Nava 7

The dreaded Sabbath approaches. Now I sort of suspect Mum is at least partly suspicious that yes I eat some stuff at Naomi's. However on the Sabbath, this is outa the question, I am forbidden to set foot in that treyf house.
Naomi's parents don't allow her out, she's expected to hang around and be company for visitors.
How on earth am I gonna pass all that time with Mum? Can't possibly talk with her or she'll catch wise there's stuff I don't know that I should.
However my fears prove groundless. She talks on the phone a lot, (forbidden on Sabbath), and reads the paper.
Sunday morning, when all is quiet and most of the world is still sleeping in, Naomi and walk out onto the Ogden Point Breakwater.
Weather is pleasant, we chat, stare out at the ocean.
"You know Naomi," I say cheerfully, "I don't like your idea of moving to another city to be secular. Surely here is big enough to be so and it's a nice place."
Rueful smile, "you hit on the weak nerve in my theory. Cost of living over in Vancouver is atrocious."
Then I recall her argument, "and since Judaism is two-speed anyhow, means you'll have lots of company, anyone less prosperous, me for example."
"Ah, so you are sort of hoping to stay in Victoria?"
"Absolutely, love it."
"Funny one you are. I halfway thought you'd want to go to England or Ireland on some excuse."
"Nah, past history. Not a thing on earth I can do about all that stuff. Eamon is dead, meaning the farm gets inherited by someone else. Nava is who I am, whether I choose to like that or not."
She looks out to sea a long moment, then turns to me, "cool, if you stay in Victoria, then I will too. Also, let's stay friends regardless if we come out different sides of the secular-religious thing. Deal?"
Without hesitation, I reply, "deal."
She grins, "come for lunch, she won't mind, it's not the Sabbath."
On the way we trip over Rick sitting on the steps of his townhouse condo. Now that he doesn't hafta look over his shoulder afraid of his buddies, we have a pleasant chat.
(end of novella)

Nava 6

As teacher drones on about some triviality, my mind spins. As of the point you join the British Army, you are simply an Irishman in a Brit suit. Once you first come under fire for real, you become two people. You're still an Irishman, don't lose that. But now you've graduated, become a real Brit, in the eyes of yourself and your comrades.
Is the same mechanism at work here? Does fighting about Judaism make you more of a Jew? At this point, it would be hard to argue that I even qualify, yet look at my reaction to Naomi, when I felt she was committing sacrilege.
Then I realize, whatever Naomi says may be unimportant to me, but vitally so to her. After all, how do you become a boxer if you can't find a sparring partner? Do not two Jews learn Torah better by arguing it after reading? How good a soldier would you be, if your training had not included live fire exercises?
So, without me, or to be more accurate someone like me, Naomi doesn't have a chance to mature. I have a responsiblity to her, to provide approximately equal opposition and forego using the big guns of adulthood in argument.
Recess time, Naomi flashes a wicked smile, "Sarge, you're smart, but nowhere near as well-informed as you'd like to believe."
Obvious she's trying to provoke me, I just grin, "how so?"
"Your argument has one fatal flaw, that is two-speed Judaism. For the very well to do, the full meal deal, hang out with others of their kind, without having to put up with tiresome riffraff. And yet, as you so capably point out, there exists the need for a periodic email blitz. That's where that big data base comes from, can be relied to write to their MP."
I grin, "did anyone ever tell you you're supposed to make it last? No point leading with the nukes. Could have danced me in a merry circle, then KO'd me? Have you no sense of fun? Of sadism?"
By now, we're both laughing.
She says, "to paraphrase you, you are now surrendering?"
I nod.
"For my next argument," she grins, "I will prove to you how sexist Judaism really is."
"I see and who among the religions is fit to cast that first stone? Certainly not Muslims, they're even worse. Most of the Christian denominations are pretty bad. Hindus, Buddhists, join in enthusiastically on that. So, you name a good example."
"Caught you again, oh yes, I did. I attack Judaism, you defend, knee jerk reaction. Gotta grow up Nava, look at facts."
I counterattack, "Ok then, let's look at Muslims and Christians. One could argue that they have a lot less experience, less time to work out the kinks. Judaism on the other hand, has a lot more centuries, so is more to blame if it fails to deliver."
A look of pre-combat joy comes over her, "oh yeah, right on. So you can switch back and forth, and better than the original Nava did."
I nod.
"So then Nava, just who exactly are you to criticise Judaism? I have more seniority, therefore I have more right to criticize."
"Is that a fact now? Last I checked, Nava was two days older than Naomi? You aren't saying, you caught up? Even passed her?"
She concedes, "ok, that part is a bit confused. We won't use the argument of seniority on each other. Now back to the argument on sexism..."
Rick walks by, cheerful tone, "is that all you two do, argue with each other?"
I give a cheeky smile, "you should be happy we do."
Perplexed look, "why?"
"Well you see, everyone only has so much argument inside. More I use on her, less I'll have for you."
"You've lost me there."
"You know for a fact that's what boyfriends and girlfriends do. You'll see soon enough."
He blushes, retreats in disarray.
Naomi flashes a wicked smile, "there is a sadistic side to you. You probably scared him away from girls for the next ten years."
"Go on, more like a day."
"If he grows up to be gay, be all your fault oh yes oh yes."
As the bell rings to end recess, I realize, somehow or other, in this short time, Naomi and I have become better friends than any of my erstwhile Army buddies.
Rick still follows fairly close as we go in, so I'm guessing I didn't scare him off for a decade.
I give a wink, see the comprehension on his face. Now he knows I was just having fun, winks back.
On the way to her place, Naomi starts the argument as to whether manga comics are good or bad for the Jews. To me it seems almost pointless, unless an actual book has an anti-semitic theme, what difference does it make?
I start to suspect her secularism is partly for show and partly to help her make up her own mind. After all, if she had 100% decided, what need for any future argument?

Nava 5

Eager to change the topic to save me embarrassment, Naomi says, "tell me, ever run into problems, an Irishman in the British Army?"
"Oh yeah, that's why you wear civvies going home on leave. Everyone and his dog says I shouldn't aid the Brits. I reply when the morons in Dublin create sufficient jobs in my area, I'll stop."
"That should shut them up."
"That and the para look that scared the bejaysus outa Rick."
She laughs, "I like you, good sense of humor. My question meant more with Brit colleagues."
"Truly the last of an Irishman's worries. Not enough Brits join, yet they don't wish to start a draft. Any Irishman who qualifies is more than welcome."
"Ever run into the Col Blimp sort of officer?"
"You watch too many movies. The few of them around surround themselves with Sgt's of similar personality. The vast majority, open to new ideas and information, seek similar Sgt's."
Comprehension washes over her, "ah ha, now I understand, suppose Col Blimp had gone through the window instead of you. I could find it much more difficult dealing with you."
I laugh, "understatement of the year."
"At first Nava, I stuck with you out of sense of duty. Gone way beyond that, now I see you as a real friend."
I'm touched, "why thank you. Tell me, your Mum pester you about going to Israel between high school and university?"
Dry look, "not! She says that's only for people looking for status."
"Ah ye-ah, mine sort of indicated that."
She leans forward, "your promise, what I tell you, you don't tell a soul?"
"You have my word."
"I let her rattle on about whatever. I either ignore it or vaguely agree or disagree, so guess my real plan."
"Come on, don't think you can snow a Sgt. Once you graduate, gonna leave town, claim there are no 'real' jobs in a city this size. Once you get wherever, be totally secular."
Crestfallen look, "I really give away that many clues?"
I nod.
"I wonder, if my Mum can pick up the clues as easy?"
"Rather doubt it. Anything, dope, vandalism, sex, parents are always dead last to know."
She nods, "yeah, from what I hear. Your Mum made noise about summer camp?"
My heart flip flops. The thought of being incarcerated with all those tedious
"Not to worry," she continues, "too late this year anyhow. I'm guessing your Mum didn't have sufficient money, else she'd be pushing it."
I breathe a silent sigh of relief.
Wildly wicked grin, "you'll never guess how I dodged it?"
"I give up."
"Told her, as a Jew, I find the words 'camp' and 'camping' totally repulsive."
"Ah the historical allusion, how'd she take that?"
"I detect a note of judgmentalism there Nava."
"I'm sorry."
"How else can she take it? She uses it on me, surely I'll use it back."
"I see, so I should keep that line as an absolute last resort."
"Nava, don't worry none. See years ago, was so cheap, everyone who had parents above the rank of dishwasher had to face the bogeyman sooner or later. Now, become so expensive, most of the middle class can't afford."
It dawns on me, "isn't that a contradiction in terms? I've heard there's a strong percentage correlation between attending a Jewish summer camp and behavior later in life. Such as how observant, even basics like how many marry out."
"So, to sum up Nava, it's like drilling a hole in the bottom of their own ship."
"Naomi, did you realize you used 'their'? More careful talk would be 'our'. Between you and me, I couldn't care less, we're friends. But think of your Mum picking up clues."
Blush, "point well taken, thanks Nava. And now I fire the torpedo into your ridiculous argument. You haven't twigged on yet, all they really want as members is the very prosperous."
This shocks me, where on earth do ten year olds get that cynical? Three quarters of Brit Army Sgt's aren't that cynical. Uneasily I reply, "let's just say I will think on that more later."
"You do that Nava. Also give some thought to whether you should use 'their' or 'our."
"Still Naomi I find it curious. Now take the super rich, that cuts a lot of ice on things like donations to projects in Israel or reroofing of the synagogue. Some things you need numbers for. Take politics for example, stuff in the Parliament or Legislature. What counts there is how many voting age supporters you can point to. And I understand Muslims aren't into alienating their less prosperous members."
"I caught you, admitting you're a Jew after all, arguing on their side."
"Hey wait a minute. Am I not allowed to speak in the sense of a reporter? Of a neutral observer? Just because I say politics exists, doesn't mean I've picked sides, or will."
The bell rings. Naomi grins, "this is fabulous, much better than the original Nava. Resume our duel at recess?"
"You're on."

Nava 4

Next morning as Naomi and I walk to school, I tell her of room cleaning.
She looks uneasy, "ah, let's hope your Mum doesn't tell mine. You know how my room is."
As it turns out, Naomi need not have worried. Given that both women see themselves as so superior to the other, not a lot of communication happens.
Rick intercepts us as we arrive, shy tone, "so, how'd you like it, with me in goal?"
"That one shot," I reply, "I was positive it was a goal. Yet you stopped it, good for you."
He beams, then seeing buddies arrive, rushes off to join them.
After school I raise an eyebrow, "cherry cheesecake? Isn't that pushing it?"
Smirk, "we're Jews, allowed to get a bit fat."
Just a minute now, this is the same person who yesterday said, "don't get all Jewish on me."
What of the apparent contradiction? Ambivalence, sometimes she is, sometimes not, does everyone experience that?
"You feeling ok Nava?"
"Oh yeah sure."
"Look, no big deal, I'll give you half the size, half the calories too."
Mum has an unusual expression, proclaiming a mayhem topic incoming.
"So dear," she says, "tell me, have you give any thought to the year between high school and university?"
Now I ain't gonna touch that with the proverbial ten foot pole.
"More specifically, have you thought of spending it in Israel?"
I believe I'd prefer root canal, however can't tell her that, "so what are the pros and cons?"
"The cons, as you put it, are fairly limited. Main one is just slowing down whatever you choose to study by a year. Also the side effect of tending to lose some secular friends over it. You won't lose religious friends over it. The pros, mature some, make a wiser choice of what to study, plus whatever religious merit, and status."
I raise an eyebrow.
"But of course, I mean, wouldn't you want to marry a more serious type of person? Meet higher status of people after that."
I stare off into space in sheer disbelief, I believe I'd rather be stranded on the tundra of the Ungava Peninsula during the dead of winter or washed away by a tsunami or trek to the source of the Nile with Donald Duck in charge of the expedition.
Why me? What on earth did I ever do to deserve this? So I counterattack, "I have a burning desire to be a stock broker. Meaning a year will cost me $490,000."
She gasps, "come on, surely not the first year, that's more like the tenth."
"But then," I clarify, "it'd cost me say $250,000 and those nominds in Ottawa $240,000. Surely they'd just blow it on sheer frivolity anyhow."
By now she's laughing. I reflect this is not the first time in history an officer has been diverted from a serious action by a joke.
I open my lunch. Naomi rolls her eyes, "is she a bore or what? My Mum says kosher is no excuse for boring."
I shrug, "weren't you the one who told me I had remarkable luck of the draw? Right now I could be sitting in Bangladesh, eating nothing but rice."
She laughs, "I like you, exactly like two Jews to argue. Gather two together, you get three opinions."
I laugh.
"Still," she says, "I imagine it beats British Army chow."
"Yes and no. Her food, supper and lunches, beats a forward operating base. Resta the time, a real base, got her beat, and by a long shot."
She flashes a wicked smile, "would she be ticked to hear that!"
I shrug, "last I recall, you and I are friends. Friends don't engage in blackmail."
Laugh, "I didn't mean that, just if she overhead you."
I blush hotly, "hey look, I'm sorry."

Nava 3

Naomi and I sit together at lunch.
She grins, "I don't believe it, caught you paying attention."
"Well, always admired the Trudeau era. Met various Canadian chaps out on tour, they got me interested, read up on it some."
She gasps, "soldiers talk of Trudeau and history?"
"It isn't all booze and racetrack."
She blushes, "sorry, guess that came out wrong."
Eager to let her off the hook, I change the topic, "so what do you make of Rick?"
"I was watching, while you're reading. Now that he sees the more confident reader, if anything, he likes you more."
"So what happens next?"
"Not a lot, he's still too young and shy to ever proclaim he's your boyfriend. But, he will chat about school a lot."
"Suits me fine, more I learn, easier to fit."
He sits at a table at a distance, chatting with his friends, but still surreptiously glancing in my direction.
Naomi drops her voice, "so what unit were you in?"
"Mosta the time 1 Para; that's First Battalion, Parachute Regiment."
"Where all did you tour?"
"Ulster, Cyprus, Iraq, Belize, Chad, Germany, Sudan, Guyana, Bosnia, Afghanistan, New Guinea and a survival course in your very own High Arctic."
"Where?"
"North of Eureka, that's the weather station at 80 degrees latitude."
Loud gasp, then a chuckle, "so if Fate had dropped you in Saskatchewan, it wouldn't be the end of your world?"
"Still, I do like Victoria."
"After all that, doesn't it seem a let down, listening to tedious teacherdom?"
I realize I'm on the edge of crying. That's something I just don't do. So I say, "them's the breaks."
She must sense I'd prefer a changed topic, so, "since neither you nor I do much homework, after school, my place, we'll watch TV."
"Cool, I'd like that."
"In a way, glad you came along. The original Nava was getting so totally boring, always watching the same stuff. Now's a chance to switch around a bit, you'll like that?"
It's a good act, but not good enough. Obvious it's the other way around. So I just smile easily, "I'm open to experimenting, I'd like to watch the stuff you like."
Hopeful tone, "you mean that?"
"Why not? Anything I learn at this point will be helpful."
"Well, in that case, I know some fun cartoons, based on Japanese manga. Neat soap opera, you'll get to like the characters."
It is the honest truth that I like manga, having read it in comic book form a lot. When I tell her this, her relief is palpable.
Rick succeeds in passing our table on his way out, "we're playing soccer at afternoon recess. Can you come watch?"
I smile, "sure, sounds like fun."
He seems relieved, then moves along quickly, lest his buddies think he's fraternising with the enemy.
The instant we arrive at Naomi's we fire up the TV, cartoons will start in about 3 minutes.
She flashes a wicked grin, "come on, let's check the fridge, think there's leftover chocolate cake."
"I don't know. This morning before you arrived, Mum warned me not to eat anything here, said it's treyf."
She laughs, "don't get all Jewish on me. The original Nava never bothered to obey. Rinse your mouth after, I'll even use a toothpick on you, just in case she gets suspicious."
"But aren't I supposed to keep a slender figure for Rick?"
Groan, "oh grow up, gonna be several years yet before he publicly proclaims himself to be your boyfriend. Meantime enjoy."
As we settle in with cake and lemonade, she grins, "wanna know what's so funny? My Mum says the very same about your house, treyf, don't eat there."
We both laugh.
As it turns out her soap of choice is Coronation Street. I'm ecstatic discovering this, as it was my favorite TV show in the Army.
Yes I reflect, my first school day went remarkably well.
Sitting with Mum at supper, she asks, "how was school today?"
"Fine."
"And how's Naomi?"
"Fine."
"Got any homework?"
"Done."
"Feeling ok after the fever?"
"Fine."
Long pause, "Nava, are you avoiding me?"
"No."
"You usually talk more."
I could say I don't feel well, but that would only delay the inevitable. Besides, what can I say without arousing her suspicion? So I counterattack, casual tone, "that's for little kids."
By the look on her face, I scored a direct hit. Here on in, any uncommunicativeness will be seen as the budding diva, the kid growing up.
Give her credit, she comes up swinging fast, "right, since you're not a little kid, time to take more responsibility. Clean up that room."
Cheerfully, I reply, "sure Mum, right after supper."
She feels my forehead, then shakes her head.
Truth is, I'm glad she ordered it. It is a tip, however I was afraid of making any changes.
She enters just as I'm finishing up. Her look, definitely traumatized. This is clearly beyond what she expected, even in her wildest dreams.

Nava 2 novella of 2 schoolfriends

Next morning, Naomi shows to walk with me to school.
"Very nice scenery," I remark, "makes me think of England or Ireland."
"In many ways, you got the Cadillac. Victoria is the nicest climate in Canada, some cities experience minus 40 degrees. Safe neighborhood, well-to-do, not some blighted inner city. A Mum who is mostly ok, if a bit pushy. But I'm betting none of that stuff even registers with you, not at all. Still hung up on not being a guy anymore, right?"
"Ye-es."
"Friend, stop and think of how you really lucked out, even there. We're ten, gives us several years to figger it out, that's you and me both. Now, just imagine, right now, you were 16."
I groan aloud.
She smiles, "see, learning already."
"Truth is Naomi, I hated school first time around; can't even imagine seeing it again."
"Again, think of this, since school takes little or no effort, gives you time to do more important stuff, like figger out life."
As we arrive at the schoolground, a boy comes over. Sticks out his tongue, then, "ugly ugly ugly."
I grab his collar. My faces inches from his, I give him my best hate stare. "Sunshine you got five seconds to apologize, else I stick your schoolbag where the sun don't shine."
He apologizes profusely, then I let him go.
As he runs off, I laugh, tell Naomi, "that's how you handle it."
Sad smile, "fraid you and I are gonna hafta have a talk. Don't you realize, he likes you? Uh make that past tense, used to. Just too shy to come out and say."
I gasp, "Surely you're joking?"
"No, in fact he was the only one in school who did. But cheer up, maybe find someone when you get to junior high."
Naomi and I take our seats, side by side. My attention is caught by a tourist map of Belize on the wall. I imagine the teacher saw a different part of Belize than I did.
I'm brought back to the here and now by Naomi's light kick on my leg.
Teacher says, "come on now Nava, don't be shy. We all have to take a turn. Come up front."
I do.
She hands me a children's fiction book, points, "from here to there."
It's a very ordinary story, I have no idea how anyone is reacting as my eyes are on the text.
As I finish, look up, I'm surprised to see looks of absolute awe painted on all except Naomi.
Teacher says quietly, "very good Nava, you must have been practising."
I nod.
Kind smile, "big improvement. From here on, you get a turn every week, don't want you to lose that touch."
I sit.
"And now class, let's do math."
Everyone except me groans. Naomi's kick clues me in and I join in.
At recess time, Rick, the same boy, comes up to Naomi and me. Very awkward smile, "hey look Nava, I'm real sorry."
Ever helpful Naomi jumps in, "oh yes, Rick, Nava and I were talking. You see she's not herself, was sick all holiday. She wants to apologize too."
I catch her drift, smile, "Rick, I'm so sorry I came on like a storm trooper. You see, my Mum gave me heck and that was on my mind. I know you were only playing around."
Look of relief, "and is that teacher ever a bore in math!"
In no time, we're talking ok.
The bell rings, we start inside, him following me closely.
Teacher starts in on history, the era of Pierre Trudeau and its lasting impact, even to the present.
And gradually, I start to realize something. I am the recipient of great good fortune getting this gig. Gives me all the time in the world to figger stuff out. Just imagine I were, right now, a thirty year old employee of External Affairs. The world would be expecting a lot more outa me; maybe more than this imposter could provide.

Nava 1

Supper is boiled bacon and potatoes, and tea, cooked on my peat stove. After, a fast towel bath, with water heated on the same stove. A real bath will have to wait for Sunday Mass, just too much water to heat all the time.
Then I put on clean clothes and head for the local. Very end of the bar are two empty stools.
Bartender greets me, "Evening Eamon."
"Evening Padraig."
"Usual?" (he means a half pint of Guinness)
I nod.
As he pours, he asks, "so how's haying going?"
"Great, third crop this year. Just two more days and it should be dry enough to start cutting again."
He grins, "well, that's more time to cut peat. Reckon one can never have too much of that."
I nod, how true!
Most of the bar and one nearby table is taken up with the fraternity of ex-construction workers in Blighty, mostly London. Their stories get tedious, endless drinking and thumping "nancy boys".
I take out my ten pack of cigs, fire up one. Now anywhere east of the Shannon River that would be an act inviting the attention of the "Gestapo". Here we got our own ways. Tedious laws like bar closing hours tend to be honored in the breach, not in the observance.
A nearby table produces an interesting conversation to follow. And they are talking loud enough it ain't eavesdropping. Two lads from here, members of the British Army, home on leave, chatting with pals. Topic is the recent Cyprus tour of the First Battalion, Royal Greenjackets. It comes as no surprise that their tales of mayhem contrast sharply with the official UN line that all is well there.
Johnny, the local bootlegger, enters, sits near to me.
Bartender asks, "usual?"
Johnny nods. A pint of Guinness and glass of whisky are prepared.
Johnny grins, "so Eamon, how's haying? Like a change of scenery?"
"Be another two days before I can get back at it, been cutting peat. What you got in mind?"
Lowers his voice, "going to Ennis for a pickup."
"Thought it was Galway?"
Laugh, "cops are getting to know me and my car too well there. Arranged to pick up in Ennis this time. Come for the ride, we can play the horses together."
"How long you gone?"
"Two days."
I do the math. The max I can sink into this venture is 100 Euros. So, two nights in B&B, some food and at least a bit of drink. Leaves zilch to bet with. Pointless to go.
I blush, "Sorry Johnny, hafta pass, financial constraints."
"Go on, I didn't say we pay accommodation, it'll only be food. My uncle has a flat there, away on a short trip. I have permission."
I redo the math, decide with a bit of luck, I'll have a capital of 50 to bet with. Yeah, I can make that last two days. I grin, "let's do it then." After all, I don't own livestock, the hay I cut is for sale.
Waves his hand expansively, "gonna have one more round for the road, then we'll go. Want me to go to your farm, pick up gear?"
"Don't bother, if I buy a toothbrush and ten pack, I'm ok."
Well, four rounds later, in a hilarious mood, we part, after dark. We drive cross The Burren, a backroad no cop on earth would waste his time on. By the light of the quarter moon it seems eirie. Like we're the only two people on the lunar surface.
A loud explosion and sudden veering of the car tells me a tire has blown. It all seems to be in slow motion. In a perfectly calm tone, I say, "Johnny, suppose it might be wise to steer around that telephone pole?"
"Did anyone ever tell you boyo, when a car is airborne, it don't answer to its steering wheel?"
And so it is, we are both roaring with laughter when the car collides directly. Now one of those tedious laws we ignore in these parts is seat belt. In this case, it might have been wise to obey it. As in, I'm going through the windscreeen.

I wake with a throbbing headache. Not ready to open my eyes and deal with the world yet, I ponder. Go on, only had four. How would I have a headache? Right, the window.
Finally I decide that, if I really did go through it, then I feel remarkably good.
I open my eyes and discover myself to be in a bedroom done up schoolgirl fashion.
A face I don't recognize, but bearing a look of desperation, says, "Nava, talk to me, say something, anything."
Truth is, I don't know what to tell her.
She holds up one finger asks, "how many fingers?"
"One."
"And now?"
"Two."
She feels my forehead, "ok now, tell me your name."
"Eamon O'Riley."
She groans, "still a fever. Best to stay in bed. I imagine you picked up that name off the TV movie, it stuck with you. Just rest."
I hear footsteps, the closing of a door, the ringing of a portable or cellular.
Obviously unaware I can hear, she says, "well, good news and bad. Good is, least she woke up. Bad is, still a fever."
Pause as the other speaks.
"Oh yeah, you got that right, Delirious with a capital D. Strange stuff beyond belief. Endless comments on 15 years of various tours in the British Army. Places I'd find hard to find on a map, wonder how she did. And in language that would make a sailor blush. Horse race bets, hookers, drinking binges. Farming in Ireland. Some kind of road accident."
Pause.
The she laughs in a wicked tone, "and is she going to be ticked when she discovers the fever burnt up her whole Easter vacation, back to school with nary a break."
I groan inwardly. Go on, only one sensible course of action. This is a nightmare, it will pass, let it do so.
However, when I next awake the nightmare is still present. Climbing outa bed, I stare at the dresser mirror. Surely not!
And yet, the image in the mirror flawlessly executes every move I do.
She enters carrying a tray, "heard you up. You look much better, try and eat a bit."
As I do, she asks, with deadpan face, "remember anything of the dreams?"
Deciding ignorance is the best strategy, "no."
"Amazing, absolutely amazing. Now all along I believed you had no talent for history or geography stuff at school. And yet, I've looked up every time and place you mentioned. All is accurate, in clinical detail and then some."
I nod.
"And so, now I know this, I expect better marks in future. And all that horse race talk, I learned something else. You know much more math than you've been letting on."
Oh no.
"Sandbagging, that's what you've been doing. Let me assure you, as of school starting tomorrow, I expect real effort, real marks."
Jaysusmaryandjoseph, does it get worse? That's when I spot the Star of David on her necklace and realize it could get lots worse.
The doorbell rings and she leaves. A minute later, she calls, "it's Naomi dear, come on out."
Naomi and I are left alone in the living room as Mum(?) vanishes.
Quiet tone, Naomi says, "I don't see one ounce of recognition in those eyes. You don't even know who I am."
I give a goofy smile, "Naomi of course."
She grabs my collar, face inches from mine, quiet tone, "look moron, don't gimme that, you heard your Mum give the name. But still you don't recognize me. So, tell me the name of our school."
I squirm, realizing she has me pinned.
The very quietly, "I can see it in your eyes. She died and you ended up taking over. I would presume without your knowledge."
I nod.
"You have a hard look, totally different eyes. I'm guessing you've seen lotsa death."
I nod.
"Well friend, lemme tell you something. You don't get off easy, stuck with me. We're the only two Jews in James Bay Elementary and we da** well stick together."
I don't know whether this should make me relieved or upset.
"So tell me, how was it you died?"
"Sheer foolishness, ignoring seat belt laws."
Look of wicked glee, "after all and everything, that did you in?"
I nod.
"Nothing heroic, just that?"
Again I nod.
She shrugs, "well we're friends anyhow, detail can wait. I gather your Mum is right ticked with you, oh yes oh yes."
I blush, nod.
At that moment Mum emerges with a sadistic look and an obvious elementary math book.
Naomi turns to leave, I don't blame her for that.
"No, don't go," Mum says, "stay with us as we do some math."
It may look grim, but I've figured an angle. Blow about a fifth of the questions. It does the trick, turns that look of dead certitude into doubt.
After half an hour, Mum retreats in disarray and Naomi and I head outside for air.
She warmly wraps an arm round me, "work of art. If your Mum had figured, how long would it be before mine did?"
"You mean?"
"Bingo, you and I are guilty of the same sin, total laziness in school.
At that moment, I realize how lucky I am. Better a buddy and ally than not.
Her face takes a serious look, "you seem remarkably capable of outmaneuvering the enemy, where'd you learn?"
"British Army."
"Rank?"
"Sgt."
She grins, "cool, reckon you the equal or better than the original Nava in the game of dodging tedious teacherdom."
The word "tedious" touches me. Whenever I hear it, I know a kindred soul is likely nearby.
She grins, "just remember to do up seatbelts."
We both laugh.

Malka 2

On the metro ride home, I end up sitting near to Karen's boyfriend #3. Absolutely no question, he looks at me with a palpable dislike. His expression conveys I am akin to something he'll hafta scrape off his shoe after a moment's carelessness.
Oh come on now, would such a man actually choose to pick up Karen in the first place? He certainly is good looking, must have at least some choice.
Gradually an explanation occurs to me. See I look Jewish, triggering his knee jerk reaction of hate stare.
I'll bet he hasn't figured out Karen is Jewish yet. Should be a lively conversation when that happens.
I've just put on my pyjamas when Karen calls. Seems she and #3 had a long heart to heart chat. I brace myself, surely this is it, the big discovery.
But oh no, their chat was on S&M (Sadism and Masochism).
I groan inwardly. Surely S&M fans are nuts; to do so with a Nazi would be more nuts yet.
Hoping a tremor doesn't appear in my voice, I ask over-casually, "so ah who does the S and who the M?"
"We're taking turns. See I've been looking for a guy for S&M forever. And he admits he likes life's extreme experiences."
I'll bet he does.
After we hang up, I stare out the window, lost in thought. Soon however my thoughts rally. Combining one coffee house conversation on the theory of S&M with a limited knowledge of fitness, I realize endorphins are involved.
The body's natural feel good drug. How you feel so good after a brisk walk in the fresh air. Runner's high. S&M is the same drug.
And since both will be feeling it, I'm guessing they're hooked on each other in no time. That is, if you assume they don't make the big discovery quickly.
Chortling with wicked glee at the sheer perversity of Fate, I turn out the light and go to bed.
With Karen I have a reliable but not infallible barometer.
See the only way I hear from her is if things are going badly, she's changing a direction or the odd occasion she feels guilty for ignoring me. I'm not allowed to call her as she has a busier life.
And so, if I hear absolutely nothing from her, that usually implies things are going quite well.
Down at the bathhouse, a huge punchup erupts, spilling out into the yard. Journalists being what they are, and it being a slow news day, there were a lot of photos.
And it turns out boyfriend #2 appears in almost a dozen of these.
The police decline to lay charges, as it was clearly a fight by consent and entirely on private property. The bathhouse suspends the lads for two weeks each and that's it.
But still, I really should have heard from Karen. Surely this would trigger at least some angst in her.
Boyfriend #1 calls me, asks to meet in a coffee house. Given he's such a harmless chap and it is a public place, I readily agree.
Grim look, he hands me an envelope, "can you keep this a week, then mail it? She's put my phone on ignore. I don't want her to read this til after I leave town."
"So why me?"
Blush, "my so called friends are all a bunch of practical jokers, wouldn't trust them, but I've met you know you're ok."
"Thanks."
"I just don't understand. Wasn't I a nice guy? We had such nice conversations. But I'm guessing she found someone else." Then he chuckles.
"What's funny?"
"Well maybe it's Fate. Just got an offer from the Army. If I join, guaranteed I get the electronics technician course."
"Cool, that's the Cadillac. So, to paraphrase, even if she did dump you, at least her timing was good."
We both laugh.
I mail it the exact day he requests. And still hear nothing back from Karen. Oh I realize she wouldn't know I mailed it.
But still, if departure of #1 caused any angst, for sure she'd ring.
Naomi thinks it's a huge hoot, how #2 was "outed" in the paper, asks how Karen took it.
I reply I never heard back.
She whistles softly, "ah ha, means only one thing, just totally tied up with some other dude."
The pun "tied up" tempts me to laugh, but I stop myself. I really don't feel like explaining how that's humorous.
Then finally, I spot Karen and #3 at a distance in a metro station. We-ell, at least that's proof one didn't kill the other. And they do seem rather an item.
But still, I find myself wondering if they made the big discovery yet.
Then I shrug, not caring whether anymore. Their business, not mine.
(end of short story)

Malka 1

(short story chronicling an unequal friendship)
I arrive at five minutes to nine, five minutes early. At this hour, no one in line at the counter. I buy vanilla hazelnut coffee, choose a window table.
Idly I wonder how late Karen will be this time. Truth is, I'm getting a bit tired of the occasional Saturday mornings we do coffee.
My time doesn't go to waste. The free paper has a nice story on the Governor-General's trip; she is doing a good job of representing Canada. The student paper, always interesting, catch them before they join the world of corporate cookie cutter journalism.
As Karen arrives, stands in line at the counter, she's talking on her cell. With boyfriend #1 and not quietly.
She sits, nods to me, continues on with her risque conversation.
As she opens her laptop, (this is a wireless hotspot), she's oblivious to the dirty looks coming from the people at the next table.
No sooner does she hang up, than she's dialing the hairdresser, booking an appointment.
I see she's surfed onto Jerusalem Post website. Why exactly does she bother? She hates the journalists there. Why not surf onto Haaretz? At least she would be in the company of political sympathizers.
After calling the hairdresser, she immediately dials boyfriend #2. And no, this is no secret, they are aware of each other.
Still, has she ever thought: when you demand freedom for an open relationship with a man or men, you are implying permission for them to do the same.
Now boyfriend #1 tends to use this freedom in a fairly innocuous manner. I rather doubt that she's aware #2 uses his freedom to frequent gay bathhouses. And often.
Now if she does know, means she's more sophisticated than I give her credit for. If she doesn't know, guaranteed it won't be me telling her. Like kings and queens of old she believes in slaying the messenger when the news is bad.
Hanging up, she turns the laptop so I can see it clearly. Overearnest tone, "look at this, just how insulting can he get?"
I raise an eyebrow, "Karen this journalist stated one of the Haredi neighborhoods in Jerusalem 'resembles an East European shtetl, but with the presence of modern applicances'. How exactly is that insulting? They'd be ecstatic reading that, it's the exact look they aim for. And I know from seeing enough photos, it's true."
Smug superior tone, "as always Malka, you fail to read between the lines, get the true gist. He's saying they all can afford those appliances. Not true, only half can. So, you see, he's your typical capitalist pig, playing off the rich against the poor."
I know better than to argue when I hear that tone. The ringing of her cell saves me from needing a reply. This time, it's someone she knows from the political action committee. Meantime, she taps out a blistering feedback to the Post, shows it to me and sends.
After this call, probably half a minute interlude and boyfriend #1 calls. She should be happy, most women complain men won't call.
Sensing this conversation will last forever, I rise, wave goodbye.
She puts a hand over the phone long enough to say, "we have to do this again. Always fun talking with you."
As the door closes behind me, I ask myself, not for the first time, if it's time to increase my level of self-assertion. As always, I conclude doing so with Karen would be akin to using power of reason upon a charging rhino. Better to just step aside, let the rhino go where he's headed and get on with life.
With my shoulder bag of overnight gear slung, I transfer from metro to the short bus trip needed to arrive at the house of my older sister and brother-in-law. It seems a bit odd, this recent penchant for New Age encounter groups. Quite frankly, neither seems the type.
However, I don't mind babysitting my niece Naomi, age ten, so I never question this.
I arrive just before 11:00 that same Saturday morning. They're choking with impatience, charge out the door with their overnight bags. As I hear the tires squeal unnaturally loud, again my suspicion rises.
Naomi flashes a wicked smile, "what a bunch of flaming hypocrites! Do you actually believe the story of where they're going?"
My knowledge of children is quite limited, not having one. Still instinct says don't lie. Cheerfully, "actually not."
She gives a laugh, "so they didn't fool you either? They think I'm soooo stupid. Their swingers club rents a whole floor in a hotel. That's why they were in such a hurry; get those rooms noon Saturday to 11:00 am Sunday."
"Are you sure dear?"
Smirk, "they got in a right royal dustup last time. Seems Mum caught Dad swinging with a guy. They were yelling at each other so loud, hotel security came up. Said tone it down, people on the floor below are complaining."
I'm tempted to ask how she knows this; decide I really don't want to know that.
She pouts, "Aunt Malka, I've been thinking. Grownups are disgusting. Oh I don't mean you, I mean the rest of them. I'm not sure I even want to grow up."
I sense words just won't cut it; hug her tight. It does the trick, the warmth softens her tension.
After that, we play chess, her beating me honestly two games outa three.
We head to the kitchen to decide what to do about supper. As we start chipping vegetables, she winks, "that coffee friend of yours, Karen, she ever figger that boyfriend is a faggy fruitcake?"
Again I'm not sure I want to know the source of her info. Quietly reply, "my guess is no."
"You know Aunt Malka, trouble with you is you're a pushover, let people walk all over you. If I were you, I'd that Karen's laptop and bash her over the head with it. Only way you'll get her attention."
"That's assault dear. Gotta solve problems in non-violent fashion."
Grin, "oh I know that, just joking. So next time, just take out your palm pilot, right there in the coffee house and send her an email."
Brilliant, why didn't I think of that?
She wraps an arm around me, "with one hand, you tap out email. With the other, talk on your cell, say with me. Then you'd be just like her."
Perish the thought! Rude is rude, even if it's I doing it.
After supper Naomi and I watch TV. Let me rephrase that. TV is so unimportant to me that I don't own one. I merely keep her company, let her choose. I'm unworried what she might choose as brother-in-law asserts he's programmed it child safe.
First chance I've had to think since I got here. What I learned today displeases me. It is, after all, a hypocritical example to set for your child.
Still, I always stop, take a breath, and view it as the devil's advocate. Suppose things are far enough gone between them that this monthly getaway is all that keeps them together. One could argue it's a good thing, staying together for the sake of the child.
But just a minute - am I guilty of anything? Of aiding and abetting?
We-ell, til today I didn't know. Ok, suppose I get on my horse, make a moral issue of it, refuse to babysit. Is that likely to stop them? Hardly - they have bags of money - could easily afford to pay a sitter.
In that case, all that happens is I end up the loser. After all, I do enjoy sharing time with Naomi.
"You feeling ok?" I hear, in a concerned tone.
"Oh yes dear."
"Hey don't worry about any of this crap. You and I are friends. We'll just pretend we don't know."
"All right, sound like a reasonable strategy."
She clicks off the remote. "And since your other friends tend to ignore you, I'm the only one you can talk with, right?"
And so it is we have a pleasant evening.
Just after Naomi goes to bed, my cell rings. It's Karen, boasting of snagging boyfriend #3. I let her talk some, then casually ask who.
I almost swallow the phone, hearing a name mooted around to be one of the neoNazi bigshots.
I wonder if she actually knows. Again, I decide it's never wise to be the bearer of bad news. With all her friends and grapevine, she'll soon hear from someone else.
And is she already does know, is that sick or what?
The sister and brother-in-law return just after noon Sunday, completely wiped and asking if I'll stay a bit and look after Naomi while they nap.
Not wishing to creep around quietly, we adjourn to a nearby coffee house. I get me coffee, her Italian soda and we do Sunday's paper. I'm impressed, she's intelligent, well informed on issues.
I catch a look from a woman at the next table, clearly says, "you must be proud of her."
I nod back, oh yes I am.

Table of Contents

1. Rachel - novella length - entered February 27 to March 6, 2007
coming of age

2. Evelyn - novella - January 16 to February 20, 2007
growing up in Victoria of the future

3. Susan - novella - December 31, 2006 to January 11, 2007
narrator is dragged out of her peaceful life into a conspiracy

4. Deborah - novella - September 25 to October 31, 2006
hubby is abducted by space Aliens

5. Judith - short story - September 15 to 18, 2006
scandal and more of it

6. Karen - novella - September 5 to 11, 2006
the ineptitude of the Canadian Navy leaves narrator shipwrecked

7. Naomi - novella - August 13 to 22, 2006
an Israeli Reservist goes on two star crossed tours of duty

8. Lily - book length - July 4 to August 12, 2006
the scandal wasn't really Lily's fault; still the world has considerable amusement at her expense. no sooner does that fade than physical handicap arrives

9. 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

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

11. Seema - short story - February 6 to 8, 2006
chroncile of one who spends forever in the shadow of others

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

13. 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

14. Romance Novella - December 12 to16, 2005
just imagine the two individuals least likely to grace the pages of a Harlequin

15. Field Commission - 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 tech war

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

17. First Mission - short story - June 20 to 23, 2005
a navigation error leads to being stranded in time; it then proceeds to go downhill even from there

18. 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

19. 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 then duke it out for dominance

20. Green Lake - novella - December 2 to 11, 2004
an Afghan-American US Air Force officer 1,000 years in the future leads a derring do mission into nuclear apocolypse

21. 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

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

23. Jamila - novella - October 1 to 9, 2004
a total outcast decides to end it all. two surprise visitors, one of them Afghan, change that

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

25. Iris - short story - August 25 to 28, 2004
an Irishwoman joins a contingent of Afghans

26. 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

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

28. 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 identical, but definitely not with the characters I invented here.

Profanity - stars **** used
Violence - the minimal amount 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. Goal is entertainment, while keeping all stories suitable for children.

any feedback, mccoyxyz@yahoo.ca
however, do not expect any instant answers as this often unseen a week or more

Rachel 9

After Sunday dinner we're sitting relaxed. Deadpan look Mr Tendler says, "girls, I meant to ask, was it really as bad as you thought it would be?"
Naomi doesn't hesitate, "worse and then a lot more."
"And you Rachel?"
"Truth is, it was an horrendous experience. But not as bad as I'd expected."
"Ah, so have either of you heard of the concept of 20/80?"
"Oh yes," I reply.
He grins, "don't just say yes, tell us what you've heard."
"Wholesalers claim 80% of their sales come from the best 20% of customers. Teachers claim 80% of trouble comes from the worst 20% of students."
"So tell me Rachel, do you think 80/20 could be applied to a student's work?"
"In a sort of way. The first 80% of information is easy to take in. It gets a lot harder as you go, sifting more repetition, finding less new stuff."
He positively beams, "I just could not have said it better myself. So girls, think of this. As long as you aren't aiming for some speciality like history prof or working for the Canadian Jewish Congress, why not stop at 80%? No one expects the lay person, the ordinary citizen to know everything."
Comprehension washes over Naomi, "you mean Dad, it's nowhere near as hard being a Jew as some make it out to be?"
"Bingo honey, can't let excess reading interfere with job or family."
"But you Dad, how is it you read things like A Suitable Boy?"
"Honey, I just have to look around me, see how much problem obsession causes. Better to balance things off with a bit of fun reading."
"But of course Dad, there are people you wouldn't admit that to."
He laughs.
Mrs Tendler turns to me, "so Rachel, what exactly do you think of Maxmilien Aue?"
"We-ell, it would be easy to hate him. But, look at his upbringing, the historical times, he could actually have been worse."
"I must have missed that part, enlighten me."
"During his research, he was actually struggling to get the daily ration increased in concentration camps. Not of course out of any sense of charity, out of a desire to get better life expectancy and more production. And yes, he failed in this due to bureaucratic inertia. But still, he does stop short of being 100% evil."
She grins, "so, plan on reading the adult version when you grow up?"
"Not likely, I do buy into the 80/20 concept."
"Very good, many people end up becoming tedious, pedantic," flashes a wicked smile, "including the author in the full 900 page original."
And now we all laugh.
As it dies down, I ask, "Mr Tendler, I heard you laughing too. I quote 'greatest fictional character ever created' and 'second best depiction of time and place ever done'. So how then can he seem 'tedious pedantic' to you?"
Easy laugh, "ever run across the term 'overkill'?"
"You mean, originally applied to nuclear bombs?"
"Yes, well he did succeed in overkilling some 99% of his readers."

We-ell, the nightmares faded after two weeks. Mostly anyhow.
And the A- on the book report was sure nice, better than I usually get for that stuff.
I reflect that being a Jew and being innoculated with history is roughly akin to preparing for tropical travel, with injections. Some prefer two dozen needles which barely puncture the skin. Others, don't mind the one big bicycle pump and get it outa the way.
I'm prepared to let the whole matter drop, but the world isn't. You see, at school I have acquired a gargantuan status symbol.
Since there is no English childrens' version, in these kids' eyes, it's like I've read Kama Sutra or such.
This matter comes to a head when Nathan transfers to our school into the other Grade 4 class.
He haunts me for days, endlessly asking about the book. Naomi thinks he is working up enough nerve to be my boyfriend, but I disagree. There is no romance in him, it's pure status seeking. And once he has learned the whole plot, he largely ignores me.
In due course, news comes. A cousin of Naomi's happens to be in the same after school Hebrew class as Nathan.
Nathan is parading around his knowledge, pretending to his buddies he's done the whole nine yards, reading the adult book.
I think the thing is a huge hoot; Naomi says I should be offended.
Oh come on, anyone like that, sooner or later they trip over themselves. As of the point those buddies catch wise it's just a lie, he can kiss goodbye to any status he's earned.

Rachel 8

During supper Mr Tendler is in an unusually withdrawn mood. By now I know him well enough, know he's deep in thought as opposed to angry.
As we're done, I say cheerfully, "Mrs Tendler, I'll be glad to feed the dishwasher."
"Thank you dear, you are always so helpful."
I grin, "here at least I have a dishwasher to feed."
Everyone except Himself laughs.
"No, don't go yet," he says quietly, "I've been thinking. Now everyone says a Jew has to be well informed, but that doesn't mean you have to kill yourself in the process. See there is nothing like Les Bienveillantes, it's in a class all of its own. You could read two dozen dreary books and still not learn as much as by reading it."
My skin crawls, I know exactly where he is headed.
"There is no childrens' version in English, might not be for years. Which means Naomi has to read two dozen dreary books instead. Could I ask you a favor Rachel?"
I nod.
"Read and translate aloud for Naomi as you go. Good learning experience for both of you."
"Yes, I could do that," relieved it hadn't been worse.
"That is not fair Dad," Naomi insists, "inflicts two heavy books on me, not one."
"Ok honey, you make the choice freely. It's either do this or else face the two dozen dreary books."
"Da-ad, you really have a nasty way of painting people into corners. Am I right Mum?"
Mrs smiles gently, "you take the free choice honey. But, I'll have you know, your father is right."
I sense Naomi groan inwardly.
He smiles gently, "honey you could read say Browning's 'Ordinary Men', but I'm guessing you'd be lucky to learn a tenth as much. If you are a Jew anyway, why not be an efficient one?"
The silence hangs for all eternity and then some, but probably only a minute of real time. Naomi says quietly, "your promise Dad, if I go through with this, you don't suggest any more books for two years. I have witnesses here, you know."
Indulgent smile, "all right honey, that's how important I feel it is," looks at the calendar, "you have my word, two years from today."
He turns to me, "please, don't start tonight, chances are you won't sleep well. Tomorrow evening is ok."
I raise an eyebrow, "you mean, the Sabbath?"
He gives a loud mock groan, winks, "oh come on, don't tease me like that, I'm not old fashioned. And after all, it is a Jewish topic."
Friday evening we tour with an Einsatzkommando, not just any one, the one which vacuumed Kiev. Saturday morning we're encircled at Stalingrad in the depths of winter. Saturday afternoon, it's off to Auschwitz to do research. And Saturday evening, it's the fall of Berlin, including an ending of stunning betrayal.
Now unless you happen to have spent twelve hours of your weekend in the hospital emergency waiting room, I can guarantee I had a lousier weekend than you.
But you know, give the devil his due, he was absolutely right. I'm left with a sense of having gone up Mount Everest on my first climb. After that, why on earth would you bother with anything else?

Rachel 7

At that moment Mr Tendler comes in, returning from his work as history prof at UVic, University of Victoria. One glance suffices for him to sum up, "ah ha, book reports."
"Yes Dad," Naomi sulks.
With a wicked smile, he picks up Gulag Archipelago, "Naomi honey, you have my heartfelt sympathy."
"Really Dad?"
"Absoutely, that is the most colossal bore I've ever seen."
"Perhaps Dad, you could talk with the teacher?"
"No honey, it'll be a good learning experience for you."
Crestfallen look, "it will?"
"You see honey, at first the book shocks. That of course was the author's intent; to put pressure on the then Soviet government. Sad to say, he didn't know when to stop. Shock fades away, replaced by an overpowering sense of numbness. Continuing down the yellow brick road, this mutates into boredom, which becomes angrier and angrier."
"Ah Dad, wasn't that the author's intention?"
"No honey, not at all. You get angry at the author, for so completely boring you to death. His original hope was you'd be angry at the USSR. But still, it's a good experience for you."
Mr Tendler's eyes fall on my book. A look resembling awe comes over his face, quiet tone, "Rachel, do you realize just how much you've been flattered?"
"Ah flattered?"
"Indeed, your teacher must be confident of your French abilities. Sad to say, I only read the English translation. As well, she'd feel you are capable of dealing with the greatest fictional character ever created and the second best depiction of time and place ever done."
"Really?"
"It's told in first person, makes it that much more compelling. A fictional SS officer, starting the war as a First Lieutenant; ending as Lieutenant Colonel. Now making him gay, a doctorate in law, and a reader of philosophy was a stroke of brilliance. It allows him to detach, stand back much better than most and observe."
"Mr Tendler, I'm shocked, you admiring a Nazi. You should be ashamed."
He laughs easily, "you misunderstand. I did not say I admire Maxmilien Aue. I said he was the single most brilliant creation of a fictional character ever. It's the author I admire. But then, you knew he was Jewish?"
I gasp, "for real?"
"American, largely educated in France. His book did a huge service to Jews overall."
"How?"
"The whole research thing had been hung up on he-did-this and he-did-that syndrome. Endless evidence of acts with almost no understanding of the lives or thinking of the participants. Even apart from that achievement, he showed time and place in the second best manner ever done."
"What comes first?"
"Beyond any doubt, no one on the planet has ever matched Vikram Seth in 'A Suitable Boy', showing 1950 India." Wicked grin, "but just be glad your teacher didn't assign that."
"How so?"
"It's about 1,400 pages. There is no childrens' version. You see the original adult version, being an Indian creation and hence more prudish, was already suitable for children."
Everyone laughs.
He winks at me, "still, let's just keep that our secret."
"How so?"
"Let's just say a whole lot of Jews would be hugely sniffily offended if you state a non-Jewish book came first. That's stuff you'd only tell close friends."
I feel honored, almost like I've become a family member.

Rachel 6

Mrs Tendler is always home quite early, being a stockbroker in a financial building downtown. Here in Victoria we're three hours behind Toronto, and her hours of work are set by the Toronto Stock Exchange.
She breezes in just as we're unpacking school stuff.
"What's this?" she asks, picking up Naomi's book and mine.
"Our book reports Mum," Naomi replies utterly deadpan.
"I see, and what is your opinion of this?"
"Come on Mum, we're only ten, shouldn't hafta read this heavy."
"You mean heavy in language usage, heavy in content or both?"
"Both."
Mrs Tendler turns to me, "and your view Rachel?"
First, I may as well be honest. Second, I have a duty to back my friend. "Ma'am, if I were you, I'd be sending a letter of protest. First to the teacher, if that fails to deliver, then to the principal."
She smiles, obviously warming up to debate, "ah ha, you do have opinions after all. So, let's hear them, why should I be protesting?"
"First, we know the moral reputation of Quebec, to be polite, somewhat looser than English Canada." I open the book, show her the Quebec endorsement, "now just because Quebec accepts this as suitable for children, no proof the rest of Canada would."
She now has the look that proclaims she's hugely enjoying this, "I see, and why would the rest of Canada object? Wild perverted sex?"
"Well ah no, Teacher said the sex content had been removed."
"All right, why then do you object to the book on moral grounds?"
"There's murder in it."
She actually rolls her eyes. Then, recovering her composure, "tell me Rachel, with your Mum having so many problems, has she ever got around to explaining the importance of history?"
"Ah well no, mostly she just tells me what chores to do."
"And she doesn't ask much about school?"
"No."
"Rachel, out there in the goy world, they have things considerably easier. Far less social pressure to be charitable; leaves them more money to indulge themselves. Far less pressure to be involved in political action; leaves them more time for their hobbies. Now, unless you plan on joining them, you'll have to fit into our world. It is the duty of every adult Jew to fully understand history. Any right wing resurgence is to be dealt with politically, not ignored. I agree with your teacher, you must read the book."
I groan inwardly, then counterattack. Pointing to Gulag Archipelago, I say, "this isn't Jewish history."
She laughs, "ah ha, thinking of being a lawyer when you grow up? Rachel, listen, any group doing murder, even if it involves other groups, always sooner or later decides to include Jews, if any are available. So yes, Naomi must read the book."
Naomi's look says told-you-so.

Rachel 5

We return from recess to find a huge stack of books on Teacher's desk. With a smile that I've come to associate with invariable bad news, she starts, "rest of the afternooon will be a study period, so get that homework done. Reason, I'm handing out the books I've chosen for each of you to report on. And oh yes, I'm sure all of you will have questions or comments."
As my turn comes, my hand shakes when I reach out to take "Les Bienveillantes" by Jonathan Littell. "Ma'am," I say uneasily, "that isn't a childrens' book. I've heard Naomi's parents' friends talk about it."
"I see, and what do they say?"
"Not only an excess of blood and gore, but even homosex and incest."
She laughs, "did it occur to you they were speaking of the adult version? The full 900 page original? This is only 200 pages."
"Oh."
She opens the cover, "there, see that paragraph, in English and French? What does it say?"
"Endorsed by the Quebec Department of Education as suitable for children. Still, does the British Columbia Department have the same view?"
"They don't review it, trust the Quebec assessment, can't afford to review every French book. And oh yes, I can assure you it's been vacuumed clean of homosex and incest, and the blood and gore content has gone down, some anyhow. It's the children fun version. You tour with an Einsatzkommando, get encircled at Stalingrad, do research inside a concentration camp and see up close and personal the fall of Berlin."
"With all due respect ma'am, that does not sound child friendly to me."
"Rachel I wouldn't give it to you if I didn't think you capable. You have done a year plus a summer of French Immersion. Have you ever heard the saying - use it or lose it?"
At this point I realize it's hopeless to argue.
"Rachel, look at the bright side. When you grow up, see how much your options expand by being fully bilingual, you'll look back and thank me for today."
That I rather doubt, however I have ceased to argue.
A few minutes later, Naomi sits down with the childrens' version of "Gulag Archipelago."
I flash a wicked smile, "consider yourself lucky she gave the English version and not the Russian original."
"Smart ass," Naomi says, sticking out her tongue, "at least you get something with some life in it. I've heard this thing is as deadly dull as oatmeal."
As we walk home, Naomi says, in a depressed tone, "hey look Rachel, I know I promised to give you the blow-by-blow account (pardon the pun) of my interview with that silly guidance counsellor. Can we leave it til a later time? I just can't manage now."
"Ye-ah, I hear you, bigtime. What on earth are your parents gonna say when they find out the books we got?"
She pulls a sour face, "they'd be proud, real proud. A sign we're growing up."
I groan inwardly, wondering, not for the first time, whether adulthood is truly all it is cracked up to be.

Rachel 4

At recess time, Naomi says casually, "so, how'd it go?"
"Ok."
"Care to be a little more specific than that? Did she succeed in beating up on you enough you told her about the Foreign Legion?"
I blush, "ah yeah."
"And so?"
"She kind of hinted around that I would possibly change my mind between now and then; but stopped short of laughing at me." And now I'm rather eager to change the topic, "and you, how did she view your plan to be an investment banker? Surely that would go well, at least you have good enough math for it."
Sly wicked smile, puts her finger over her lips.
"Ah ha, you didn't tell her. Made up some joke. What?"
Quietly, "can't tell you now, kids would overhear."
"Gimme at least a hint."
She cups her hands over my ear, whispers softly, "told her I wanted to be a professional dominatrix."
I gasp, then start roaring with laughter.
Another wicked smile, she says quietly, "you gotta learn, have more fun dealing with grownups."
Quietly I reply, "I sense you aren't saying something."
Her eyes go wide, she whispers quieter than before, "as I was talking, two things happened. One, I started to realize that's what I really want to do. Two, she was just so totally grooving on the topic, it's obvious her and her husband"
"No," I interrupt, "can't possibly be, a bore like her."
Wicked smile, "oh yes oh yes, it's the quiet ones fool you all the time. When we're walking home, I'll tell you evverrything in the conversation."
I shrug, "oh well, kinda money they make, then you'll beat me into the retirement stage."
We both laugh.

Rachel 3

We've each been scheduled for a half hour with one teacher who also does part time guidance counselling.
I see her eyebrows go up, "come on, don't give me that. There is absolutely no such thing as a child who reaches the age of ten and hasn't at least thought a bit about future career."
I blush a bit, don't reply.
"I see, so you have thought a bit about it, just consider it a little too embarrassing to say. Come on, this is private, out with it."
"I'd really rather not."
"Come on Rachel, at least you need a starting point, somewhere to start the process. Tell me, please."
"Well ah that is ah I've thought how cool it would be to join the French Foreign Legion."
"Excellent, now let's run with that a bit. A few centuries ago, that would be considered quite odd for a girl, but times are a bit different now. I understand it's something like a third female now. So, tell me, why?"
"Well I read, you get a pension after 15 years. So, if you start at age 18, means you're either dead or retired on a pension by age 33, which sounds just fine to me."
"I see, and by your tone I infer it doesn't really matter too much which, right?"
I blush.
"So, in a sense what you're really saying here, it has nothing to do with the Foreign Legion at all. In fact, any option which provided those choices would be ok, right?"
"Well sort of."
"So, tell me, you ah view life itself as a rather tedious thing? So, what do you think of those three convictions your mother had?"
"I wish she'd use a little originality. Why not do something different, instead of repeating the same old nonsense?"
"Ok Rachel now the $64 question for you. Let's assume you succeed with this Foreign Legion thing. You're now 33 and the pension is rolling in. With what do you intend to fill up your time? It's not like some old and ailing person who struggles just getting through a day. At that age, you still have considerable energy and hopefully good health. So, what do you do with all that time?"
"Well ah truth is, I hadn't really thought that far."
"So, why not consider the Canadian Army instead?"
I groan quietly, "come on, you know what reputation that has. I'd be too ashamed to go apply."
She grins, "well time's almost up. I'll leave you with one cheerful thought. At least you have more of a sense of everything than most I see. I doubt if you will actually join the Legion at that age. But if you're already evaluating stuff now, chances are you'll do reasonably ok wherever."
"Thank you, sort of."
She laughs, "let me tell you, there's days I wish I'd joined the Legion."
We both laugh.