Catch-Up Post #1

OK, so a lot has happened in the last few days and we've been so busy that I haven't had much time to include many things.

On Sunday, we took a tour of Jerusalem and the City of David with a tourguide named Judy. While Jaime was on line to get tickets, something small-worldish happened. Someone asked Jaime about tour times (or something along those lines-I don't know because I was in my own world). Next thing I know -- and I'm not clear how this all went down -- but we find out that one of the two women and I went to University of Maryland and lived in the same dorm at the same time! After some narrowing things down, we realized we remembered each other. Jaime had invited Allison and Shelly along with us as we took a tour of Hezekiah's Tunnel, which was the spring fed water source for the City of David.

The tour took us through excavations of the City and where it is theorized that David's "Palace" could have been. The tunnel, was carved out using only stone age tools. It was barely wide enough to walk through and often if you squared your body with the walls you would scrape both sides of you. In the beginning, the water went about mid-thigh and then went down to just above ankle for most of the path. The amazing engineering thing about the tunnel is that in 1750 feet the elevation drop is only 2 feet! Here is a link to a webpage I got some information about it.

Poor Noah, for he freaked out upon the approach to the tunnel and Jaime took one for the team and walked him back to the start. He wouldn't even go in the dry path. Shelly and I took a few pictures and we promised each other that we would email them to each other. It was a nice surprise to run into them. Kinda cool!

After that, we went to the Kotel to go to the Wall. It was amazing to walk right up to it and touch it and see all of the little slips of paper prayers stuck into the crevices. A man walked up to me and asked me a few questions and wanted a donation and gave me a candle.

From there we slipped away into the various markets (ie, Jewish, Arab, Armenian). We meandered from vendor to vendor and bargained and haggled for various items, but in all, we didn't get anything. Eventually we ended up at the Church of the Holy Sepucher and then back through the markets and to our car. I have to admit I was a bit uncomfortable in the Arab section, especially when a group of guys with guns came hurtling down the path and through an alley way as if they were on a serious mission. A Jewish gentleman originally from Manhatten we were talking to outside a Christian tourist shop said they were probably running after a pick-pocketer. We left quite quickly after that.

And thank goodness, it is just a sprained knee. Ace bandage, ibuprofen (and rest). When I asked the doctor if that meant I couldn't hike up Massada, he just shrugged his shoulders and gave me a funny look that said, "Who am I to say?"

So the good news is ...

It's not broken!




The bad news is that I have to go back to the clinic to see an orthopedic doctor. At best a sprain, at worst a torn miniscus or ligament.
It was what I thought was a minor thing until it didn't go away, and then walking around on the uneven steps there was this twinge. . .
We won't talk about the wait in the Jerusalem emergency clinic, not being able to figure out where to go within the building and how much the whole ordeal cost, ok? Give me some ibuprofen and let's go.

Kibbutz Gevat Brenner

We met my cousin (my mother's cousin, so what does that make us? I'm bad with figuring that out)
We, along with Yehuda and his son David drove into Kibbutz Gevat Brenner. We saw Levana and Aaron, who's mother, Lily, came to Israel in 1932. She is 96 years old and her awareness drifts in and out. We called my grandmother (Lily's sister) back home in New Jersey from there and all said hello.
We had a wonderful time with them and they were gracious hosts.
Aaron collects clocks and gave Natalie and Noah each a clock to take with them.

Aaron is a curator of the museum in Givat Brenner. He and Levana took us on a private tour and along with Yehuda, filled us in on the history of the place. The Kibbutz has gone through many changes over the years from the way the the families are organized to what they produce to earn an income. In the early years, young children lived in one place, ate in a dining hall and were together most of the time. Within the last 25 years that changed to children living with their families. Many older children eventually moved away and the population of the kibbutz is in decline. The kibbutz used to process orange juice and other agricultural products. Now they have a commercial nursery and sell trees and flowers.

Yehuda and David took me shopping to get a good map and a cooler. Prices are very expensive here. (And so is gas, but I haven't had to fill up yet)

We got back to Ben and Bethami's place late and then headed back to Jerusalem to Sarah and Menachim's place. It is quite late and we have an early start for a guided tour of the city.

We're Here . . .Finally!

1. A double rainbow before we leave! A good omen?
2. Noodles sitting on a suitcase. I think she wanted us to pack her with us.

3. Me in Heathrow. 4. Our plane to Israel. 5. Welcome to Israel.

Well, we made it! 36 hrs from house to house, that is. The first flight was on Virgin Atlantic to Heathrow starting after 11 pm local time and arrived in London at 11 am local time. The next leg was on El Al and arrived in Tel Aviv at about 11 pm or so local time. I maybe got one hour tortured nodding off sleep on the whole trip. Natalie was way too excited for the first leg and had some "difficult" moments, but Noah was much better than I expected.

We got this notice from the TSA in one of our suitcases. I noticed it after I saw that 2 cans of baking soda that we were bringing for one of our hosts was opened. I wonder what they thought it might be. Hmmmmm...

We are beginning our trip staying with my cousins Ben & Bethami and little Eden in Modiin. My Aunt Rene and Uncle Mike recently moved (retired) here and live down the street too. Jamie and I got a chance to sleep in until 11 am (but 6 am body clock time) and then we assembled to drive into Jerusalem for the afternoon.

We met my other cousin Sarah & Menachem as we entered the Jaffa Gate into the Old City.

Conversation During Lunch

Bro: I think I knew that last song.
Sis: Yeah, you do. We've heard it before.
-next song-
Bro: Do I know this one? I'm not sure.
Sis: I do . . . I think I do . . . [thinks about it with a slightly furrowed brow] Well, maybe I heard it on the radio.
Bro: You did?
Sis: I think so, maybe.

Silence while they eat and listen

Bro: This song has no words. It's not a real song.
Sis: It's a real song -- It doesn't have to have words.
Bro: That's funny . . . No, weird. Huh.

What to do?

10 years ago, when Jaime and I traveled across Europe for almost 10 weeks I did something that even today I don't know what possessed me: I kept a travel journal. I never kept a journal, nor have I ever kept to anything that demanded as much consistent attention and discipline as what I created. And as a result, I came away with probably the single most important and valuable artifact from our trip. Because I wrote everything down as I did with the details of what we experienced, I remember a lot of what we did. Jaime often comments that she doesn't remember what I bring up, which is unusual because she never forgets anything [especially when it comes to something I've done], especially with dates and who people are in relation to one another (don't get into an argument over when a song came out in the 80's, let alone any other time) Anyway, the journal has everything, from a synopsis of each experience, tickets for admissions or travel, receipts for food and souvenirs, drawings of people and places, and messages from the people we encountered just to name a few. I even have a 2 page spread of the different labels of bottled water we drank.
I also did this last year when I traveled to England and Holland.
So, this upcoming trip (we leave in 2 days from this post!), I have been wondering what to do. I went out and bought a laptop and a special backpack for it because last year I brought a PDA and a keyboard to do some writing for the book I am writing, which just did not work. The PDA was small and light enough that I could take it anywhere with no problems, but I just couldn't see enough of a screen to make it worth while - especially when you have to contend with over 100+ pages of solid text to read and edit. The laptop should take care of this, but at an obvious price: size and weight.
So, back to the journal idea. I thought that I would use the laptop and its ease at downloading digital pics to create an online journal. Jaime asked if I was going to keep a book journal. I think there is something to be said about having it right in front of you that makes it more real and immediate and intimate. Besides, it is easier to customize. I don't know.
Maybe I'll do both.
Any thoughts out there?

Comedian George Carlin dies at 71

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Up Next: A big trip

You know that feeling that when you get home from a vacation and then you need vacation? Well it is kinda like that now, but before we leave. We've been planning it since the beginning of the year and now it is almost upon us. Our house is becoming a huge staging area: large suitcases in one area, electric gadgets in another, reading materials on a chair along with gifts or requested items, clothes to be packed and clothes to be thrown away (this has been a good opportunity for me to go through what I have and purge my wardrobe). There's a lot more to be done, but I feel like it is a hurry up and wait sort of thing. Nerves are a bit testy at times.
By the way, we are going as a family to Israel and then I am leaving a few days before them to go to the UK for a solo trip to do [some] research for a novel I am working on.

People have said that we're crazy going at this time, with the economy where it is, gas so expensive and the dollar in such bad shape. In most cases looking back, I'd say yes, but we've done pretty good for ourselves. I've talked before about Couchsurfing -- an amazing project/organization that is about connecting with travelers and hosts all around the world. You can arrange to stay/host people where the only currency exchanged is friendship, new experiences and hopefully a better appreciation for each other. This trip we have managed to arrange to stay with folks for almost the whole trip: with family, friends, and couchsurfing hosts. I will spend one night in a hotel when I arrive late into the UK in the middle of my trip. And the big coup d-Etat was Jaime arranging to swap cars with someone in Israel!
I gotta end this post now--just thought of another thing I need to do right away!

A Random Cool Moment

I used to sometimes carry a lighter around with me even though I didn't smoke, just so I could be that guy who could whip it out and light someone's cigarette. I don't really know why; it wasn't to pick up women or anything like that. It was just cool in some way. It would be the same if someone needed a pen, a dime, pocket knife, or some other random item of immediate need.

Well today the coolest random need came up and I was there to help out:


I was in Baltimore at the Honfest, a quirky neighborhood festival that is full of beehive hairdos, blue eyeshadow, lots of Spandex and leopard prints, artists and musicians.



As we ambled our way to one of the musical stages, a band was getting ready to play. One of the guitarists called out to the audience and asked, "Is there anybody out there who has a guitar pick? It has to be a heavy guitar pick." Well wouldn't you know it --I happened to slip one into my pocket before leaving home because we were going to have band practice. I reached into my pocket and handed it to the appreciative musician. He then used it to play.
How random is that?

That was much cooler than lighting someone's cigarette.

The Value of Things

My son is at the age where all money is valuable. I can get him to be very happy if I give him some loose change and he treats it as if I gave him hundreds of dollars. He's going into first grade and he can count the change for how much he has, but he doesn't exactly understand the value of what he has. Neither does his sister, who is going into fourth grade. My son asked if he earned any money for being helpful around the house. I went along with it and gave him the meager change in my pocket; approximately 17 cents - four coins. He was absolutely satisfied with getting that amount.
My daughter has a bit more sense and you can't get away with that anymore, but she still doesn't understand the importance of saving, delaying gratification, or not buying something that is just not worth it. Now she has a heart of gold, mind you, and she will be the first person to volunteer up something for tzedaka (charity/donation), but she too does not understand the value of stuff. For example, (and I'm not saying any kid/person doesn't fight with this impulse) if she has five dollars in her purse, she can't wait until the ice cream truck comes along. She wants to use that money so much that it doesn't matter what she spends it on. And, she will volunteer to buy her brother an ice cream and only requires the appropriate thanks and acknowledgement be given. She even wants to pay for food when we go out. It's a nice quality in her that she is so thoughtful, don't get me wrong.
The other day my son showed me a $20 and informed me that his sister gave it to him. For what? For giving her a piece of some food item that he was eating. A fair trade, they both thought. Even after my questioning.
Now this leads me to another level of not understanding the value of money. At the school I work at I walked into the office and the principal showed me two $100 bills. At first it wasn't such a surprise because every once in a while a kid brings in some Show-And-Tell that they found at home and then, well, shows it to everyone. Or they try to buy some friends, or something like that. In this case, a kid found $300 and brought it in. She bought a very large pencil from one kid for $100 and then a rectangular pencil for another $100. I don't remember enough to say what the third $100 bill fetched, but you get the picture. When questioned about the pencil, the response was, "But it was a very large pencil!"
So, as in many things in life, we need to make a few mistakes to get our sites lined up. For that kid, 2 of the 3 bills were recovered. We've all made poor judgements on money matters and all experienced buyer's remorse or had a V-8 moment. Somewhere in those experiences is where we learn the value of money.
And when you have kids, you learn not to keep it where they can get to it.

OMG! I'm blond!

It happened!
At the last possible moment, it happened. The kids in the 5th grade all got a 100% on at least one spelling test this quarter. After suffering through most of the year with dismal scores and a lackadaisical effort on the part of some of the students, I threw down the challenge. If 100% get a 100%, I would dye my hair blond. At first, I was fooled into thinking it did happen, and then was disappointed to find out that it was all an elaborate trick. Funny, but not the real thing.
I told the kids that the offer still stood, and up to last week only 3 had yet to make it.
Well, tomorrow is a celebration day for the 5th graders, and to make good on my challenge, I went ahead and got it done.
By the way, most salons are closed on Mondays, or too early for me to get something done after school is out. I got it done at a local Hair Butchery and while it is blond, it is a bit too golden for me. I wanted it to be lighter. My hair is thick, very dark, and according to the stylist, very strong. They kept the stuff (whatever that blue gunk they slather in your hair to bleach it is called) very long and they were worried that if we kept it in any longer it would damage the hair. What do I know.
Picture to come later.

Ooops moments in adult supervision

A fellow blogger (Treppenwitz) wrote an intersting post about letting his son acquire an almost innocuous looking interesting book and finding out later that there was a definite reason why he took a keen interest in reading it. It is called "Questionable moments in parenting." I think it is something many of us with kids may have experienced at some time. You know, perhaps not the best situation at the time, but laughable later.

Anyway, while I was reading it, I had a flashback of a similar time, but this was not with my kids:

When I was a first year teacher (fourth grade) I thought what a great opportunity for me to take all of my back issues of TIME, Smithsonian, National Geographic, Photograpy, and Art in America, for the kids to use for cut and paste activities in the classroom. All was going just fine until one day I noticed a few boys gathered around an Art in America they seemed a bit overly interested in. At first, I was thinking, "Oh, great, they are taking an interest in art!" Wrong.

What I had discovered was what you probably have realized by now. What is acceptable in the name of Art? The Naked Body. Let me specify: The Nake Female Body! Oh boy! I contained the damage, distracted the boys and confiscated that and every issue of the magazine and luckily never heard anything about it. I was worried for a while that it would come back and I'd have to explain. After all, the family life course I would later come to teach wasn't until fifth grade.

Hell With a Makeover and Customer Service Training is Still HELL

The dreaded MVA.
The Motor Vehicle Administration office is a place that the thought of visiting can send your brain into shutdown mode. It's an exercise in frustration. It's an endurance test. It's a classic hurry up and wait event.
Imagine if Hell had trained all of their minions in the art of good customer service, would it change anything?
I had to go today to take care of some business that I had to get done as soon as possible. The only window I had was possibly during my lunch break and it should have been a simple task: I had to get a duplicate car registration copy. No biggie, right?
I was impressed with the new facility -- I only had to drive 5 minutes away from work as opposed to an hour away as before. They had several lines for information with friendly and efficient help and lots of windows open with pleasant representatives. The place was clean and had good signage and many displays that showed what number was being served and arrows helping you find the right direction.
I got on line with about 15 people in front of me and got to the information desk in about 7 minutes. Not too bad.
I was given a form to fill out and was told to come right back without getting back in line. Cool.
My number was D175. They were on D130 and E80 and some other lettered series. There was no way I was going to get back in time to pick up my students from recess. I kinda figured that would be the case, but I am quite the optimist. After about 15 minutes I realized that in that time period, only 2 numbers were called in my series. I went back to one of the info people and told them that I had to get back to my class and wondered out loud if there was anything that could be done to help me out. She said she didn't think so, but to, "not let her word be the last one on this subject." She said I should go and talk to the supervisor. Wow.
I waited on line for the supervisor and explained my situation. She took my slip with the number on it and glanced at the display with D134 on it now and looked at me. "I am very sorry you have had to wait for so long. Is there any way you can get back here before 4:30 today? Or even tomorrow?" I said I could probably make it there after school let out. She said that was great and wrote "No Wait" along with her name on the numbered ticket. She said that I wouldn't have to wait in a new line and to just come in. Cool, again! I had hope that I could come back and sail through.
Upon return at 3:45, I showed my D175 ticket to a surprised information person and was again pointed to a supervisor, waited about 15 minutes in line to see, and who after some explaining sent me to an open window. I was happy because the MVA was PACKED with people!
I sat down and gave the clerk my info and she pulled it up. And this is where the beautiful facade began to crumble:
"Uh, this is strange."
"Strange? What?"
"Your registration is not coming up on the computer. Do you actually have a car?"
"Yes, of course. I am actually turning it in now to the dealer and I need a duplicate copy of the registration. I must have thrown it out when cleaning the car."
"That's interesting, because the system says you don't have a car. In fact, it says you have an insurance violation?"
"What?"
"Do you have an '89 Honda?"
"What? '89? I sold that car in the mid 90's. Something like 15 years ago. Why?"
"Well the system won't let you do anything until . . ." She didn't finish that thought, which just sent a cascade of stress through my body.
"That's crazy! When that issue came up, it was dealt with. And it the problem was on your end, not mine. I've must have registered a half dozen cars since then." [really]
So much for getting in and out quickly.
She pleasantly got up to look for a supervisor. The one on duty passed the buck saying that since he didn't handle me he wasn't getting involved. I had to wait until the one I dealt with first came back from her break.
"Please wait nearby until she gets back from her break. She should be back in 10 minutes." I stood nearby within view as 4 people were helped. (remember the 2 people/15 minute pace I mentioned before?) At 4:30 a police officer announced loudly to the whole room that the office is now closed, the front doors will be locked and that you need to leave through the side doors.
(immediate panic)
He then after a pause said that everyone who is inside already will be served. (panic reduced, but not alleviated)
I glanced at the clerk who indicated the supervisor had not returned yet. After yet another person was finished, she said that the supervisor was back, but will come after she finishes with the customer she was now working with. After the clerk finished with the next person, she told me to visit the supervisor 5 windows down.
To make a long story slightly shorter, the supervisor fixed the problem, the clerk processed everything I had (I had a few other things to process) and I was out the door by 5:40ish. Almost 2 hours, not counting the initial visit. On the way out, I counted the number of people who were still waiting to be served. There were about 30 people still waiting.

Bureaucratic systems can be hell. Murphy's Law at work?