Turns out my personal swimming instructor/friend Ken (aka Don Quixote and Sancho Panza) actually was a swimming instructor at a summer camp in his youth. Since he’s older than I, take it from me it was a loooong time ago. But we got through the first lesson without either us losing anything, Ken his cool, me my life. Weather permitting, we’re scheduled for another frolic in his pool on Friday.
Gee-Ka: That’s the way grandson Finley pronounces grandpa, so I guess Gee-Ka will be my nickname going forward. Finley had it much easier saying Gee-Gee for Grandma Gilda.
Finley & Co. (Allison and Dan) visited last weekend so his parents could attend their first game at the new Yankee Stadium on his mother’s birthday (Yanks won). Hard to find a better age to babysit than a 20-month-old who eats well, lays down to nap without fuss, laughs a lot, doesn’t poop too much, always startles you with new words he can vocalize, and pretty much understands everything you say to him. Even when I mistakenly shortened his nap time it afforded us one of the more pleasurable experiences of the weekend—cuddling in our bed with him for about 20 minutes.
Credit Rating Fake-out? The NY Times implied Wednesday it would be no big deal if the credit rating of the United States dipped from AAA to AA, or even lower. Noting that most corporations long ago abandoned the quest for triple-A ratings with hardly a misstep, the article suggested only national pride and a possible blow to consumer confidence would be at risk (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/03/business/aaa-rating-is-a-rarity-in-business.html?scp=2&sq=eric%20dash&st=cse).
So was this whole debt ceiling pas-de-deux debate (okay, a pas-de-trois, if you count the Tea Party) really a sham, just political posturing? Could be, except the deal struck is not good news for those in need of government support, people like the long-term unemployed.
What’s also exasperating in this whole scenario is the three major credit rating agencies—Fitch, Standard & Poors and Moody’s—are the very same organizations that green-lighted all those hazardous derivative bonds that contributed to the financial failures of the last few years, precipitating the recession which shuttered businesses, reduced employment and cut tax revenues causing our national debt to skyrocket. These rating agencies did not suffer. How ironic that today they pass judgment on U.S. credit worthiness.
Jewish Humor: We might not be exposed to it frequently, but Arabs have a keen sense of humor, I’ve heard. They’re even developing stand-up comedians, according to a recent NPR segment.
Strangely, some of the comedians choose to compare themselves to American comics. One calls himself the Jon Stewart of the Middle East. Another refers to himself as the Jerry Seinfeld of the Middle East.
How comforting to know the Arab world appreciates American humorists. But do they also realize these comedians are Jewish?
Burned by Burnett: The NY Yankees should end the charade of contemplating a six-man pitching rotation by dumping A.J. Burnett. Add him to the scrapheap of failed free agent pitcher signings. He’ll fit snugly alongside Kevin Brown, Kenny Rogers, Carl Pavano, Jaret Wright, Javier Vazquez, Ed Whitson, Hideki Irabu and Kei Igawa.
Time to concentrate on developing Ivan Nova and Phil Hughes and other prospects. After last night’s outing in Chicago against the light-hitting White Sox, when the Yanks scored 13 runs in the first four innings, only to see him give up seven before being relieved with one out in the fourth, Burnett continues to show he is unreliable.
Though his stuff (for those non baseball-literate readers, “stuff” is a term used to connote the quality of a pitcher’s pitches) can be electric, more often than not since becoming a Yankee he has shocked his team and its fan base with inconsistency and disappointment. He hasn’t won a game since June 29.
Better to admit Burnett can’t pitch for New York and work a deal to dispatch him to another team, even if the Yankees have to pay his bloated salary.
Showing posts with label Arabs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Arabs. Show all posts
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Gazing Over Gaza
One week ago today, from a hill in the Israeli moshav of Netiv Hasara, the northern Gaza Strip unfolded before my eyes. It was a sunny, quiet day.
Six times over the last two days rockets fired from that same region fell inside Israel. No one was injured. Israel retaliated with an air strike. No one was reported injured.
The Gaza Strip I looked out upon, along with Gilda, our friends Dave, Gemma, Phil and Margie, is a rolling stretch of houses and fields, with no outward indication of unyielding conflict. Except, to gaze at Gaza your eyes have to first pass over a security wall, perhaps 25 feet high, topped by machine gun turrets.
There’s a constant breeze in your face as you stand on the hill, a nagging thought in your mind that a sniper could easily pick you off if so inclined. You joke you’re thankful you’re not the tallest one in your group.
We were in Israel the first 11 days of July primarily to attend a wedding and tour the country with Dave and Gemma, best friends from Britain who’d never been to Israel. We traveled to the Sha’ar Hanegev (Gates of the Negev) region to visit with first responder trauma care providers who visited New York in May of the last two years as part of a rest and relaxation program sponsored by Shalom Yisrael, a volunteer group I joined last year (http://nosocksneededanymore.blogspot.com/2011/05/well-deserved-rest-relaxation.html).
After a day of touring several kibbutzim, we dined in Kfar Aza, at a home several paces from the spot a mortar shell landed three years ago, killing a neighbor, a father of three and Israel’s national engine-powered paragliding champion. Jimmy Kedoshim, 48, died while tending the garden in front of his home.
I have no doubt there are people on the other side of that fence who want friendship and amity, if not actual peace. Before Gaza became a synonym for incessant, random rocket and mortar fire, there were many friendly exchanges between the two Semitic peoples. As related by my hosts, workers from Gaza routinely came across the border to work in Israel’s fields and factories. Israelis brought their cars to Gaza for repairs. They visited the beaches of Gaza. When a Palestinian fell in love with an Israeli, he sought refuge with his Israeli employer to avoid the death threat his family imposed on him, a sentence eventually rescinded when the affair ended.
It is one of the ironies of this seemingly intractable conflict that people who live in the shadow of terror are among the most pacific of their fellow citizens. Time and again they expressed an affinity for the residents of Gaza, people they mingled and traded with before Hamas took control and turned the narrow strip of land into a missile launching pad.
On the other hand, one of my retired military friends from Tel Aviv has hardened his dovish position of years back. He now fears a Hamas-led Palestinian state on the West Bank—he has no doubt Hamas would take over there from Fatah, as it did in Gaza. Such an eventuality would make Israel’s population centers vulnerable to missile, rocket and mortar fire, would make air travel into and out of Ben Gurion airport hazardous because of ground to air missiles.
In Sha-ar Hanegev, settlements are picturesque villages of single family homes inhabited by hundreds to several thousand residents. On the other side of the fence, multi-story apartment houses dominate the landscape. Its among the most densely populated areas on earth. Yet, Gaza is not a blighted ghetto. Consumer goods abound. Ample food and medicines arrive daily in trucks from Israel.
One wonders what Gaza could become if peace, true peace, settled over the area. Gaza has beautiful beaches, an industrious, educated population.
Fanatics have co-opted the dialogue, on both sides of the fence. Ordinary people just want to live in peace, without fear. Perhaps, in our lifetime, it will happen. As the Arabs say, “inshallah,” God willing.
Six times over the last two days rockets fired from that same region fell inside Israel. No one was injured. Israel retaliated with an air strike. No one was reported injured.
The Gaza Strip I looked out upon, along with Gilda, our friends Dave, Gemma, Phil and Margie, is a rolling stretch of houses and fields, with no outward indication of unyielding conflict. Except, to gaze at Gaza your eyes have to first pass over a security wall, perhaps 25 feet high, topped by machine gun turrets.
There’s a constant breeze in your face as you stand on the hill, a nagging thought in your mind that a sniper could easily pick you off if so inclined. You joke you’re thankful you’re not the tallest one in your group.
We were in Israel the first 11 days of July primarily to attend a wedding and tour the country with Dave and Gemma, best friends from Britain who’d never been to Israel. We traveled to the Sha’ar Hanegev (Gates of the Negev) region to visit with first responder trauma care providers who visited New York in May of the last two years as part of a rest and relaxation program sponsored by Shalom Yisrael, a volunteer group I joined last year (http://nosocksneededanymore.blogspot.com/2011/05/well-deserved-rest-relaxation.html).
After a day of touring several kibbutzim, we dined in Kfar Aza, at a home several paces from the spot a mortar shell landed three years ago, killing a neighbor, a father of three and Israel’s national engine-powered paragliding champion. Jimmy Kedoshim, 48, died while tending the garden in front of his home.
I have no doubt there are people on the other side of that fence who want friendship and amity, if not actual peace. Before Gaza became a synonym for incessant, random rocket and mortar fire, there were many friendly exchanges between the two Semitic peoples. As related by my hosts, workers from Gaza routinely came across the border to work in Israel’s fields and factories. Israelis brought their cars to Gaza for repairs. They visited the beaches of Gaza. When a Palestinian fell in love with an Israeli, he sought refuge with his Israeli employer to avoid the death threat his family imposed on him, a sentence eventually rescinded when the affair ended.
It is one of the ironies of this seemingly intractable conflict that people who live in the shadow of terror are among the most pacific of their fellow citizens. Time and again they expressed an affinity for the residents of Gaza, people they mingled and traded with before Hamas took control and turned the narrow strip of land into a missile launching pad.
On the other hand, one of my retired military friends from Tel Aviv has hardened his dovish position of years back. He now fears a Hamas-led Palestinian state on the West Bank—he has no doubt Hamas would take over there from Fatah, as it did in Gaza. Such an eventuality would make Israel’s population centers vulnerable to missile, rocket and mortar fire, would make air travel into and out of Ben Gurion airport hazardous because of ground to air missiles.
In Sha-ar Hanegev, settlements are picturesque villages of single family homes inhabited by hundreds to several thousand residents. On the other side of the fence, multi-story apartment houses dominate the landscape. Its among the most densely populated areas on earth. Yet, Gaza is not a blighted ghetto. Consumer goods abound. Ample food and medicines arrive daily in trucks from Israel.
One wonders what Gaza could become if peace, true peace, settled over the area. Gaza has beautiful beaches, an industrious, educated population.
Fanatics have co-opted the dialogue, on both sides of the fence. Ordinary people just want to live in peace, without fear. Perhaps, in our lifetime, it will happen. As the Arabs say, “inshallah,” God willing.
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