Jerusalem pictures

Flowers and a hidden courtyard in Jerusalem.

What's it like over there?

Everyone is asking what it’s like to be in Israel these days, during this operation, this war.

In some ways, it’s crazy. I was out with my brother the night the kidnapped boys’ bodies were found. Every store had the news on and everyone was discussing it. People were crying as they ignored customers and just watched the TV. There was a sense that whatever happened next was going to be bad all around, that this ending was only a beginning of something much worse. And that was true. But since then, I have not seen that kind of communal focus, and as this “operation” continues, people check the news all the time, discuss the situation, feel depressed, but must they go on with their lives.

So despite the war, and despite the craziness, Jerusalem feels wonderfully alive. Playgrounds are full of kids and it seems like every third woman is pregnant. Religious and secular mix, as do Arabs and Jews, on buses and in restaurants and throughout the city, though I definitely notice at times that I am the only mom on the playground without a head covering. Posters advertise the opera and theatre and special markets happening throughout the summer. Delicious smells waft from the numerous restaurants that cover the landscape.

One evening, we met friends at the new First Train Station. The fake sandy “beach” was closing down, but we caught the end of a volleyball game. Kids were climbing on structures and riding around on big tricycles and clambering up a rock-climbing wall. Adults were dancing to jazz and swing music in the open plaza. We fingered delicate jewelry and eccentric headbands at the artist’s stands. It did not feel like were in the midst of a war.

All around Jerusalem, there is building and improvement. The old train tracks have been converted to a wonderful long trail with bike lanes and running space. The train is finally running smoothly and the combination of the train and the conversion of downtown streets to pedestrian walkways has successfully decreased the car traffic and increased the foot traffic in the area. The open-air market, always full by day, is also now popular at night among a younger crowd who listens to loud music while dining on a variety of cuisines. Begin Road, or route 50, the new highway in Jerusalem, makes it easy and painless to get in and out of the city, and they have even improved the signage. These improvements (combined with Waze, an app developed in Israeli that allows drivers to share information about traffic and accidents), make it an easily navigable city.

Of course, there have been air raid sirens. Four in Jerusalem so far, but almost all in the first week. We feel like we have it easy compared to the south, of course, or the “merkaz,” the center, around Tel Aviv, where there are sometimes multiple ones a day.

We traveled north last week. It didn’t seem like the right time to take a vacation, with people risking their lives to defend the country and people suffering air raid sirens all the time. But we needed a break and wanted a family vacation. While Jerusalem is relatively quiet, it was nice to get away from the worry of rockets and sirens. But as we were leaving, we heard about a stone-throwing attack on route 2 on the coast, and about sirens are going off in the northern Galil, but during the day, away from the news and focusing on the pool, it felt like a real break.

That was, until we started talking to people. At Hamat Gader, we saw a family swimming and looking totally without concern. But when we spoke, we quickly learned that they haven’t been home for three weeks. They live in Kfar Maimon, a moshav near Gaza, and they have no safe room. The mother told me she can’t have her three little girls there, so they’ve been traveling from grandparents to friends to hotels. She wants to go home, but she knows that would be irresponsible.

Many tourist sites were offering free or discounted admission for residents of the south. Everyone is suffering from the decreased tourist activity because of the situation—our hotel offered an across-the-board discount hotel offered 25% off for Operation Protective Edge. Vacation during a war is cheaper, I guess.

And now back in Jerusalem, another two Arab boys attacked violently by young Jewish Israelis. Stories of cars being burnt in West Jerusalem neighborhoods because they had Israeli flags flying on them. I don’t like to talk about a cycle of violence, because I think that suggests that both sides in this conflict are equally implicated and equally violent. But I do think there’s a cycle of hate, and the more the conflict goes on, the more each side feels justified in their hate, becomes more extreme in their statements, and raises more children into a culture of hatred. How can we stop that cycle?

So here I am, in a shady, beautiful Jerusalem café, feeling safe and comfortable, listening to the people around me discuss the Iron Dome protecting us from rockets.

Adaptive innaccuracy

While on a recent run (!), I was listening to the well-done Sipur Yisraeli podcast, which is modeled after the PRI radio show This American Life. One section talked about the human ability to estimate or predict ability. When people registering for a course are asked to estimate whether they will be in the top 5% of the class, they do a relatively good job— not perfect (some say they will and don’t; some say they won’t and do)—but not much more than 5% answer yes. However, when they ask whether student expected to be in the top half of the class, which should happen to about half of the folks, 70-80% said yes. Is this over-estimation? The same happened when people were asked to estimate how other people saw them in terms of attractiveness and intelligence—people all overestimated their appeal to the people they knew. One group, however, saw things more accurately: those who were depressed. In other words, understanding one’s limitations is associated with actual inability to function. So that 70-80% is adaptive. Apparently people wouldn’t sign up for a class if they thought they weren’t going to do better than average. We have to be overly optimistic or we wouldn’t do anything. Arrogance, or poor statistical ability, is, in some cases, desirable.

Keeping the peace

Cross-posted from http://skillvolunteerisrael.org/2014/07/22/small-contribution-keeping-peace/

            Last week, I found myself herding autistic elementary school students at a school I’d never been to before into a bomb shelter—for practice.

            That wasn’t exactly what I expected to be doing that morning. I am spending the summer in Israel with my family on a mini-sabbatical, and between finishing old projects and starting some new ones, I carved out a little time for volunteering. Through friends and connections (the way things work in this small country), I learned about the Yad Hamoreh school, home to a unique program for medium-to-low functioning autistic children integrated with regular track children. They always need extra hands on board, especially Hebrew speakers, so Wednesday morning, I was scheduled to volunteer at the school.

            Tuesday night, though, there was an air raid siren in Jerusalem. Hamas rockets were headed toward the city.

            I have lived in Jerusalem during dangerous times. In 2001-2002, buses and restaurants were regularly blown up, and people were afraid to travel by bus or to even sit in cafés. In 2006, during the second Lebanon war, Jerusalem was a relatively safe, and strangers from the north came to stay in my grandmother’s apartment, seeking refuge. But Tuesday was my first tzeva adom—Color Red warning. Terrorists in Gaza had successfully created rockets capable of reaching as far as Jerusalem, and they had begun shooting at the city. Never mind the fact that there are many Arabs in Jerusalem, Christians and Muslim alike. Never mind the historical and religious sites for so many religions. These rockets were targeting us and aiming to kill.

            As the siren wailed and we realized what it was, my husband and I grabbed our sleeping children and headed to the “safe space” in my husband’s aunt and uncle’s apartment. We ended up spending the night, rather than driving home and risking a siren while on the road (safety protocol requires exiting the car, lest it be hidden blowup, and laying by the side of the road, none of which we found appealing with two small sleeping children). In the morning, still shaken by the experience, we headed home, cleaned up, and got the kids to daycare, and then I headed to Yad Hamoreh.

            In a bright, colorful classroom, I slowly met the fifth graders. First E, curled up on a chair. She understands English better than Hebrew because her parents are American, but she doesn’t speak almost at all, and when she does, it’s mostly to herself. Y is very affectionate, but teachers are worried that his propensity for enthusiastically touching friends and strangers alike will not serve him well and are working with him on who to touch and when. G can recognize some letters and vowels, but it’s hard to get him to stay focused enough to read more than a word or two. M hasn’t been doing well lately and spends a lot of time trying to do damage to the classroom and her classmates. Teachers expertly distract her, move hazards, and stand guard, but in a room of needy kids, she needs a full-time person standing near her to keep her from hurting others or herself. L’s body is covered in scars that I understood were self-inflicted by too much scratching. How does one protect a child from himself? So there we were, 5 or 7 kids, and, depending on volunteers and activity, at times as many as 5 adults, helping them through their day. I followed the class to music and sports and art, each activity customized for the needs of the children.

            At noon came the emergency drill. Exercises like these were taking place across the country, in schools and daycares and camps, as children prepared for the very real threat of a rocket landing on their school or park or home. The guidelines are not complicated. The Home Front Command has advertisements on the radio and TV in case you haven’t been paying in attention. In Jersualem, you have 90 seconds to get to shelter. (Obviously, those closer to the source have less time. In Sderot, where they have 15 seconds to get to shelter, and the sirens go off all the time, kids just spend their days in safe spaces, since there is no way they could get everyone in safely.) Bomb shelters are the safest place to be. Mamads (safe spaces, or specially reinforced rooms within newer apartments) are also considered safe. If you don’t have time to reach or access to one of those, try to get to a space with only internal walls and no windows. If you’re on the top floor, go down a few, since you don’t want the roof falling on you. Stairwells are considered good options as well.

            Of course, few of the kids at Yad Hamoreh can understand the guidelines or the reason for them. We explained simply that we had to go to the library and promised they could read books there. However, due to summer renovations, it ended up that the library, a reinforced safe space, wasn’t open, and we led the kids further downstairs, into another large shelter. We didn’t have enough adults to hold everyone’s hands, but the teachers knew who needed to be gently tugged along and who could independently follow the crowd and we were thus able to keep our class together. The room was crowded but air-conditioned and the mood was boisterous. Teachers congratulated the kids on getting there in a short time, though I wasn’t sure if we really made it in less than 90 seconds, given the confusion and semi-controlled chaos. Once everyone was seated, another teacher asked me to position myself strategically in the line of sight between M and the girl in the other class whose long hair she loves to pull. I stood there until we were dispatched back to our classrooms. My small contribution to keeping the peace.

In Jerusalem cafes during a war

People keep asking me what it's like here in Jerusalem. How is our sabbatical/mini-vacation now that there are air raid sirens and war? I don't have any easy answers—just a collection of little moments.

• At my husband's aunt’s, where we heard our first siren. We decided to stay the night rather than drive home in the dark. The uncle kept flipping the TV between the news and the World Cup.
• Five days later. Running with my daughter in my arms to the safe room at the home of friends. With grandparents, kids, and neighbor's children, too, we were 14 in a small bedroom. My daughters are too young to understand, but the voice of the house looked out the window and expertly discussed whether iron Dome would intercept the rocket. We didn't hear a boom.
• Reading jokes online about the booms. Who heard a boom? Was that boom just my pregnant friend sitting down? Is it too early to turn anti-missile explosions fart jokes? Apparently not.
• At the playground with our daughters screeching happily on the swings. They are blissfully unaware of what’s going on and are just concerned about their next serving of Bamba. I go back and forth between enjoying the moment and thinking about what I would do—where I could take them for protection—if we heard a siren.
• Talking to my dear cousin whose step-son was just called up to the reserves. He spoke passionately about how even if there is a loss of Israeli soldiers, destroying the tunnels is necessary to prevent future huge attacks, killing many civilians. This is necessary to protect lives. Also on the line, the young soldier's mother doesn't sound as sure.
• Reading two mornings later about an attempted attack on a kibbutz by 13 infiltrators who came through just such a tunnel. My cousin is proved right. It’s still not clear why they didn’t attack when they had the chance—they may have been waiting for the chance to attack soldiers. Two Israeli soldiers dead in the resulting battle.
• Sitting in a café in Jerusalem, drinking an iced coffee, and able to briefly imagine that all is ok in the world.
• Coming back to my phone after being away for 20 minutes and being informed by my red alert application that there have been five sirens in various places in the South.
• Hearing very religious language from not very religious people. Hearing very violent language from people who consider themselves religious.
• Reading how the Israeli army warns Palestinians to leave their homes for their own safety. But so many of them have nowhere to go. Hundreds of Palestinian deaths.
• Hearing from our daycare teacher that her brother-in-law was called up. They're not telling her mother-in-law yet, so that she won't worry.

So far these moments don't add up to a total feeling. Just living in the tension.

Running for office!

I'm delighted to be running for Town Meeting in my hometown of Brookline. If you're a Brookline voter, elections are on May 6! If you live in Precinct 11, I'd like to ask for your vote! And everyone everywhere, get involved (at least, if you agree with me!)


What I sent the League of Women Voters about myself:

Question 1:  What are the top two critical issues in your precinct and/or the Town and how would you address them? 

Brookline has much to be proud of in its strong community, urban living, and education system, and these should continue to be areas of focus. I’d like to expand the work TM has done on environmental sustainability by continuing to support efforts towards reducing energy waste and increasing use of alternate energy sources. I’d also like to see Brookline lead in public health, making it easy for people to eat well, be active, and access preventative as well as therapeutic health care.

Question 2:  Biographical data

Shira Fischer, MD, PhD, is a proud graduate of Brookline High School. After living in Israel and Washington, DC, she returned to Massachusetts for graduate school and is completing a postdoctoral informatics fellowship at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center. She works in health care policy. www.shirafischer.com

In which I link to something I wrote elsewhere . . .

My first post on Jewschool! I wrote about accepting wisdom even from people you disagree with.

If you're interested in the context, first read
Ethan Tucker's post on gender and tefillin
Aryeh Klapper's critique

and if you'd like,

Raphael Magarik's critique of the above

and Aryeh Klapper's response