So I haven’t blogged in a while which all sort of boils down to one major thing: life. To say that I’ve been crazy busy is an understatement. I’ve been approving the final proofs of my cookbook: Eating the Bible (available here!) and coming out in November, I spent quite a few weeks editing my novel: Master of the Miracles, before it went out on submission with my new agent, Josh Getzler. A co-worker decided to come back from maternity leave, but in a different capacity, and I’ve taken on all her clients. In short, total madness. And I’ve also been reading non-stop. Queries, submissions, manuscripts, books in Hebrew and English, and I’ve been busy trying to get my author-clients published (but August has been a very quiet month on that front…)
But today I had to blog to talk about something unrelated to books or publishing.
Last night we went to hear Mickey Hart play at the Hebrew University Amphitheater in Jerusalem. Now, I bought tickets to this MONTHS ago, the second I heard it announced, and I’d been looking forward to it all summer. But what I experienced last night was beyond words.
I’m a huge fan of the Grateful Dead. I have been since my sister first introduced me to the band when I was 12. But I’m part of a generation that never got to see Jerry Garcia live. I remember the day he died, I was 16 and working at a science summer camp and I hadn’t gotten the chance to see a concert live yet. It’s one of my greatest regrets in life.
Last night Mickey Hart came to Jerusalem. And I saw his band live, and the second song they played was Chinacat Sunflower – my favorite song. I cried when the song played, not just because it caught me so unexpectedly – the second song of the night – and bam! My favorite song. But because for me, to hear Mickey Hart play in Jerusalem, the city of my heart, and to be standing there, outdoors, overlooking the Judean Desert and hearing my favorite song – LIVE, was more than I could hold inside.
Now I know I’m totally fan-girling, which is not something I normally do about something other than books, but I need to explain something deeper and bigger. When you move to Israel (or any other country other than your birth-place,) you give up a hell of a lot. You also gain a lot, which is, I suppose, why we make the move to begin with. But, sometimes you really really miss the things you give up. And while they may not life-or-death types of things, and while intellectually you know that what you gained is way more important than what you gave up, you still miss those things tremendously. Examples:
What I miss: Old Navy (places where jeans cost less than $50, especially for kids, and jeans the actually fit, that are good quality and that are sized for all types of people and kids, specifically, where I can buy “curvy” jeans for me, and “husky” jeans for my 11-year-old and often for only $12), Target (I don’t think that needs elaboration…LOL), American Grocery Stores (that carry all sorts of products I miss, most specifically Crispix Cereal, but also Stonyfield Farms yogurt and a whole bunch of other things I won’t get into right now…), free, beautiful beaches, hotels that charge per room and not per child, cheap vacation options, camping spots with grass, water-front property, affordable cars and real-estate, large bookstores and bookstore cafes, and the list goes on…
What I’ve gained: the history of my people with every step that I walk, archaeology everywhere I go, the ability to bring the Bible to life for my kids with every breath we take, holy sites and cities that are part of my heritage, freedom from certain Western conventions about cleanliness (read: Purell obsessions – no offense to anyone intended) and allergies, basically, my kids get really dirty here and sometimes do non-hygienic things and they live to tell the tale. The freedom to wear flip-flops to synagogue, which really means, a very relaxed attitude to Judaism and religion, as in, it’s just a part of everything we do and so my kids just feel “normal” here, with no need or fear to hide their kippah (yarmulke) or tzitzit. Grocery stores where we can buy anything and everything in the entire store (as in EVERYTHING is kosher!), and we can eat in almost every restaurant in Jerusalem. So eating and ordering out is not something special that we do only from certain places, it’s just a normal part of life. The fact that my kids are fluent in Hebrew and English. The fact that there school textbooks teach them this history and geography of this land first – that geology is first about the rocks of the land of Israel. That my kids are growing up surrounded by a very diverse population base and they think that’s normal (their classes are a mix of Russian, Ethiopian, French, Hispanic, Yemenite, Morroccan and “white” or “Ashkenazi” kids). The incredible plethora of different types of cuisine and the world of Middle Eastern flavors that my kids are growing up with…and so much more.
Anyway. I think you get the point.
And then. Mickey Hart shows up. And, all I can say is that it’s a blessing. I feel blessed. The concert was incredible. And I was grateful that unlike some other musicians who have decided not to come here – from political pressure and perhaps other reasons, Mickey Hart came. And his message was simple: governments come and go, but music stays the same. Music unites. Music transcends boundaries. And I’m not going to get political and talk about why some musicians come and others don’t. All I can say is: when you come, you become a blessing to us.
I had tears in my eyes the whole night. Because sometimes you miss things, and sometimes you think about going back, and other times you don’t miss anything at all, but sometimes…when the things that you give up come to you, you feel like the luckiest person in the whole wide world.