellent, now let us consider the entire English-speaking world. Consider the overall homogenization of things like clothing, vehicles, politics, food, literature, music. Would you agree that the English speaking world has far more that binds it together than it has differences?
Certainly.
So the Saskatchewan farmer probably has more in common with the New York stockbroker than he has in common with a small farmer in India?
On most issues.
Excellent, one last question. Since the English-speaking world has so much in common, could you plant an observer in any English country and observe all of them effectively?
Yes and no, Prof. No, in that there could be data overload. Yes, in that if a study had scope to avoid date overload, it could be highly effective.
With a triumphant smile, Prof Nitikman yields the floor.
Gen smiles, let us assume you were offered a choice of infiltrating post 9/11 Canada, USA or Israel. Which would you choose and why?
Canada, hands down. Israel is more like an extended family than a real nation. Everyone knows someone who knows someone else. Lot harder to just show up out of thin air. USA, totally gone on its paranoia, strangling on it. Canada, be perfect, just appear in Toronto. If anyone does get around to asking, vaguely refer to coming from a Saskatchewan farm. Unlikely they'll demand more specifics.
This gets all three laughing.
Col smiles soberly, and now the $64 question. Given that you must make a living, what cover story would be best?
Avoid the trades, professions like the plague. Changed so much over the centuries you'd give yourself away in an hour. Go for a menial job, like dishwasher. Long as it's nothing handling cash, they won't worry about references.
From the looks on all three, I've just hit a homer outa the park.

Lily 22

Col's voice crackles over the radio, "yes everybody, we're still going in."
Various protests, someone else hit our target, we should take theirs.
Col cuts it off, "we're very low on fuel, no time to dodge around, guessing which of six refineries it might be. Half those buildings are still standing. If your specific target is down, pick something else. Plenty to go around."
Lt and I stare in absolute awe at the forest of smoke stacks, some over 100 feet high, we're gonna skim the tops of them. Immense columns of thick black smoke drift skywards, all that burning oil.
The heat is beyond belief, as we fly over patches of dancing flames. Noise, think boiler factory. Holes start appearing at an alarming pace, as flak chunks puncture the aircraft skin.
Turbulence, oy, with all that heat and wind; lotsa debris floating in the air.
We pass through column after column of smoke, headed for the B4 pumphouse.
Nosegunner is as good as his word and then some. Short economical bursts, hits lotta Krauts.
As we exit a mammoth smoke column, bombardier calls cheerfully, "there she is," I turn over control for the bomb run.
He delivers picture perfect, three second fuse delay. Plane shudders getting rid of that much weight.
Tone of reverence in the voice of the rear gunner, "totalled it, be-eautiful sight."
Lt gasps, "oh oh, ME-109's a-coming."
I put it right on the deck as we fly over an immense corn field. Ultra low, makes it impossible for them to swoop accurately.
Lt canvases the various turrets. Whoever can spare ammo, donate to the mid-upper and rear turrets, they'll be busiest.
But then, I find a dry river bed headed in the right direction. We're so low, we're below the river bank height.
And that proves to be our exit. Invisible to ME-109's, we fly safely back to North Africa.
I decline to land, let Lt do it.
After, we inspect.
Cheerful grin, nosegunner says, "Cap, you brought back cornstalks stuck on them bomb bay doors. Migod!"
Lt claps me on the back, roars with laughter, "he-ell, if boyo can bring us back from Regensburg, he can bring us back from anywhere, hell itself. Piece of cake, right Bobby?"
I laugh, "sure, still y'all owe me a beer."
Everyone laughs; I feel dizzy.

Lily 21

This time, must be getting more secret, Col and Gen will type their own comments.
Gen flashes a wicked smile, had us all beat. Even found holes in those stories we didn't know of til now.
Thank you.
Col smiles soberly, assures me deafness is an asset, but he's not at liberty to explain why just yet.
Gen grins, we want to see you play a virtch. Why? Just see what you look like in action.
What sort of virtch?
Full day game, aren't told in advance anything about it, measure your ability to improv.
Next morning, as the virtch helmet goes on, I feel dizzy.
When it clears, I'm standing on a desert airstrip, with two men in USAF uniform in front of an obvious WW2 B24 Liberator bomber.
A quick glance at the clipboard I hold shows me it's August 1, 1943 and today we go calling on the oil refineries at Ploesti, Romania.
Irritated look, Lt starts, "Bobby, quit that daydreaming and pay attention. Now this fellow is authorized 2,400 rounds for that nose machine gun. I caught him with 7,200 in there."
I can hear, sort of. My voice comes out wrong, male American sound, Southern accent. Nodding to the Sgt, I say, "seems a bit much. Please explain why."
Ingratiating smile, "Cap, need I remind you what the briefing said? We'll be 150 feet up. Runup to target will be 35 minutes, passing over some 250 of those 88 millimeters. Intel even estimates 4/5 are manned by real Krauts, not those silly Romanians. Then Lord alone knows how many machine guns. You given any thought to what happens when I run outa ammo?"
I groan, "yeah, friend Jerry ain't taking cover anymore. He has time to focus, aim."
"Good, Cap, knew you'd see it my way."
Lt cuts in, "Bobby, with 4,800 extra in there you ain't gonna get lift. We'll all die at the end of the Berka Two runway."
I drawl, "yeah, we're already overloaded quite bad. Ordinary full bomb load, think 2,100 mile roundtrip. Add in all that extra fuel, it'll be 2,700."
"Don't stop there, Bobby. Any idea how much extra stress on wings? On engines? How much extra fuel that ammo'll burn?"
I ponder a moment, "so, y'all are saying we're dead either way, with 2,400 or 7,200, right?"
Both smile as they catch my meaning. Sgt makes the offer, "ok, how bout I go with 4,800? I promise to be real careful, short stitching, make it last the 35 minutes."
Lt's look softens, "Bobby, ok with you?"
I grin, 'have I crashed it yet?"
And so we unload 2,400. Looking down the line of aircraft, others are engaged in unloading some.
Even then, those four 1,200 horsepower engines are wailing like Banshees when we finally clear ground sullenly.
It's only then the irony hits me, I'm flying "Louisiana Lily".
Lt grins uneasily from the copilot chair, "Bobby, you pulled her into the air with 25 yards of runway left. What's more, didn't even sweat doing it." Pause. "But then, as I recall, you didn't even sweat over Regensburg."
Except for the ill fated Montana Mary ditching into the Adriatic, it's an uneventful trip. That is, til we arrive at Astra Romana, biggest of the refineries, to see a sight Dante would be proud of.
I give the nosegunner orders: ignore MG's, concentrate on flak, make it last. Every spare body I send forward, to fire Thompsons outa windows.
Lt smiles uneasily, "Bobby, we came back from Regensburg with over 300 holes. Reckon we'll beat that today. That is, if we're still alive to do the counting."

Lily 20

And eventually, yes I am called for the interview. At this stage, they never do admit that it is for time travel. In theory, I am answering all this neat stuff merely to work with a higher class of books at HQ. Oh yes, major change, moving from primarily entertainment books to primarily scholarly.
It gets curious as the formal part of the interview ends. We end up in a - gasp - spontaneous discussion on science fiction. Now first, I haven't read a whole lot of sci fi. Second, I'm not very impressed by that which I have read.
So how do they leave things hanging? Give me a list of a half dozen scifi, recommended reading, as the fiction could be approaching non-fiction.
I am to read all, give a one page book review on each.
Needless to say, three of these books have to do primarily with time travel into the past. The others, alternate time lines.
Well, there is something in me that rebels against this sort of thing. I do happen to have a memory which is almost photographic.
And so it is, five of the six I can spot one or more inconsistencies.
My book reports are considerably less than flattering. In all cases, I assert insufficient attention to the detail could leave the protagonist hanging in limbo, unable to make the return trip.
And then I wait for an answer on that; but not holding my breath.

Lily 19

The exam continues on.
Compare and contrast the WW2 resistance led by Abba Kovner in Lithunia with that of Menachem Begin during British Mandate days.
Which famous Israeli politician was first able to connect with the USA Christian Right and how? Give the effects on Israel and USA.
Role of Cyprus during British Mandate days.
Increase in membership of the Haredi movement over the centuries; its economic and political effects.
Immediate and longterm effects of Sabra and Shatila.
Effects of the Pierre Trudeau regime on Canadian Jewry. Better than or less than the Stephen Harper regime? Argue either side.
Impact on Israeli society, immediate and longterm, of arrival of large numbers of Russian Jews.
Role of the Histadruth labor organization over the centuries.
Collapse of the farming sector brought about by global warming; with particular emphasis on Jordan River and Dead Sea.
Argue for either a free-floating shekel or a pegged one.
Changes coming about because of the rise of the anti tank missile.
Compare sexism and racism through the centuries, between Israel and North America.
Should the Knesset be changed to more closely resemble the Canadian Parliament? Why or why not? If so, which changes?
How useful a study for Israel would be the multi-culturalism epoch of Pierre Trudeau?
Many say the US invasion of Iraq was the wrong war; should have been Iran. Argue either side.
Chronicle the Jewish history in India; show how it was unique.
Well, you do get the picture. By the weekend, bigtime writer's cramp.
Second week, worse, events of 1933 to 1945. To keep this story suitable for children, I decline to be more specific.
As I hand the last of it in, I can't help wonder. Who marks this? How? Almost everything is subjective; any answer could be right or wrong or part of each.
To be honest, I have mixed motives. Part of me wishes for a peaceful life.
The other side, says hey, life's a bore, imagine the sheer thrill of time travel. Go for it, if you get the chance.

Lily 18

The Captain shuts her office door after I enter. There's the first clue, she rarely does that.
With a smug look which says I told you so, she passes me a memo addressed to her from HQ. She is instructed to do whatever arrangements are necessary to do without me for a period of two weeks.
It isn't really all that hard; same as the one week vacation I was on. The library is in the same building as Finance and Admin, immediately next to it. As theft (at least of books) has never been a problem, patrons come and go. When they are ready, one of the clerks will check their books out. Anything returned will simply be stacked up; she offers me Esther if needed when I return.
That sorted, she passes the memo addressed to me, carbon copy to her. I am scheduled for an exam. Intention of this, to evaluate whether I should be doing a more responsible job in HQ library. They claim that the transcript forwarded from tech in Canada is vague and inconclusive.
To this I reply, come on, it was eight pages, every course covered in minute detail, including even which text books and how many hours devoted to each section.
Captain grins, yeah, and the last person who had to do a real library exam; found it was half a day. So, guess what?
What else?
These people are nothing if not overly heavy duty. I am even to remain in residence during each week, permitted out on weekend. Reason, the exams may take extensive time; might be difficult using transit each day.
Well, I show, discover I am the only person being so tested. Rules are it will be done on paper only. Handheld will not be allowed as there is always the possibility of cheating.
I have absolutely no way of knowing how many marks each question is worth. I am locked in a room each day, carafe of water and coffee handy, bathroom enclosed. Lunch will be brought.
Once I have completed each thing, I pass it out, am given a new topic. End of a day, must finish a topic, no carryover to next day allowed.
I laugh as I read the first. In 1,500 words approximately, describe the causes of the breakup of the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. To each cause, apportion a percentage and defend in argument your choice of percent for that cause.
Now in argument with father, we isolated four obvious causes of this.
First, the USA would have you believe they are totally responsible for it. That is, the arms race buildup of Ronald Reagan pushed the Soviet economy into total collapse. True, but only partly so. Think of a parallel, outside of hurricane, how often does a strong wind blow over perfectly healthy trees? It picks off those trees diseased or dying. Had the Soviet economy been robust, the American pressure would have accomplished little.
Second, the very lack of any Soviet economic success. Life revolved around endless five year plans promising pie in the sky and a black market economy that was staggering. When you preside over an economy the size of the Province of Ontario, the slightest breeze tests your tree.
Third, think withdrawal of consent by the populace. Now one of the strong effects of the Viet Nam War on the USA, was a withdrawal by the people. A belief that the federal government now is lacking in legitimacy and therefore a fair target for things like mass protests, tax evasion, draft evasion and so forth. Now the Soviet manifestation of this was a little quieter, but real all the same. There were various means of avoiding Afghanistan duty when you were in the army. Similarly, there were also various means of terminating your Afghan hitch before its scheduled ending. History records Soviet soldiers went so far as to self-infect with hepatitis.
Fourth, think changing of the guard, the generations. Prior to Mikhail Gorbachev, there was an endless parade of old fogies, people who had been through World War Two. Their beliefs had become obsolete. What made sense at first, that is buffer states to protect against missiles, became more and more out of date as the range lengthened. What good is Bulgaria to defend against InterContinental Ballastic Missiles which fly 12,000 miles? Gorbachev, of the younger generation, saw this, realized changes were needed.
And now, the tricky part, how much percentage to give each? Go 20% credit for the USA, 25% due to the USSR economic failure, 40% due to withdrawal of consent of the Soviet people, and 15% to Mikhail Gorbachev being the first young man to take over since WW2.
I finish, pass it out.
It doesn't get any easier from there. Next question has two parts. First, what was the biggest success of Ariel Sharon during the War of 1948? Second, what actions, during his entire career, were least effective for Israel?
I opt to go with the establishment of Commando Unit 101 and the 1982-2000 occupation tactics in Lebanon, respectively. Ouch, wonder what marks that'll get?

Lily 17

Ever since the successful negotiations with the IDF, Bakehila has changed tone. They ax conspiracy theories; replacing it with coverage of how ongoing negotiations concerning parttime students are going.
Now Ruth Esther and Nathan think those conspiracy stories were a hoot, ridiculous, not one ounce of credibility.
As I get to know Yakob better, I realize he's crackers. Yes, he's nice, well mannered, well read; and yes, he is open minded on as many topics as your average North American.
Unfortunately he is totally into conspiracy theory. Never in his wildest dreams would it occur to him that some Haredim simply quietly leave of their own choice.
Anyone he knows of who has vanished; he is 100% certain the sinister IDF is behind all this. And of course, I am somewhat morally guilty for working for this same IDF.
The deafness, he handles well, obviously coached by Nathan.
Now I could live with the fact he's nuts over one topic. Come on, name a man who is not. Be it sport, politics, religion, academic research, whatever; every man has some degree of obsession in his life.
What I find difficult to handle is his superior self-righteous attitude, that all Haredim are morally superior to other Jews. What started as promising, fades into the sunset.
Ruth is philosophical about it, knew Yakob was a bit crackers, just didn't know how much. Neither of us allows this to impact our friendship.
Nathan wishes me better luck next time. Kind soul that he is, he promises to check up on the reputation of anyone else I should happen to meet. I know some westerners would be offended, tell him to mind his own business. I don't, I know his heart is in the right place. I've become part of his family; he feels a duty to protect me.
At work it is unlikely I'd meet anyone. I am a sort of hero for giving them back their library, but two factors militate against any informality.
First, no one handles the deafness well. In their view, it only happens to old people. Ergo, I am an older person with a well preserved face.
Second, the soldiers believe I am Haredi. Lotta clues pointing to this. My very modest dress style compared to seculars who let it all hang out. East European look, as opposed to sabra look. Name, Lily Lichtenbaum, has a more Haredi ring than secular. Also, I arrived here because I knew Esther and live in a Haredi neighborhood.
Everybody is polite, but I doubt if I will find either friendship with female soldiers or romance with male.
In the residence itself, gradually people drift away, start to return to Canada or USA. Gripes include internet too expensive, too much bureaucracy, the feeling Israel just didn't deliver the unique experience they thought it should.
The last one puzzles me. If you hide out in your apartment, surf day and night, how open are you to receiving the Israel experience?
As replacements arrive, a surprise, Naomi from Canada arrives, ends up in this same building.
Holder of the two year tech diploma she rapidly finds her way into the public library system.
She earns double the legal minimum wage; myself just over minimum. I am not envious; merely happy she succeeds.
Our paths cross far less than I would have expected. She socializes with workplace people; I have largely been absorbed into the Haredi world.
Nathan and Ruth don't like her at all. Nathan is too polite to state why, but Ruth is clearcut in her views. Dresses like a prostitute, disgrace to the whole neighborhood.
To be honest, she is right. Naomi is considerably worse than most of the original residents. Pretty much everyone here has found a workable compromise, somewhere between Israeli secular look and Haredi look.
In fact, there are storekeepers who refuse to serve Naomi. That is news to me, they've never done that with other building residents.
In the end, the uproar dies down. She finds a secular boyfriend to move in with, vanishes from the area.
Ruth looks uneasy, not knowing how to start. See she and Nathan have been talking, feel they really do need to get away a bit. The problem, they couldn't just leave the children with anyone, hafta be someone they like, trust.
I'm flattered. And no, it's no real hassle to get a week of vacation.
They head off to a hotel in the north for a week.
It's an enjoyable time. The children are well behaved throughout, go out of their way to be helpful to Aunt Lily.
I'm glad I was able to be helpful.
Shortly after my return from vacation the Captain and I are summoned to a meeting in the videoconference room. We take our chairs, see that a Colonel and General will be speaking. They have a secretary who will type their speech into closed caption. I will type my own replies.
The Gen starts by stating I will be receiving an award for merit. There was a petition by the soldiers, glad the library problem was finally sorted out by a capable person.
I thank him.
With a smile, Gen asks how it was I chose to study in the library field.
Why not? Just always liked being around books.
But I mean, you could have gone for tech jobs which paid lots better. X-Ray or paramedic for example.
Well yes I could have, but money isn't everything.
He asks what it is I like to read for recreation.
Everything, but I'm much more into historical fiction.
Read much on the circa 2000 people?
General, who would not? Are they not larger than life, crazier than most before or since? There simply never has nor never will be a time like that again.
And now he's laughing, admits he too loves circa 2000 fiction.
He then enquire whether I just stay with Jewish authors, or read others too.
I reply, overall half and half.
It's all very friendly, but I'm aware of the Col's eyes on me. Staring, evaluating.
As the meeting ends, Capt and I leave. Watch out for those people.
How so?
Your word what I say goes no further?
Agreed.
Time travel; they were sizing you up.
I gasp.
Awkward grin. They'll try and bribe you. Just one trip, come back a Major.
Meaning if I get back?
Bingo, they've had some transmission problems.

(So ends Part 2; the blog could be inactive for several months as Part 3 is prepared.)

Lily 16

Meanwhile, at the IDF library, chaos reigns supreme. The Captain who is in charge of Finance and Admin will be my boss. She and I meet to decide how to proceed.
See well over half the total book stock is sitting in the back room, not checked in after being returned by patrons.
In the end, we come to a sensible compromise anyhow. There are two reasons why it's pointless to try to keep the doors open continuously.
One, I don't have a lot that I can lend; will waste time that could be used for the repair job.
Two, many soldiers on the station are just about to depart on two weeks on maneuvers.
Under her orders, the library is closed for two weeks and she loans me Esther to help out.
And so, it works out well. By the time the library reopens, almost all the backlog has been cleared; I now have adequate stock to loan out.
I had heard via the grapevine that IDF soldiers tend to be very scornful and condescending towards any North American Jews they encounter.
But this is not my experience. They are hugely pleased their library is back in shape. After all, reading is much more of a thing in the IDF than in many western armies.
And so it is, the job works out very well. From there on, just keep things in shape.

Lily 15

My fellow North Americans in this residence tend to bring their previous life habits. We don't have serious alcoholics or druggies, but a solid majority is thoroughly hooked on satellite TV, computer games and/or internet.
They don't socialize much with each other, let alone with the surrounding Haredim.
For me, opposite, it's like I've been adopted into Ruth's family. She does an evening course once weekly and I cheerfully babysit. Her children are well behaved; act like I'm their aunt.
She invites me for dinner sometimes; other times I take her and the children for ice cream.
As I get to know her neighbors, I soon see a majority have good family life. Yes there are a few bad eggs, but one can say the same of any group.
I had always assumed Haredim were humorless, uptight, closed minded. I soon see she and the rest are anything but. As we get to know each other better, I even tell her embarrassing stuff like my former fiance.
One day she starts out a little tentatively, could she ask well, now Yakob, who works down at the grocery store we both go to, well it seems he has a lowgrade scandal in his background too.
In his case, it involves his wife divorcing him because he proved to be the guilty party, as to why they could not have children. She has since remarried, has some.
For his part, he's viewed as a bit disreputable because of this. Goes to work, hides at home afterward. And since I can't have any either, would I at least like to talk with him?
Is he the sort to insist I convert?
No, only important if children are involved. Without them, mixing Reform and Haredi makes no real difference.
I agree, he and I will both show at her place for Sabbath dinner.
He is a nice, well mannered, well read guy, but so deathly shy it's unlikely to ever get done.
Still, next day Ruth informs me things went lots better than I thought. Her husband Nathan likes me, talked privately with Yakob.
Apparently Nathan laid it out in no uncertain terms. No Haredi woman wants you; you don't want a secular Israeli. Meaning if you don't find someone from that batch of North American Jews, plan on a long lonely life. And don't be prejudiced because she happens to be deaf.
A secular might well have told Nathan to mind his own business. Not a Haredi, they are simply that much more into helping each other through life's problems.

Lily 14

Now the Haredi dress code is a two tier thing, much stricter for themselves than for those outsiders passing through their area. For us, the seculars, they are happy to see that knees and elbows are covered.
I see the obvious approval on the face of the kindly old rabbi as he sees my floral dress, 3/4 sleeve, almost ankle length.
He regards my note, ponders just a moment. Then writes his reply, of course, I know just the person for you. Please come with me.
He walks me to the nearby Development, maybe two blocks away. Introduces me to Ruth, age 30, four children, also deaf. Now she has also taken the ASL course, so we hit it off right away, talk all afternoon.
She insists I stay for supper, hard to shop for stuff on my first day. Her husband isn't there, weekdays he is in a residential yeshiva out of town; comes home weekends.
She can leave the children for a bit in the care of the oldest child, so she helps me explore. Everything from newsstand to grocery store to bakery to clinic to library.
And always, when we are out, I invite her to go for coffee. I always let her choose, she has ideas of which place is more kosher and which is less. By the time we're done, I've discovered half a dozen neat places for coffee, a real asset to know.
And, in a curious way, it is the Haredi network which saves my butt, gets me employment. Using my library knowledge as the starting point, she summons an acquaintance to explain what is happening at the library at a not so far away minor IDF station. Seems there has been a lot of turnover, for no explicable reason.
Esther grins wickedly when she finally understands my story of starting out as tech, ending up as helper. Seems nobody from nearby can be hired because no one has the tech background. Yet any seculars hired soon move along. Why? It is totally beneath their dignity to spend half their time on tech work, half putting away books.
Next day I accompany her to her Admin Clerk job there. On the spot, the Captain in charge of Finance and Admin hires me.
Cheerful look, "seems things are in a bit of mess. Could you start today?"
Absolutely.

Lily 13

I had expected Bakehila to gloat over what was a clear cut Haredi victory.
They don't, merely thank the IDF for negotiating in good faith, helping to solve the issue of fulltime yeshiva students. They look forward to continuing negotiations on the issue of parttime yeshiva students/parttime workers with these same capable negotiators.
They suggest the IDF study the issue of using more summer camps to fulfill truncated draft tours for these people, less interference in their studies.
Also they mention how it will be easier to live within Department of Education allotments, now that the sensible rationalization of capacity is done.
It is on the topic of foreigners that they positively glow. They inform the readership rumors are correct, all new residents will be Canadian and American Jews, groups with which the Haredi have always had fairly good relations. They assert, far better these people arriving than secular Israelis taking over the buildings.
They mention the Haredi welcome wagon will shift into gear. These new people will not be allowed to simply wander around and get lost. Rabbis will assign a Haredi to each new arrival, to help them find things like stores, bus routes, libraries, clinics, government offices.
These hosts will be asked to refrain from any religious comments; lest they be misunderstood as pushy. They are permitted to give any advice on kosher which might be asked.
They finish by noting that the new arrivals are not a bunch of young drunks. All are people who previously failed the IDF medical, have varying degrees of health problems, definitely not the sort to be howling at 2:00 am.
Somehow, reading all this, I feel more confident. One could have far worse neighbors.
I call up a detailed map, find all three residences are completely surrounded by Haredi neighborhoods. Meaning zero crime.
You could not be safer, unless you are so misguided as to - gasp - drive on the Sabbath. Given the price of cars and gas, I will be bussing and walking.
All right, so how exactly do I make a living? The $64 question. But then, I'd face the same question staying here. The world is considerably less understanding towards its deaf people than to its blind.
It hits me. When I arrive, request a deaf Haredi to be assigned for my orientation, get better advice.
At the medical, the doctor informs me deafness is irrelevent to his terms of reference. He has not been asked to judge my odds on the employment market; merely to certify that I will not be a large drain upon the health care system. And that, I pass, no problem.

Lily 12

A hush falls over the room as the Israeli Ambassador enters the vid.
Uneasy smile, "testing. My friends, today you make history. First public announcement of this; timed to coincide with the USA videoconference. You see, for decades now we have been accused of cherry picking. You know the joke, if you're Orthodox, Master's degree, fit enough for paras."
The audience in Ottawa obligingly laughs, people here don't.
"Well that has to change. Everyone present today has had his or her file checked. You are all qualified, as of now, assuming nothing has happened to you since. If you've acquired a criminal record, forget it. The new medical line is not drawn on IDF standards; but on not being a charge upon the health care system. Anyone here has the option of merely signing the form authorizing another RCMP criminal records check and redoing the medical exam.
"And of course I hear those questions bubbling up. First, where on Earth would I find an apartment, with vacancy rates at 1/10 of 1%?," wicked smile, "as of now, we have vacancies for foreigners. Of late, the IDF and Haredim have negotiated out of court. On the IDF side, there is the very real possibility they'd lose the case, based on precedents going back to Ben Gurion. On the Haredi side, they have cost problems running those yeshivas, with their birth rate shrinking some too.
"Both sides very sensibly compromised. IDF agreed to drop the lawsuit, allow the Haredim draft exemption to stand. Haredi authorities turned over three residential yeshivas, no longer needed with their consolidation ongoing.
"Now let's look at photos. Granted, it's not luxury, but rather good. Yes, we know repainting is needed; and updating of windows. Otherwise, looks pretty good."
It does. You'd easily pay $1,400 for similar bachelor apartments in Toronto.

Lily 11

The Ontario Pornography Control Commission, OntPorn as it is dubbed in the media, is a hybrid. Its public sector function is obvious, regulate cinema and video, according to Federal rules, Criminal Code of Canada, set in Ottawa.
Its resemblance to the private sector is that it is also a profit making venture, collects fees, $500 if your film is approved, $50 if denied. And no, there is no real incentive to cheat and pass everything as the Feds watch it and other Provincial bodies closely.
OntPorn has had many profitable decades. However since the latest Federal election, it has fallen on hard times. Conservatives were unable to attain a Parliamentary majority, needed the fifty seats of the Puritan Peoples' Party to survive.
Forthwith, Appendix A of the Federal Pornography Act was amended, causing OntPorn's revenues to nosedive.
Our city owns a large block of OntPorn shares, listed on the Toronto Stock Exchange. While it is not bankrupt per se, it is incapable of generating any dividends for the foreseeable future. This shortfall must be made up by a combo of municipal tax increases and expenditure cuts.
The Ontario Liquor Control Commission operates in similar fashion; administering Federal rules, but making profits too.
The new Federal rules; hard liquor forbidden; only beer and wine still legal; have slashed OLCC to the bone.
And once again our fair city takes the hit, missing those dividends that used to be.
The Ontario Gaming Commission was not spared. All casinos and bingos were closed, by Federal decree. An online system of ID verification ensures no person may buy more than $10 worth of lotto tickets per week.
And again, our fair city, like many others, takes the financial hit.
Rumors abound at the library. Closure of all branches, leaving only the main downtown one open. Five year moratorium on book purchases. Reduced hours. No more public surfing. $1 fee to check out a book.
At first, cuts are achieved without need of layoffs, though casual employees lose some hours.
Book purchases are quietly dropped, without admitting it to the public.
Surf ration is reduced from one hour to thirty minutes, thus eliminating the need to buy more terminals.
All branches will be closed Monday morning. The Sunday 1:00 pm to 5:00 pm will only remain downtown; no branches will have it.
Later, each branch is reduced to one evening open a week. Different ones, so people can always drive to some branch which is open.
Life settles down. People see the cuts have happened; nothing further expected. Still the mood lingers that it is not a wise time to do either mortgage or car loan.
The local election changes everything. The incoming mayor, a Chartered Accountant, replaces the previous real estate developer.
Ontario Provincial Police are summoned, to determine whether there was actual corruption or merely (?) negligence.
The recently completed city hall has a raft of unpaid bills; hidden away by the previous mayor during the election. Immense cost overruns.
In due course OPP announces no charges will be laid, but that's another story.
In short order, library staff are convened to a Monday morning meeting in the theater in the basement. All except me. There being no ASL interpreter, I will spend Monday morning reading the meeting materials.
It is grim, main branch only remains open, Tuesday to Saturday only.
Since we are Canadian Union of Public Employees members, it will be done strictly by seniority, with no consideration as to which branch you are currently at.
There will be a list for each of: librarians with degree, Tech 2, Tech 1, and helpers.
Run your finger down the list, see if you survive.
I miss the cut by a long ways, many helpers having 20+ years of seniority.
My application to the Toronto Public Library goes nowhere. They too are in the throes of cuts. Just less drastic than ours.
Mother fields the call which comes for me. No, they certainly cannot talk with me, are they aware I am hearing impared? She talks, writes notes and we proceed.
It is the Israeli Embassy in Ottawa. They have been reviewing a number of recent Aliyah application files. I am well almost commanded to attend a meeting. The real meeting will be in Ottawa, but there will be video linkup to the JCC in each of Toronto and here.
I reply that without ASL, I cannot attend. They reply the vid will be closed captioned.
This sets me pondering. They aren't going to all this effort merely to retell people the file has been refused. Does this imply loosening of standards?
I recall a recent Haaretz article, call it up. The census looks bad. Jewish demographics are a disaster, shrinking. West Bank and Gaza Palestinians are irrelevent as they don't vote. But Israeli Arabs do vote, are showing a substantial increase in population.
As I take my seat, I sense peoples' moods, compare myself to others I know. Many are in worse shape than me, I mean in the medical and academic sense.
As we wait I lipread a conversation between two men. "Bet this is all about the census, Arabs increasing like rabbits."
Laugh, "what do you or I care what caused it? Our pensions will go further there."