Joseph Zitt's [as if in dreams] 2025-06-14
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...
We're OK, so far, here at the House of a Hundred Grandmothers. We've been blasted awake and summoned to the shelters (fortunately, in my case, just outside my apartment door) by wailing alarms at about 1, 3, and 5 AM Saturday morning. The biggest booms that I have ever heard have followed.
During the 1 AM alert, a neighbor is upset that, due to a miscommunication with a caregiver, she can't get at her phone and hear the radio. I sit next to her and bring up local news radio on my phone. At least that's what I hope it is. The radio voices are speaking so fast that I have only a vague idea what they’re saying.
During the 3 AM alert, I show her an app where she can get Israel news in her native French. Not radio, but at least a liveblog. And I explain to her clearly which parts of the hallway are safest from attack.
During the 5 AM alert, we all bring chairs out into the hallway. We quickly fall back asleep in them.
We now have enough warning time that apps often let us know of upcoming alarms a few minutes before the alarms actually trigger. This had an unintended consequence yesterday: when the first warning went off, enough people suddenly rushed toward the shelters that a massive amount of Android phones' movement-detection-thingamabob got activated, and Google reported an earthquake. Oops. We have those, too, but this wasn't that.
They're keeping us in our rooms. The dining hall is closed. At 8:30 AM, the Head of Staff and the CEO of the House bring us our breakfasts and suppers for the day. (They're both dairy meals, so they're delivered separately from the meat-based lunch.) Synagogue services, as well as all other gatherings, are canceled.
The House's nurse on duty comes up at 9 AM. I usually swap out my daily container of medications at lunch. Since we're not gathering, she's going door to door. I discover that, in the confusion, I haven't taken any of last night's or this morning's pills. I take the morning's as she stands there, and we swap the container for my new one, with the pills for tonight and tomorrow morning.
The Head of Staff and CEO come up again at 11:30 with lunch: goulash, rice, peas and carrots, and mashed potatoes. I don't really like mashed potatoes, but the CEO just says "potatoes" (which, in other forms, the kitchen does really well), and I don't realize what it is until it hits my plate. So be it.
Half an hour later, one of the serving staff bursts in calling out "Ice cream!" I cheer, "Yay!" and accept a sort of creamsicle. Since it's a meat-based lunch, as always, it's non-dairy ice cream, but it's good.
I get messages on Facebook from someone looking to evacuate from near the shore. Their house doesn't have a shelter, and they can't get to the nearest quickly enough. They may go to someone in a town where they used to live, which isn't being bombed. Fortunately, their little girl is already there for the weekend. Here, she'd be terrified. (Later, I hear that they'll be staying with a friend who has a shelter in the next town over.)
I'm seeing images of windows blown out not far from here. The papers are showing the buildings that got the direct hits. For security, they're not saying where, other than the city, but I could probably find rumors of the info, at least, were I to dig for it. Several people have died in the attacks. Dozens have been injured. Some key hospitals have shifted their work to underground levels.
I watch a clip of Fox News coverage live from Tel Aviv last night. Early on, the sound of missile alarms blares out from the clip and the computer. I quickly crank the sound way down to avoid panicking the neighbors. Our walls are thick enough that it's almost impossible to hear what's happening in the next apartment, but I do it just in case. Later, I send the same clip to a WhatsApp group, with a warning about the alarm in its audio.
A relative tells me, when I ask on WhatsApp, that automatically translated posts that I see beginning with either "Amalek" or "MLK" are getting auto-bungled. The Hebrew acronym "אמ:לק" (equivalent to "A-M-L-K") expands to mean "Too Long; Didn't Read" -- the famous English "TL;DR" (used online, for those who don't know, before summaries of longer material).
In the afternoon, I visit a relative who is, for the moment, staying in the Continual Care center downstairs. (I'm not sure beforehand if I'm allowed to leave my apartment, but when I get there, I'm told it's OK.) We go out into the lobby for a while, away from the nonstop noise.
The booms had awakened people in Continual Care, too, but they were safe in their beds. Those by open windows, though, found it even more frightening.
In the lobby, I see other residents, alone or with friends, caregivers, or relatives. I wave or say "Shabbat shalom" to those whom I recognize. Some residents' family members hassle the staff, as if their own relatives are the only important people there.
A resident who sits across from me at lunch comes through with his caregiver. I get up and embrace him. He doesn't seem quite clear as to where he is or what his situation is nowadays, but communicates through prayers and touch. He gives me a blessing and another to my relative, then continues to the other part of the building.
Some of us discuss why we did the "preemptive strike" when we did. My hunch: our maneuver, of sneaking weaponry across the border right under their noses, seemed rather like the surprise that Ukraine pulled off a couple of weeks (?) ago. I wonder if we were concerned that that may have clued Iran in that we were about to try pretty much the same thing.
Of course, everyone is warning everyone else of severe consequences if anyone does anything else. And everyone is ignoring each other's warnings.
It looks like we're expecting more attacks tonight and in the coming days. I wish the hallway were wide enough for my big comfy chair, in which I sleep half the time anyway.
Home Front Command said this afternoon that we no longer need to stay close to bomb shelters. I remain wary of getting far enough away that I wouldn't be able to get to one quickly, in case they decide that we do need them again.
Meanwhile, a selfie shows up on Facebook by a friend from my last job. This may only seem bizarre to someone my age or older, but it appears that he's in a safer place than here or, from what I see in the news, in some of the US. He's comfortably shopping in Hanoi.
In the evening, we get word that they'll be delivering meals again tomorrow (Sunday). No gatherings will be planned. Schools and workplaces are to be closed again.
I'll send this out, then try to watch some TV other than news. If there's more news, we'll hear the alarms.
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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.