THE BRAVE NEW LAND

Well, this has been a doosie of a week, hasn’t it? Technically, of course, this week began on Friday with last week’s blog post; so, I’ll start there. When we woke on Friday morning, right up to our arrival in Beersheva two hours later to visit our son at the base, we weren’t sure that we would be able to even see him due to the terror that was afoot – well, unless you ask the United Nations, which will ‘not’ condemn the entire episode as ‘terrorism,’ after Lebanon's representative rejected the measure. He said that Lebanon would endorse a condemnation of the (terrorist) attacks if the council condemns Israel, as well, for killing the ‘terrorists’ who planned the attack. Um... isn’t that circular logic? Actually, I have no comment on that idiocy... But, no surprise there, really, since it is no coincidence that Lebanon – the only member of the Council that blocked the measure – is ‘itself’ controlled by Hezbollah, a Palestinian terrorist organization. By the beginning of the week,

The world... It sure seems to be speeding towards some final epithetical something-or-other… I have found myself, over the last few weeks, waiting to see what slimes its way out of all the unrest that is vomiting around the planet; you know, with the starving in Somalia, Egypt, Ethiopia, and down the block, the war zones in Libya, Syria, Egypt, Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan (the list goes on...), and down the block, and the social unrest and fracturing that is affecting places around the globe... yes, and down the block. Usually, when writing one of these blog entries, I wait to see what percolates to the moss at the top of my awareness, but this time around, it feels like that wave, last week, that I punched a visceral hole out through the back-door of to escape its clutches... maybe never let me go after all. Maybe part of me never made it out the back-door at all and I have been roiling along with it all this time, in an inevitable journey all the way to an unforgiving volcanic-rock p

The day before the 9 days began (more on that later), I went surfing with my son and nephews. I am sorry to say that I have been a bit remiss in my surf management as of late. You know, when there are waves you are supposed to drop everything and head west, that kind of thing... Recently, I managed to bring my long-lost long-board back from California to the Middle East and since I ‘have’ been so remiss, this was the first time that I took it out. The day before we went, I saw that the waves were cranking, but on the day that I finally ‘did’ inaugurate my long-board to the Mediterranean Sea, it was just about flat. We all had a great time though. My son used the fun-board (a long-board for big waves) and my nephews both shared the fish, a board that I almost expect to see a couple of semi-hidden eyes on one side, like a flounder. By the end of the day, we were all tired, including the dogs — they played with all the strays running up and down the miles of sandy beaches the entire tim

When I was growing up, I was afraid of my Dad. He was a giant of a man, at 6’ 6” (2 meters) tall, and had the same deep, booming voice that I now have. He had a large beard, rippled muscles, and piercing blue eyes. He was also one of the most gentle and humble men that I could ever imagine in existence. He put his nose to the grindstone when necessary and when not, he continued to dwell within himself, deeply. His presence preceded him, not only because of his size, but also because of his demeanor, his nature. He had such a presence that all the neighborhood kids would run when he yelled out my name. We could all hear it echoing around the wood and stucco houses. The kids in the neighborhood would look at me with genuine fear, and a hint of compassion, in their eyes. They knew that I had to face him, to stand before him, and find out what had woken him from his introspection. When his voice would boom down the block, threatening upheaval and chaos, we would all wonder what calamity wo