[as if in dreams] A newsletter from Joseph Zitt - 25 Octover 2023
Hi. I'm Joseph Zitt. I moved from the US to Israel in 2017. This is my newsletter about more-or-less daily life in my city in the shadow of war. You can select these links to subscribe or unsubscribe. There are more links at the bottom. Here we go...
On the way to work, I duck around a massive SUV from Home Front Command. It's parked in front of a house, its nose blocking part of the pedestrian street. I don't know why it's there. No one is inside. Maybe the driver lives there.
A few blocks further down, I pass a car from the city government. It's sitting where parking isn't allowed. Blue and amber lights flash on its roof. The driver is reading a paperback book. Through the windshield, he looks like the policeman from Terminator 2.
Crossing the last street before the office, I'm almost hit by a smaller car. I'm in a crosswalk, where pedestrians almost always have the right of way. The driver slams on the brakes. The car stops with its bumper inches from my knees. The driver and I look at each other through its closed windows. She is young, maybe a new driver. From her gestures, I can tell that she knows what she has done and is trying to apologize. I nod solemnly at her and continue across the street.
The day at work is quiet. I have an online meeting which may help to unlock a project on which I had been stuck. We have to juggle several different programs before we find a combination with which we can both hear each other and share screens. We end up sharing our voices through one program and our screens through another at the same time.
Before the afternoon prayers, I show the cover of my new book to several of the people there, including most of those in the picture. They like it. My boss is quite pleased, chortling "Beautiful, beautiful!" He has suggestions for changing it, of course. It's staying the way it is.
On the way home, I listen to a daily podcast of war news, then another general news podcast covering the same stories. Everyone is wondering why, with our forces gathered at the border for two weeks, the ground offensive hasn't started. Some pundits say that the troops aren't ready. Some say that they were ready when they gathered, but may become less so if they wait too long. Some say that we're hoping that more hostages will be freed first. Some say that the US wants us to wait until they have air support ready. Some say that our leader is naturally indecisive and will delay as long as possible. Some say that he is delaying the start of the operation so that he can delay the end of it, since he will almost certainly be voted out of office at the end of the war, which will affect the ongoing trial which may send him to prison for unrelated crimes.
Everyone agrees that the situation across the border is hellish and getting worse. Deaths are mounting from air attacks and, according to some, from disease. They say that they do not have fuel. Our sources claim that they have plenty of fuel, but are hoarding it for rockets and other military uses. Few know who to believe, other than those who would believe one side or the other, no matter what their side would say.
I watch more news on TV as I eat another cheese sandwich for supper. The American president gives another speech, or perhaps a news conference. He takes all sides: supporting our government and the war effort, emphasizing the need for humanitarian aid across the border, and speaking out against our extremist settlers who are attacking innocent people in the territories.
There's a live report from a city square nearby. One of many arts-based displays has been set up in support of the hostages. Thirty identical white teddy bears are sitting together. Each is blindfolded. Many are splattered with red paint, like blood. Each holds a picture of one of the children being held hostage across the border. The reporter tells of seeing a young child, visiting the display, running up to it and embracing one of the teddy bears, refusing to let go.
(Writing that, I'm reminded of a piece I wrote decades ago, setting the Biblical text about the matriarch Rachel crying for her children. It seems apt now. After I post this, I'll contact some musicians that I know to see if they would be interested.)
Funeral candles burn around the edge of a fountain behind the reporter. A man walks among them, relighting those that had blown out.
I flash on an event that I was in near San Francisco on the first anniversary of 9/11. I had just moved there. I had been invited to attend the ceremony and participate, though I wasn't sure how. As usual, I felt uncomfortable being in a group of people and not knowing my role.
As part of the ceremony, large arrays of candles were burning. It was outdoors and windy. The candles kept blowing out. I found myself moving silently among them throughout the ceremony, relighting the candles as needed. I was able to be of use to the community. I had found a way to fit in.
Feel free to forward the newsletter to other people who might be interested.
Here’s an archive of past newsletters.
You can find me via email, Bluesky, Mastodon, Facebook, and, just out of inertia, X/Twitter. There's more about me and my books, music, and films at josephzitt.com.
The newsletter’s official mailing address is 304 S. Jones Blvd #3567, Las Vegas NV 89107. (I’m in Israel, but if physical mail comes to me there, it’ll get scanned and emailed. I don’t expect that to happen much. If you want to send me physical mail, ask me for a real address.)
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
L'hitraot.