Joseph Zitt's [as if in dreams] 2024-04-21
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...
An empty office chair sits at the entrance to the supermarket downstairs from work. A yellow ribbon is pinned to its back. A sign on the seat reminds us to set an empty place at our Seder tables, to represent the hostages.
Inside, the aisles are crowded, but the cashiers aren't unusually busy. The shelves have been changed over, removing items that can't be eaten on Passover. I'm not sure if everything has been changed, and I'm unclear as to how completely our office kitchen has been set for Passover.
I play it safe. I know that the tomatoes, apple, and red pepper that I'm getting are OK. I check for markings on the containers of hummus and yogurt to be sure they're kosher for Passover. For most other lunches, I scoop up the hummus with pita or other bread. Today, I scoop it up with fragments of the red pepper.
At the end of the day, I'm one of the last people left in the office. The boss invites me to witness him performing the ceremony of the Search for Chametz.
Chametz is any kind of food that you can't eat on Passover. None of it should remain in one's house or, in this case, one's business.
My boss tears up a pita that had still been in the refrigerator when he emptied it out. He wraps the pieces in plastic wrap so they won't create added crumbs, and places them in several spots in the kitchen where he can "find" them.
He says the blessing, then, looking around the kitchen, spots the pieces of pita and collects them. He forgets one piece behind him (or at least acts as if he has), which I point out. Traditionally, he would burn what he found. In our office, an open flame would set off alarms. He just throws them in the trash. We know that the people who clean the office will come through before the start of the holiday and will empty the trash bins.
My boss and I wish each other a happy Passover. So do the guard in the lobby, the cashier in the market where I pick up a few remaining items for the holiday, and the worker at the chicken joint where I get supper.
I wind down when I get home. It's effectively the start of another weekend. I check my messages, tweak my network a bit more, then watch a documentary (with embedded English subtitles) about librarians on kibbutzim.1
I fall asleep in my big chair. It's been a long day. I'll be busy again tomorrow.
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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 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.