Joseph Zitt's [as if in dreams] 2024-03-22
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. You can also read this email online here. Here we go...
A boy pops out from another aisle in the supermarket. He is dressed as a blue jester. He doesn't seem too happy about it. Someone compliments him on his costume. He runs away.
Some schools and groups have Purim parties today. I see a child dressed as a superhero that I don't recognize. Pictures pop up on family WhatsApp of a girl dressed as Cinderella. I had thought that she was going to dress like a baker. A dog trots by with a mask and human-like arms extending from its collar. It doesn't seem too happy about its costume either.
I don't see as many costumes this year as in years before. They had started showing up then a week or so before Purim. Now, there are only a few. There's a war on. A lot of people aren't in the mood. The former mayor canceled the usual big parade out of worries about security.
The local site has photos of the new mayor visiting schools for their parties.1 One odd thing: I see that in the first picture, he and a lot of other people are wearing headphones, while others are not. I don't know why. It might be that they need to hear messages from staff. It might be to protect their ears from the sound of a roomful of kids. Others might immediately know what it shows. I don't.
In the late afternoon, I head up to the House of a Hundred Grandmothers. Just past the equinox, it's bright enough outside now that we don't need streetlights yet. A few people are in the park. A couple of dogs are zooming happily about.
Before Kiddush, my relative who is leading it announces the traditional reading of the Book of Esther, to take place in their synagogue after Shabbat and on Sunday.
The singing is fairly strong. A man with a clear voice stands right behind me through the ceremony. When it is over, by the time that I turn around to see who it is, he is gone.
I see a few people whom I don't recognize. One woman that I hadn't seen in a few weeks is back, several tables ahead of me. I'm not sure for a little while. She's so small and thin that when she leans forward in her chair, she disappears behind the woman sitting next to her on my side.
A very old woman behind us is confused. She apparently thinks that she is at Saturday's lunch rather than Friday night's supper, and is demanding what she usually eats then. The server steps out to the doorway and sees the woman's caregiver. Together, they sort things out to the extent that they can.
By the time that I head home, the streetlights are on. The paths through the park are clear. Almost all the fallen branches are gone, though some new, smaller ones have dropped to the ground in their place.
The cats on my street are wandering around. They appear to be waiting for the humans who will set out food for them.
I sit back at my desk at home to wrestle with the technology that I had recently bought. Much of it isn't exactly what had been pictured. Some needs different connectors than what I have. Maybe I'll figure it out. Maybe it won't. Step by step, I'll see what I can do.
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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 at that Las Vegas address, 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.)
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L'hitraot.