As we run up and down and in and out of our shelter with every siren, shuddering at the explosions and grim news updates, I’ve been focusing on the upsides to these latest developments in the ever-turbulent Middle East. True, they’re microscopic relative to the scope of what is happening, but I’ll take ‘em. They include:
Good family time
First of all, we are together. By “we” I do not mean ‘We, the Jewish People,’ nor ‘We, Israel and America,’ though I do often think in such sweeping collective terms (perhaps more than is entirely healthy). In this case, by “we,” I mean just me and my family. My own little personal bubble.
But with my oldest in shnat sherut (a gap year service program), and my middle in 12th grade, two of my three kids are already more out than at home. So being together while weathering these Iranian missiles allows me the illusion that I can keep my kids just a little safer by having them right here next to me.
And since this is all so much bigger than us, I feel temporarily released from any obligation to figure out what I am supposed to do to try to impact larger events (another obsession with its downsides), and free to focus just on us.
Good food
We are not hungry. We are even eating well. I do not take this for granted.
My oldest indulged us with his developing cooking skills by making fried chicken for dinner last night. Perfectly moist inside. Crispy golden Cajun covering. Fried onions. Homemade spicy pickles. It was seriously delicious. I’m just sorry I don’t have photos to share.
Of course we made hamentashen for Purim – perhaps the best batch yet. Not sure we’ll be able to do much in the way of delivering them as part of mishloach manot this year, but at least the neighbors will be able to enjoy them.
And, given the sleepless nights, I’m allowing myself an extra cup of coffee these days, which is basically an incomparable joy.
Good exercise
It’s true, I’ve had to replace my usual walks with pacing - up the block, down the block, up the block and around the corner, down the block and add fifty feet to the edge of the park by us – all to be close to home in case of a siren.
But, on the flip side, we are getting in our steps. With some 50 stairs from our apartment down four flights (three long, one short) to get to the metal door leading to the hallway to get into the bowels of our apartment building to the miklat (shelter) - with the reverse awaiting you when you emerge - every siren provides a mini-workout, or at least a chance to stretch our legs.
Good community relations
We are also getting in some truly high-quality neighbor time. While pacing up and down the block I keep bumping into different neighbors, and since it’s hard to get much done except just ride this situation out, we all have time to stop and chat. One shares the games he has invented to keep his four-year-old calm; another tells me what books he’s reading; a third - Moshe, who’s in his 80s and has survived a lot - is philosophical: “Me? I’m great. When it’s your time, it’s your time.”
And of course there are the neighbors who join us in our miklat, each round providing a different cast of characters.
There are our downstairs neighbors who don’t usually join us – she’s older and spends most of her days at home in her house slippers, and he has trouble walking, so they prefer to stay put rather than risk the race down the stairs. But even they came into the shelter for the first round of ballistic missiles on shabbat morning.
“My daughter called and told me we had to go down, so we’re here,” she said with a little dry laugh. We made sure the pathway down the long hallway was clear for them, though they haven’t bothered to make the shlep since then.
And new neighbors who have recently joined us, particularly those with rooftop apartments.
“Where do you normally go?” I asked one of them, thinking back to all the sirens we’ve had over the past two and a half years and shuddering at the thought of being in an exposed top floor apartment.
“Usually to a public miklat on Derech Hebron, by Chabad, not far from the minimarket,” he tells us. He had been sleeping there at night.
That seems kind of awful, and I assure him that when it’s Iran attacking we always come down to our shelter, and he can always join us. Which he now does. As does another neighbor from the next-door building with a top floor apartment. He has only a reinforced bathroom with a wooden door for protection (“I climb into the bathtub”). Yesterday we were briefly joined by two police and two passersby who happened to have been right in front of the building for another round of missiles.
Since the kids painted and decorated our miklat as a project during covid - with bright yellows and reds and blues and fake bright green grass - it’s a cheerful enough atmosphere greeting whoever joins. (“I’ve been to a lot of shelters these past few days, but yours is the best I’ve seen so far!” gushed one recent addition).
We even have disco lights if anyone is feeling particularly groovy.
Here’s hoping…
And perhaps best of all: since we are still only a few days into whatever this will turn into, and everything feels like it’s in limbo while the missiles are still flying, I can allow myself to imagine that maybe, just maybe, this war might somehow enable a better future for Iranians, Israelis, Palestinians and the region.
It’s true, the track record on these things suggests otherwise.
But maybe this time….
Whatever happens, we’ll have to add it to our ever-growing To Do list of all the things that need fixing.
Do we have another choice?
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