Wednesday, February 21, 2024

You Say 'Potato', I Say, "Whaaat?!"

 Just a few funny linguistic moments to share:

In ulpan this week, we had to share a recipe. I chose to talk about chocolate chip cookies (specifically this fabulous no-bowl recipe that has literally changed my chesed abilities as I never was a big baker). To recap, I'm the only American in the class. The teacher (formerly from Moscow) asked if I thought it was true that Americans only like sweet food (which struck me as a gross generalization, yet also likely true). Another former Russian in the class was stymied about the concept of chocolate chips. This puzzled me because they are sold in every grocery store and the Hebrew is literally "chocolate chips" transliterated. 

So I showed a photo on my phone and we had a chuckle because she was thinking of *these* kind of chips (which is kind of amusing to think of them made out of chocolate and served with ketchup):


We then spoke about the chivito sandwich of Uruguay (oh eek--not to my taste.....a variety of meats [including some biggie non-kosher ones, like both bacon AND ham], cheese and egg. Should be served with a side of Lipitor, in my opinion) and Russian salad (cubed potatoes and carrots slathered in mayo). Let's just say I wasn't rushing out to prepare anything we spoke about in class that night :).

But the episode reminded me of something funny that happened during the race. At around 18 km in, after running on that really soft salty sand (sandy salt?!) I had rocks in my shoe. Hmm....What to do? I was pretty tired by that point and no way could I stand on one foot to take my shoe off. If I sat on the ground, I wasn't totally sure I would be able to get back up.....There were only three more km to go until the end of the race and I wasn't sure there would even be another first aid/refreshment station when: hooray! There wasn't an official station, but standing along the side up ahead was a guy with a Hatzala vest on. He was standing talking to two other men and next to his first aid bag was.....a chair! A super low plastic lounge chair, but better than nothing. He saw me eyeing the situation as I trotted up (speedy running having been left behind a few kilometers back):

"At b'seder? (Are you okay)?"

"Ken. Ani b'seder. Yesh li.....(Yes, I'm fine. I have...."

Hmmm. My brain wasn't working so well in Hebrew at that moment (all energies, as you may well imagine, being concentrated in the lower self). How to say "rocks" in Hebrew???

I thought the word was "avanim" but couldn't quite remember. Especially because that word always seems messed up to me, and I think it should be "anavim". 

Oh shoot--"anavim" are grapes. A picture popped into my head of "anavim" being in my shoe.



Hmmmm.....Maybe I had the word ending wrong and it ends in "ot" not "im"....Yeah, that might be it! Maybe I should tell him I have "arnavot" in my shoe. ARGH. No, that's not right. Arnavot are bunnies. A picture popped into my head of pulling my shoe off and THESE falling out:



By that time, I really needed to finish my sentence, I gave up and said in English, "I have rocks in my shoe". He clearly did not speak English but got the idea when I emptied my shoe, got up and left.

Welcome to the inner workings of my brain in Hebrew. As I said to one of my ulpan teachers a few years back after a similar episode, "I'm almost always in the right neighborhood but rarely at the right house" (at least I said THAT correctly in Hebrew).









Thursday, February 8, 2024

Marathon Update

 WOOHOO! I did it!

On Friday, 2/2, I completed the Dead Sea Half Marathon. Wow, what a "chavaya" (experience) *that* was! I left with my running partner Libi, her 11 year-old daughter and two young friends at 4 in the morning and returned home at 2 pm. 

What kind of things does one see at a marathon in Israel? First off, a parking lot minyan ("yeah, we're right by the Lamborghini. Look for the guys davening--you can't miss us")

Then, upon entering the race area there's, of course, Chabad of the Dead Sea busy with a tefiillin stand 

Some things seemed to be different this year due to the war:
Umm, REALLY? In previous years could you just check your gun?!

There were the usual cast of characters one finds at a marathon (guy running in a dinosaur costume, a few people in tutus) and the Israeli legend himself: "The Pineapple Guy", 70 year-old Moshe Lederfien who has run marathons around the world while balancing a pineapple on his (very still) head. Which, given that pineapples here are CRAZY expensive (like $10 for a very small one), I don't quite understand. Because if your head bobbles and your pineapple falls, you are out a chunk of change AND a nice snack for after the race.....

The course was really interesting. The area is GORGEOUS (truly one of my top places in Israel) and we were running in an area that is off-limits to civilians 364 days a year. Since we ran straight out towards Jordan, I could see why....The area most of the race is run on is a breakwater and a natural sea border between Jordan and Israel. 

I had read that the course had "minimal asphalt" but hadn't really stopped to think what the alternative was: SALT. A lot of salt. Imagine running on the soft sand of a beach, except change that sand to salt--chunky, hard salt. At times the salt even got deep and started shifting around. Since the last time I ran on a beach I was a kid and running with my sister and cousin, I was not quite prepared for this:


But it sure was pretty:


The temperature was pleasant to run in (about 60F), but there was some drizzle and REALLY strong winds. As we were running out, I had hopes that it was an "out and back" race and we'd end up with a tailwind, but, nope, it's an "out, turn left, then back" race so once we were in the middle of the Dead Sea the wind was a side wind. Here's a picture I took on the drive home:


Friday was the secular date of my sister-in-law Hilary's death....


Lots of people ran with shirts, flags or other decorations for the hostages and/or the Israeli soldiers. I ran behind this guy, who ran while holding a sandwich board for Hersh Goldberg-Polin  


I carried an Israeli flag over the finish line with the names of the people I was running in memory of (darn that wind!)


It was all worth it for this photo (insider's hack: I am not, truth be told, leading all those runners. Note the difference in the color of our race numbers: I am in the back of the pack for the half marathoners and the full marathon guys are gaining on me. But it makes a great photo!!)

A HUGE thank-you to everyone who supported me in my fundraising for Lema'an Achai (it's not too late!). I loved each and every supportive note and thought of them when I was slogging along :)

And when you see my car, you'll know I worked darn hard for every meter of that run and every centimeter of this sticker:


















Thursday, February 1, 2024

Wedding, War, Walking and WHOA

 As the war wears on, here are a few experiences I've been thinking about:

Went to our first wedding since the war started. Actually, it was the first I've been to since Penina and Menashe's wedding in September. So all the nice memories of *their* wedding were mixed up with the at-times overwhelming emotions going through me for *this* wedding. Seeing the father of the bride emotionally lead us in tehilim (psalms) as the chuppah started while fighter jets roared overhead......I don't really have words to convey what that was like.....And again feeling SO much thanks to Eitan the wedding planner who convinced Penina and Menashe not to wait until the Holidays were over in October to get married (and a heartfelt 'thank you' to Eitan for his service to our country. He was called up almost immediately and spent 73 days defending our country before, now, going back to wedding planning. He's a very well-rounded guy ;)).

And then singing "Acheinu" while the couple was under the chuppah to use the incredible energy of this time to help our hostages......

Wishing Yoni and Racheli a heartfelt Mazal tov.

I'm still trying to do my bit to help soldiers and their families. I'm making dinner once a week for one or two local families where the father has been called up (last week I also made for friends who had their first baby and also made some parts of Shabbat dinner for someone who used to work for Shalom Shachne and was sitting shiva for his father. That's the crazy thing--all the "normal" chesed needs are still there). 

My 8 year-old friend Bella now comes to shul with me on Shabbat, since she misses going with her father. It's about a ten-minute walk from my house to hers, so not too bad. Ilana, who generally makes her extra money by working as a math tutor, has started to babysit for Bella's family, which definitely counts as a chesed since she doesn't usually accept babysitting jobs ;).

The Homefront Command is suggesting that people prepare for a "multiple day blackout due to the situation up north, which may escalate into war at any given moment" (according to the "Beit Shemesh News"). Please join me in praying for permanent peace and security for our beautiful, holy land.







Monday, January 22, 2024

Dead Sea Half Marathon

Next Friday, I am b’’eH going to be running the Half Marathon at the Dead Sea. “Ellen…..YOU?!” you might be saying. Which would be totally understandable, especially for those of you who have known me since my (rather frail) youth. 


Running a half marathon has been a goal of mine since I started running in 2017 and this year I am REALLY MOTIVATED to actually do it. Why? Because I am running as a fundraiser for my favorite local charity, Lema’an Achai. I have twice run 10K in the Jerusalem Marathon for Lema’an Achai and, for those of you who supported my previous runs, I thank you. The work Lema’an Achai has done with your donation to break the cycle of poverty and give families “a hand up, not a hand out”  is incredible. But this year, they need more support; they have now expanded their mission with an emergency campaign due to the war.


My motivation is also because I am running in memory of two special people, both of whom had a strong connection to Lema’an Achai and neither of whom I EVER could have imagined would not be here, also running this year.


My friend Yosef Newman (Yosef Refael ben Chaim) died of cancer on January 20, 2023 (yes, I am writing this exactly one year after the secular date of his passing). In January 2019, Yosef, Chani and I were sitting together at the Lema’an Achai volunteer appreciation night and Yosef, who was about to run the Half Marathon in Jerusalem, was so encouraging that, although I was only running 10K for LA that year, he helped me form a vision for how I could turn that into a half marathon in 2020 (thanks, Covid. Here we are four years later with me finally bringing to fruition the first tiny hopes that Yosef encouraged). 


I am also running in memory of my neighbor, Binyamin Airley (Binyamin Meir ben Ze’ev Dovid) who was killed in action in Gaza on November 18, 2023, just two short months ago. The Airley family is so supportive of Lema’an Achai that his mother Jen continued to host the “Loaves of Love” campaign from her house even during the shloshim (first thirty days) after Binyamin’s death. Jen and  Binyamin ran the Jerusalem Half Marathon as a Lem’an Achai fundraiser a few years ago and the Airleys have hosted the pre-marathon dinner at their house many times. 


Please support my half marathon in memory of Yosef and Binyamin and to help Lema’an Achai continue their crucial work. Thank you.


https://www.lemaanachai.org/chesedathon/en/athlete/ellen-goldberg-3159/


Monday, January 1, 2024

85 Days at War....

Here are a few things I haven't written about:

Last night, to ring in 2024, Hamas sent a huge barrage of missiles at Israel right at midnight (grrr). Thankfully, we didn't have a siren here, but there were so many in areas near enough to us that we heard quite clearly that we weren't in Kansas anymore and, no, those weren't fireworks (and again, grrrr).

Recently, we had an incoming-missile siren on a Friday evening when it was already Shabbos. We had friends visiting (Malden's own Ariella and fam!) and most of us were already at shul when the siren went off. We were in the middle of a rousing Lecha Dodi (hearing nothing from outside) when I noticed a member come into shul and talk very animatedly with the Rabbi. He was waving his arms around and looked quite concerned (a real 180 from his usual calm self). Just as I was wondering if he was okay, a little kid playing on the street stuck his head in the window and yelled "AZAKAAAAA!" ("siren"). I stood up and loudly said in Hebrew that women should go into the kitchen area (which, ha, is literally just following the plan the shul has; I didn't realize how funny it is that the women go into the kitchen [and, FYI, in our shul, all the food prep is done by a man]). When I arrived at the kitchen, I turned around and saw.....three other women with me--the only other Anglos there out of about 20 women. After the requisite waiting period (and while joining the rest of the shul in continuing with singing [with as little pause as possible]) we went back and saw that not a single Israeli had moved. Not sure what to make of it, but we can at least say that we American women like to follow rules :).

I went back home as soon as the waiting period was over to see if Ariella was okay. b''H she had been putting the baby to bed in the guest room which is our safe room (and WHEW that we reviewed all those safety details when they showed up: "Not that we're expecting any sirens because we haven't had one in WEEKS". Yeah, right.....). Ariella was a total champ about dealing with this on her own. 

And in other news, last week I did something I never thought I'd do: go to shiva for someone I didn't know when I also have no connection to the family. Two soldiers from our city were killed in action last week. One whose parents are American-Israeli and the second who is Ethiopian-Israeli. I heard from Chana that SHE heard that the second soldier's shiva was very lightly attended and could I post to some local groups about it. I figured if my daughter in New York was sending me a message about it, then I should take it as "A MESSAGE" and go myself. My friend Sharon also wanted to go and we took a woman from the neighborhood whom neither of us knew. 


Definitely a lot of cultural differences at this shiva but also so much the same. Different: Sharon, whose daughter-in-law is Ethiopian, said we should bring drinks and cakes/snacks as they would have tables of food out so that people could make a blessing in memory of the deceased before eating. She also said we should bring *cleaning supplies*. "Cleaning supplies? Really? I can't do it. It's like showing up at the house of a complete stranger and telling them their house is dirty". But when we showed up, there was, indeed, a section near the food where people had brought toilet paper and....cleaning supplies. 

This beautiful family (he had seven sisters and one brother.....) was so truly "brought low" by shiva. I know everyone looks low when sitting on a low chair, but these people really looked like they had 10000 lb weights on their shoulders. It was very, VERY sad. 

not my photo--scooped from social media


Someone who looked vaguely familiar was sitting next to me, and she leaned over and asked if I had been at the shloshim for our neighbor, the soldier who was killed in action (which I've barely touched on here. Suffice it to say: Raw. Emotional. Still processing.....). Turns out she was sitting next to me at the shloshim ceremony for him as well (what are the chances?). At the same time, we wished each other that we should meet at a happier occasion the next time. And then she paused, reached over and took my hand and invited me to her daughter's wedding on Monday. Like I didn't have enough tears already....


















Tuesday, December 5, 2023

A LIttle of This and a Little of That (Regarding War)

A few weeks ago, I renewed my CPR and first aid license. It was with the same teacher and fellow students as in my EMT course . It was nice to be together again, but WOW, what a change in what we were being taught. We had renewed already once since our course ended and it was a regular redo in that we all had to  demonstrate CPR and then we went in small groups to speak with the teacher privately and try to figure out what was going on with the "patient" she gave us in a scenario (me for the win that our "patient" was possibly having a stroke, although me for the lose that I temporarily forgot the Hebrew word "shavatz" and said "stroke"). Now, though: whole new game. Renewing first aid in a time of war equals reviewing mass-casualty first aid and spending a LOT of time on tourniquets (in fact, who knew there is new technology in tourniquets?! Well there is, and it's pretty neat. Four years ago, we learned a tourniquet-tying technique that involves using a pen to tighten the tourniquet on the patient. Now we saw a new type that includes a plastic oblong cylinder that the person can tighten on themselves until help can reach them. Soldiers on the front lines evidently get these in the medical kit they carry with them. Please Gd, may they never need to use them, since tourniquet use basically means you've decided to lose your limb rather than your life).

Our family has also joined a weekly rally for an hour Saturday night to support the hostages and their families. It is, of course, "preaching to the converted", as no one here is going to pull down hostage posters (what is wrong with people?!?!), or be anything less than supportive of such a rally, but it is a way for our family to spiritually support the hostages and, as we say in Judaism, "help carry the burden". We have joined a small group that meets at the kikar (traffic cirlce/rotary) at a major intersection. There are "Bring Them Home Now" signs and Israeli flags and, personally, I say a lot of tehillim. 



The signs say "Bring Them Home Now". In the bottom photo, I am with my friend Sharon.

Still lots of cooking and baking for soldiers. I did something different this week and baked cookies for the *wives* of soldiers. There are eight families in our neighborhood where a husband has been called up (LOTS more where a son has been called up). 

The labels on the cookies say, "Thank you for being a hero and 'holding down the fort'.  Given with tremendous respect and appreciation for the work of both you and your husband". 

I've also started helping out a young friend whose husband got called up at the beginning of the war. She's home with a 2.5 year-old and an 8 month old and I went over the other night to help her put the kids to bed. I said it was the cutest war effort ever! Looking forward to going again tomorrow night. 

Lastly, I started back in ulpan (intensive Hebrew classes) again. In October, I signed up with the government to be a volunteer nurse at a Jerusalem-area hospital if needed during the war. And then, after hitting "submit" on my form, I panicked about the rather dismal state of my Hebrew language skills. The government gives immigrants who have been here less than 10 years one public ulpan (like the one I took at the local community center when we first made aliyah) and one private ulpan, like the one I'm taking now, which meets twice a week for 3 hours on Zoom. The class is very international--of the four students (class maximum), one is from Russia (as is the teacher), one from Uruguay, one from Spain and then me ;), and we live all over the country. Two members live in the South (Be'er Sheva and Ashkelon) and we had a brief interruption in class tonight as one of the women took an unscheduled break due to an incoming missile siren :(


















Monday, November 27, 2023

Guest Post: Trip Up North

 My friend, Michael, spoke so movingly about his trip up north to bring food to soldiers that I asked him to write a guest post to share with you. Thank you, Michael!!

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ONE DAY ON THE BORDER OF LEBANON

By Michael Yosef


One minute he is dancing with the Torah on Shabbas Simchas Torah, October 7, 2023. Not

engaged in deep learning. Not reading from the Torah. Holding it, dancing with it, singing with

it. Just like last year and the year before; just like we have done for the many centuries before

of our people holding the Torah close… as the Torah holds us close.


For some the dance stopped. The call came. And reserve soldiers left the shul. They were

being called up. We knew something was going on for them to need to leave on Shabbas on

Shminei Atzeret on Simchas Torah. But, none of us knew or could imagine the extent of what

happened. We figured more missiles. We had no idea that over 1,200 Jews had been murdered

and over 240 had been stolen from their homes, their land, their lives.


Those of us who stayed in shul, the majority, continued to dance. We read the beginning of the

Torah, the creation of the world… at the same time as the destruction of many Jews’ worlds

had come upon them. We had no idea what was going on. Would we have continued to be

able to dance on Simchas Torah had we known? Would it have been appropriate to continue

dancing had we known? I don’t know.


Babies, Holocaust survivors, mothers, teens, fathers, men, women, old and young murdered

over the course of a short time that Shabbas morning. Souls ripped from their bodies; their

journeys on this earth abruptly aborted by the barbaric anger, hate, and blame of a people who

would rather project their own communal self-abhorrence onto others rather than use their

resources to build a good life for themselves.


Whether you are in the United States, Europe, Israel, or elsewhere, how do you process this

information? “Largest Massacre of Jews since the Holocaust”. Shock, sadness, anger, grief,

Hashem, davening, confusion, action. ACTION?


Hundreds of thousands of soldiers and reservists made their way to the southern border. The

Prime Minister and the government began to strategize. Soldiers also sent to the northern

borders with Lebanon and Syria to reinforce to prevent and invasion from the North.

Soon after, the country began to mobilize. My friend wrote: “My son is in this unit on the

Lebanese border, but they don’t have enough bullet-proof jackets and helmets. We are raising x

dollars.” Mass fundraising. Mass mobilization of equipment, often from citizens helping troops.

Food sent to the fronts. The government might not have been immediately ready to provide all

the logistics for the unprecedented call up the reserves. But the people of Israel were ready,

and we didn’t even know it. Restaurants closed down voluntarily to make food for the soldiers.

Citizens became de facto command centers for volunteer mobilization.


What could I do? I went with a friend to the Old City, special permission to drive into the Kotel

Plaza to pick up food that a yeshiva had prepared. I took some minutes to davven at the Kotel.


Food is now packed in the car, and we are on our way up north. I didn’t want to miss a special

weekly chavruta (Torah learning with a friend) that I already had scheduled, so I brought my

computer and did a video call; computer and Gemara in front of me; friend on the screen.

Learning, while my other friend drove. The chavruta was good, and now we are half way to our

destination. After a few hours of driving, we are a few kilometers from the northern border

with Lebanon, right on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, and there is a line of traffic. This is

not 405 freeway in Los Angeles or Manhattan in rush hour. This is a small street almost at tip of

the country. It must be a security situation. It is the first time since October 7 that I have not

been sleeping or connected to the news of the moment. I got lost in the chavruta in the

pleasant drive with my friend. I said we should like online to see if we can get a better since of

what is happening.


We found it. Just moments before, the northern border had become the most active it had

been since the start of the war. Missiles flying towards Kiryat Shmone. Infiltration alerts for this

town and that town. I got on my computers maps to see where these towns were. They were

not in the exact place where we were, but they were 20 minutes away, which felt far enough

away at that time to feel “safe” continuing our journey to deliver food and support the soldiers

up north. But, we were still stuck in this line. I could see some police lights ahead. We figured

this line is connected to what we were reading online. We see a solider approach the car in

front of us and then finally approaching us. He said there is a security issue and that they are

not even allowing ambulances in. We were just minutes from our destination but could go no

further. We asked how long? He said it could be an hour or an hour and half. He didn’t know

and said we could wait in the traffic line if wanted to. We turned around and went to a close by

gas station. My friend called his contact back in the old city to report our status. We then called

the contact at the base. One of the contacts was also in the traffic line and said it was easing up.

We got back in the car, drove back north and the line was gone. From where the line had been

our destination was less than a minute away.


We arrived. We felt privileged to be on this ad hoc base, which was really an environmental

field school where the army reserves had set up camp. We delivered the food, and the guys

were so thankful. They are risking their lives for us, really for the whole Jewish world; I would

even say for Western civilization. We? We took some hours out of our work day. They were

thanking us. They were thanking us? It seemed ludicrous. As if they were giving us a billion

dollars, and we were given them 25 cents. And yet, they gratitude was genuine. They were

touched that we drove from far away to being this to them. The food was much appreciated by

them; for me, it was an excuse to send them the love and support of our nation, of all of us who

were not fighting; to let them know we support them, we are davening for them, we are

learning for them. One soldier showed us pictures of the engagement party he had just had the

field school the week before, week one after the war. His fiancé is the granddaughter of a Rosh

yeshiva. She came to the base, and they made a beautiful engagement party. I got to see the

pictures. I got to see his excitement, and we had a small moment of celebration of life. Another

soldier wanted to tell us that he is a tour guide, and that he wanted to take us on a tour when

the war ends. We got his number. We took pictures. We davened Maariv. And, then they got

ready. They were going on a mission. As they were preparing for their mission, getting suited

up, we got back into our comfortable car and moved onto the next base.


The first base was a Hilton compared to the second one. The second one was a dirt lot where

they had set up a bunch of tents. These soldiers greeted us, asking do you want coffee, seltzer,

something to drink. Beautiful Jewish neshamas. We engaged in deep conversation and again

tried to convey that the Jewish world and much of the Western world is behind them,

supporting them. It’s one thing to have a deep philosophical conversation about Light and

Darkness over the Shabbas table or in one’s youth in the later hours of the night on a college

campus. It’s another thing when the solder in front of you is on the front lines of fighting for the

Light against perpetrators of darkness. Yet, we waxed philosophical together. They knew they

were on the front line, not just Israel’s front line, but THE front line of what we are doing here

on Earth as a people as a species, to bring more good into the world. This group of soldiers

were actually a logistics group. Their purpose is to bring food and supplies to the soldiers that

are really on the front line, living in bushes right on the border with Lebanon; ready for any

moment they are needed to protect from infiltration or invasion. They are guarding the lives of

the rest of us who can go home and eat, spend time with family, work, learn. They had not

showered for two weeks and only got supplies once a day from this group. We are not able to

visit the group right on the border, but we brought food and support that hopefully got to them

also.


On the way home, there were some security check points. We stopped at those and gave them

food, got out of the car, talked with them. There was an ineffable feeling that I got from each

of these groups of soldiers. The invisible guards that normally protect us from seeing each

other’s deepest humanity seemed to be on sabbatical. It felt a bit like how I imagine it might be

when Moshiach comes. A sweetness, a place of connection, mutual appreciation, togetherness.

Even elation. Then we went to visit a special place in Meron where Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai is

buried. We davened by his kever. And then we went home. The whole experience reinforced

that we were already home with our people in Israel.


We did one small thing while the soldiers continue to fight and protect, with Hashem’s help,

every day. The soldiers have their mission. Each of us also has our mission at this time. May

Hashem bless us all to have the moral clarity and courage to stand up, to speak, to donate, to

put ourselves on the line to create a better future today.