Sometimes Lonely, Sometimes Just Alone

Of course suitcases belong on top of taxis

Hi Friends!  Wanted to pop in and write about Rosh Hashanah which was a few weeks ago.  I moved into my new apartment on Wednesday afternoon just a few hours before Rosh Hashanah.  The whole day was the kind of exhilarating that you just know will end with a crash- and it did.  Moving suitcases from Michal’s place to my beautiful new room, beginning to put clothing into shelves, and not quite knowing my neighborhood at all was a mix of ups and downs.  (Thanks to Micah who helped me move them and of course that involved strapping a suitcase to the top of a taxi!) When I went to take out money for rent, Bank of America locked me out for fear that I was committing fraud on myself.  While I suppose I’m happy that the security was that good, it all just added to a crazy day of running around and things not going quite right.

Simanim for Rosh Hashanah at the Ozerys

I had worked pretty hard to get myself invited to different meals throughout the three-day yom tov which was especially difficult because I had only been in the country for 6 days and because I didn’t know my kitchen yet so cooking wasn’t an option.  The first night almost the entire extended Liben/Shilor/Ozery clan in Israel gathered at the Moshav (where Aunt Shirah and Uncle Menachem are founding members) for a festive Rosh Hashanah meal.  Upon return, as I was ready to pass out for the night, I realized that for the first time that I had arrived in Jerusalem I was sleeping in a bed alone.  Staying with Michal in her studio apartment meant sharing a bed with her and the physicality of the week of searching for an apartment, moving suitcases, and walking around a new environment had come to a culmination of beginning this literal new year physically alone.

Not the greatest feeling to fall asleep with, and when I woke up with an infection I wasn’t too pleased.  Unsure of where to go to shul, I looked at a map trying to navigate shortcuts through my new neighborhood.  And then the scariest thought came to me: if I didn’t go to shul today, not a single person would know and not a single person would care.  For someone who talks about building community as much as I do, it was a crazy realization that I had none.  And in all places in the world, Israel is where I felt most alone on Rosh Hashana because I had no immediate family who wanted to go to shul, no friends who did not have a program to fall back on, and no grounding in the neighborhood that will become my home.  Of course, it did not help that in my father’s beautiful Rosh Hashana sermon he confessed to the entire community that he wanted to tell me to stay in America and not go to Israel just yet, but knew it was best to encourage me in times of transitional uncertainty.  Yes, I was surrounded by people walking to shul, eating festive meals, and davening at a plethora of synagogues.  I was by no means alone like I was that first night in the apartment.  But I was profoundly lonely.  In a way that I can only think of feeling a few other times in my life.

Right after arriving in the new digs

Of course after three full days of meals, new friends, blisters, and getting lost and lost and lost, life has a funny way of just going on.  At the time of this writing, three weeks later, this seems trivial because the majority of my experience has been overwhelmingly positive.  But to fully comprehend what it means to make a significant transition in one’s life, or for you as my friends and family to understand what this experience has been like for me, it would be dishonest to not write about those three incredibly difficult days in Jerusalem.  They are the foundation on which I have begun to build my new life here; integral to understanding the experiences I have since had.

Welcome to Jerusalem, Part II

Hello from Jerusalem!

This week began my adventures as a college graduate in a new country, walking the line of the familiar (Jerusalem, English, family) and the unfamiliar (Jerusalem, Hebrew, new people).   It’s been a whirlwind of five days and it’s not settling down anytime soon, but I’m trying to enjoy it all, take everything in, and follow wherever my instinct leads me.  Sometimes that’s down strange streets that I shouldn’t be walking on, but right now it’s in a wonderful coffee shop with a huge salad that I simply cannot finish and the first wifi I’ve gotten of the trip.

Where am I living?  Great question, I’d like to know the answer to that, too.  I’ve been staying with my cousin Michal in her studio apartment in the neighborhood of Nachlaot while searching for apartments.  Michal is an angel.  She is graciously sharing her home, her time, and her friends and I would probably be living on the street if she were not here to have me.  Since my arrival on Thursday evening, I’ve seen seven different apartments and am hoping to sign, or at least solidify my placement, by tonight.  So I probably will not move in before Rosh Hashanah like I had hoped, but I am doing my best and meeting some really cool people throughout the search.  Not to mention some adorable guys who just happen to have my number now.

On Friday the plan was simple; meet with Aunt Shirah, open a bank account, and then continue searching for apartments.  But nothing here is simple and after asking Shirah in advance if going to the bank on Friday would be a problem, because Israel has weird laws, we called in advance and then showed up.  Just to be told that Americans cannot open bank accounts on Friday because and I quote “Obama made a new law and so we cannot do Americans on Friday.”  Thus begins the classic Israel experiences that will continue throughout my “temporary sojourn” here.  See, I need an Israeli bank account so that I can write checks for rent and take out money without a bank fee.  But of course ALL banks charge fees when you withdraw money from them no matter what (scam city, population every bank in Israel) so the bank was only as pressing as the apartment hunt was successful.  Luckily, or not, for me, I had a few days to sort that out.  I retuned on Sunday to open the bank account with a woman who opened my Saba and Savta’s accounts for them when they made aliyah (more classic Israel, this time in a good way), and after two hours of simply waiting, and another 90 minutes of broken English, decent Hebrew, and approval from the Tel Aviv office, I now have signed a million papers that seem to say that I have a bank account.  This of course is still to be determined as I did not yet receive a bank card, checks, or have any money in the bank.  I kind of think that I signed my life away to the Israeli government, but only time will tell.

Some of you have asked me about my safety.  I am completely fine and the country is doing great.  I suppose the unofficial welcome to Israel has been that I have a gas mask.  But we’re all great over here.  Jonah, who I saw on Monday when I went to Tel Aviv to help move him in, unfortunately must stay on base for Rosh Hashanah because of what’s going on up north.  He blames Syria, I blame the army.... Semantics.   In the mean time, life goes on and my quest for the best coffee in Jerusalem continues.

The transition is difficult- it’s hard to be in a limbo-kind-of-vacation-apartment-searching-holiday meal-crashing-not-yet-working period of time, but I’m trying to make it work.  Walking around a lot, catching up with friends, and altogether feeling good and healthy.

The good news?  I don’t think it will ever get old waking up in the hot Jerusalem sun and feeling the cool breeze at night.  I’ll use that as my guide over the next few days as we bring in a new year and hopefully a new apartment.

Shana Tova,

Sara Miriam

My Cousin, Liel

At a little over 15 years old, my cousin Liel passed away this week. Liel had autism and a heart condition that in many ways defined much her life. She was also diagnosed with epilepsy a few years ago and at school this past week she had a seizure and was not found until at least a few minutes afterwards. By the time she was rushed to the ER, Liel had lost all of her brain function and after time with family she was taken off of life support. Her funeral was held in Jerusalem on Wednesday.

I have very few memories with Liel. It pangs me to say, to write, to admit. It’s upsetting to have such few memories with someone who you are supposed to be so close to. Every time I didn’t see her, or the other kids, in Israel, every time I used the excuse that I would be back, that there would be more time to visit seems trivial now. The truth is that 99.9% of the time there is a later. And there’s no way to predict when that later won’t come. Instead of beating myself up about the lost time, I am eternally grateful for the memory of Liel I have, and I would like to share that memory with you. 

In 10th grade I spent a semester abroad in Jerusalem and decided to spend a Shabbat with my cousins Idan, Sapir, and Liel in their home in French Hill. It was a phenomenal Shabbat, one I talked about for months afterwards. These children were beautiful- gorgeous faces and smiles and fresh energy excited to spend time with their cousin form America. My aunt Leora cooked the most delicious chicken, Sapir and I read in English together, and Idan and I stayed up all night playing Connect 4 (which I schooled him in). All the while the three kids fought over who got to sit on the beanbag chair that our Aunt Shirah had gotten for them as a present earlier that month. After Idan went to bed I chatted with my Uncle Mike catching up until I fell asleep. (Every time I see my Uncle Mike he remembers me as the 10th grade girl from that Shabbat, even though I have spent time with him almost every year since).  The next morning, the three kids and I continued to play and talk. At some point we realized that Lieli had wandered away and we went to find her. And boy were we not ready for what we found. Liel had taken the beanbag chair to claim as her own, moved it to her room, and subsequently pulled it apart spilling all of the little beans inside of it. Idan, Sapir, and I burst into a fit of laughter when we saw Liel sitting there amidst a sea of white balls. She had claimed her territory, queen of the beanbag chair, and we all jumped into the sea to join her, throwing tiny white balls of beenbag chair-filling at each other. I am convinced that to this day they still find remains of the chair-filling in their house. Aunt Shirah—if you were wondering, that beanbag chair was put to great use by all of us. 

When you think of someone who brought so much joy and overcame so many challenges, you wonder, how do you find God in this empty space? In Hebrew, Liel, means “my God.” Liel’s organs have been donated and as of now, four people are going home form the hospital healthier and happier than before. Liel continues to live through those who have her lungs, kidneys, and pancreas. This is one profoundly physical and beautiful way that God is found in our realm.

Now, more than ever, her name seems appropriate.  Through her challenges and her enduring smile I know that she taught so many people, as my Uncle Michael wrote, “lessons of acceptance, the need for a prolonged patience, and the value of unconditional love.” Where do we find God?  Precisely in these lessons that Liel has taught those around her.  By remembering and emulating acceptance, patience, and unconditional love, we testify to Liel and her legacy as an embodiment of God on earth. 

May her name be a blessing.

The Pit in Your Stomach

The pit in your stomach every time there's a rocket fired.  Every time there's a random shooting on the border.  Every time the Iron Dome intercepts a Ketusha (because what if it didn't).  Every time a soldier is abusive at a check point.  Every time there's a raid in Ramallah.

The first time I felt that pit, and I mean felt it growing hollow inside of me, was on a Leadership trip to Israel through USY in February 2008, after the Second Lebanon War.  My friends and I, 16 selected leaders from the Conservative Movement, went up North and saw destruction from the war two summers earlier.  We sat in a bomb shelter and were told stories of civilians running for their lives at the sound of sirens, of evacuating towards the South, of leaving behind your houses and seeking safety.  I held a Ketusha rocket which had been fired at the very children's school we sat in in my hands and for the first time understood the literal weight of living under fire.

Holding a Ketusha Rocket, February 2008.
We smile because we have no other way to cope

The next time was in August 2011.  Only days after dropping my brother off at the airport, after months of no violence between Gaza and Israel, there were two bombings in the South of Israel.  And right there in front of all of my campers as our Rosh Edah (Unit Head) was telling us of the attacks, I started crying.  That's when I knew every rocket, every uncertainty on the border, every wrong move from an Israeli teenager given some training and a uniform would make me feel a little different.  Afterwards, I felt that pit in a big way in a long night many of us remember last year, October 18, 2011, as I stayed up all night watching the news, reading Twitter, and awaiting Gilad Shalit's return.  What does this mean for the future of the soldiers?  No one knew.  No one knows.

Many of you, however, know that pit.  We all feel it in different ways.  We make jokes about Ahmed Jabari (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ahmed_Jabari) being married to 72 virgins on facebook.  We post statuses about our political views- no matter what they are, we write that we stand with Israel, we lament the New York Times for a biased article and argue on Twitter with people we've never met.  We feel a deep yearning for our brothers and sisters in Israel.  We decide today that that's that- "Next year in Jerusalem!" is no longer a saying.

You may be feeling this pit today because death is around us, terrorists and innocent civilians alike.  You may be feeling this pit today because your friends are being called up for reserves or your brother's phone is off.  It may be that you have experienced having 15 seconds to run into bomb shelters and you feel for the thousands of civilians up all night for that very reason.  Or maybe all your friends are saying "No matter what I stand with Israel" and you want to think that, want to believe that, but you pray to God that Israel doesn't mess this up, that we defend our citizens with honor and dignity.

We know a few things.  We know Israel has a right to defend itself against 12 years of over 12,000 rockets from Gaza.  We feel it in our hearts and our souls and we stand behind that conviction.  But sometimes we don't know what this defense means for us, our families, and for the world around us.  So remember this: the uncertainty is uniting us.  Right now, I feel a need to be with a community of people who understand what attacks on Israel mean in a profound visceral way, knowing that others feel that too.  It's a strange and uncomfortable feeling of aloneness and a need to find solidarity in others, if only to reaffirm that, somewhat paradoxically, that very sense of aloneness is felt by others, too.  Know that the person next to you in class, across from you at Hillel, and on your Facebook newsfeed is feeling it too.  You are not alone, they are not alone.  So lend them a supportive hand, engage in productive dialogue, and remember that talking is cathartic- Facebook arguments are not.

With tweets like these, can you blame my pit for growing?

Source and interesting article: http://www.buzzfeed.com/mattbuchanan/how-to-wage-war-on-the-internet

Sometimes it's simple, sometimes we have a clear sense of black and white.  But uncertainty is not.  It is clear that we have a right, a need, to defend ourselves.  But the emotions wrapped up in that need, they aren't so clear.

We must be there for one another, not just on the internet but in person.  We must confront our emotions to talk about them, engage with them, and allow them to lead to productive intellectual dialogue about the mixed feelings inside of us.  To borrow a slogan from Columbia/Barnard 2011 Peace Week for Israelis and Palestinians, It's complicated, Let's talk about it.

Rocking the Vote

Was there something to do today?

In case you forgot, you're supposed to vote today. But if you're on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or just walking around in this world then I'm sure you didn't forget. Social media is taking over the day and I've never seen so many statuses and tweets and photos of the same thing over and over again.  I wouldn't be surprised if the 2016 elections are counted on Facebook polls or attended through Google Hangouts.

After filling out my absentee ballot!  First time voter right here

But it's not such a bad thing. If our generation wants to vote, then I say vote! And share the fact that you voted with your 2,000 closest friends on the internet.  Who says that changing your profile picture the day of elections won't get other people out to the polls today?!  Here are links to some of my favorite (not-so-political) articles and most entertaining snapshots of updates and tweets I've complied throughout the day. I'm catching the social-media-on-election-day fever and spreading it around to those of you who care enough what I, and my friends, have to say.

Social media has given us tremendous access to information- here's to hoping people's ballots are still counted even if they took pictures of them and posted them on the internet.  Let's be real, how would they contest that one, search through all the #voted hashtags on twitter?!  And the real question of the night becomes did you vote if you didn't post about it online?

It's a new world, Golde, time to keep up with it.  Enjoy the links and selection of election day updates and tweets.  All private names and pictures have been protected.  

That's one way of getting through the day

A very cool website to track location, age, and gender of voters as they post on facebook that they have just voted: http://www.facebookstories.com/vote

Video put out by NPR called "A Campaign Map, Morphed By Money": http://www.npr.org/blogs/itsallpolitics/2012/11/01/163632378/a-campaign-map-morphed-by-money

The important things in life

Follow the trajectory of the most competitive states to see who is more likely to win the election. Romney has 76 ways to win, Obama has 431, and there are 5 that would result in a tie. 512 Paths to the White House put together by the New York Times: Paths to the White House

As an Anxious Ohioan, s/he may enjoy the above choose your won adventure "game."  Or it will just make him/her more anxious....

Yes and Yes.

Our resident Canadian chimes in

What about the Green Party?

The people who reference movies on election day... (because the whole facebook world making a Remember, Remember status yesterday wasn't enough)

The Hunger Games informing our daily lives

Mean Girls for the win

And then there's just blaming election results on people drinking

I hope this will make the next few hours just a little bit more fun and exciting!

Weighing In

In honor of hitting over 3,000 views on my blog I decided that it's time for a long overdue update of the 21 by 21 list. Let's be real; I didn't accomplish all the goals. But the ones that I did were lots of fun, are accompanied by stories of success, failures, and adventures, and have definitely made the past 6 months more exciting than I thought.  I'm grateful that I had an excuse to try at least some of the things on my list and a platform to write about them.  The experience is long from over, it's just beginning.  But in order to progress, I've gotta recap the few goals accomplished, or at least attempted to accomplish without much success:

Top Views by Country (and browsers) from May-November

Donate blood
Ah yes, the day that I almost fainted. Twice. One of them when I was on the subway. But now I have a blood-donor card and I'm signed up to give again at the Columbia Blood Drive this week!  Thanks again to JCoop for coming with me!

Register to vote

Ever think you did something and then call to confirm and realize it never happened? See I thought I had registered to vote, in fact I was pretty sure that I had registered at least twice. So when my absentee ballot never came in the mail and I called Natick Town Hall to figure out what was up it turend out I was never registered. Much to my dismay, I filled out the forms again and am ready to vote in my first ever Presidential election! Also, I'm convinced that everything would have gone smoothly if it hadn't been on my 21x21 list, but the blog has its way of making things more interesting....

Open a credit card account
Speaking of interesting, if you try to open a credit card account and you have no money, don't tell them you have no money. Because that's what I did and I got denied a credit card. So still no credit card account but I have some friends who have assured me they will walk me through the process next time around.

Go to the West Bank
After getting on two different trips to the West Bank (Encounter and JStreet, the latter who won't stop emailing me) I couldn't go on either because the former changed their dates and I was in class and the later canceled their trip. Then my passport got stolen (good times, ammirite) and so I never made it out there. But hey, there's always the next time I'm in Israel (yes Mom, I'm going back to Israel after I graduate....)

Do a split

Yeah, that never worked out. But A for effort?

Get 100 followers on my blog
Six months later I have 10 followers which is a nice start. But again, I have over 3,000 views so that's something!

Learn to cartwheel

Picture take by Jonathan after the only time I've ever cartwheeled

Since the 3rd grade I've been trying to learn to cartwheel and let me tell you, it's not going to happen. Whether it's Deborah trying to teach me in my backyard or Keren and Ari on the beach in Tel Aviv, I cannot get my hands to support my entire body while trying to push myself to spin upside down.  The only time I've cartwheeled ever was off my bed on my 18th birthday freshman year when I was reaching for my phone which was far out of my reach.  I have friends who swear to the fact that it was a cartwheel.  And I had bruises from the landing for over a month.  

Go to Petra, Jordan

YES! Success! My partner in crime this summer, Julia, and myself buckled down and made it to Petra. And it was an incredible experience!  One that I have assured her I will write about some day from the 8 hours total getting from Jerusalem to Eilat to thinking that we weren't going to get on our trip to Petra, the craziness of the hostel we stayed at, the border crossing into Jordan, Petra itself, Julia's almost fainting and refusal to buy $4 Poweraide and the trip back... it was all a whirlwind of a fantastic 48 hours that I'm so happy I did and with such a perfect travel companion.

Lose 10.5 pounds (10.5x2=21!)
Done and done.  And what a great feeling that is because the first post (if you aren't an avid reader and are just chiming in for the first time) was Counting Calories.  Perhaps the only thing on the list that needed constant work (I guess the split could have fallen under this category too, but you win some you lose some) I'm super excited and proud of this one.

To be sure, there is much more to do.  Maybe I'll make a 25 by 25 and plan it a lot better.  Maybe not.  From now on, I'm done with lists on the side of the home screen and keeping them on my whiteboard in my dorm room.  The blog is going to morph into what some of my initial intentions were with it- thoughts and observations about Generation Y as seen through a Jewish, Feminist, Israel-loving, Volunteering, College Senior.

If it's not for you, you don't have to follow.  But if you're interested in what, in my eyes, is making our generation think, act, and change, then stick around for what should be an exciting ride!

Garin Tzabar Regba: A Thank You

A year ago, my brother Jonah moved to Israel (in Hebrew termed Aliyah or literally going up because no matter where you are you are ascending towards Israel) and about 3 months later enlisted in the Israeli Defense Forces.  If you have a brother or sister or friend or cousin or anyone that you know who moved to a different country to serve in their army and if you're anything like me then you know the emotional toll that it takes on you.  There are two emotions that take over and compete with each other for attention from your body and soul.  Pride.  Pride that your brother is living his dream.  Pride that he will forever be a role model to you, your children, your nieces and nephews, and your friends.  Pride that he is putting all of his other studies, goals, and aspirations on hold to commit over two years of his life to serving his country- your county.  Pride that he has the courage to talk about doing something since the 10th grade and he stops talking the talk and finally walks the walk.  And then there's fear.  Fear of being away from someone who you spent your whole life with, even two years in college together.  Fear of growing apart.  Fear of his loneliness during the scorching hot days and freezing cold nights while training in the desert and of being so helpless abroad having nothing to offer but sympathy and love over the occasional Skype calls.  Fear that your children won't know his children the same way you have always dreamed about.  Fear that despite the tons of family you have in Israel he will be alone without a family of his own.

Jonah at the airport leaving for Israel.  Me in tears.

None of these feelings are foreign to anyone who has someone close to them serving in the IDF, or any army, nor are these all the emotions captured.  The truth is it would be near impossible to describe what goes through your head during the week of non-stop crying when your best friend moves away.  And there's no way to describe the excitement in those first few months when you get an email or a skype call or the first time you hug that person when you see them in uniform.  These are powerful experiences and unlike Israelis who are raised knowing that they will serve in the army, as did their siblings and parents and grandparents before them, we do not grow up preparing ourselves for these feelings.

Over the last year I have been beyond fortunate to visit Israel twice; the first time to see Jonah's swearing in ceremony at the Kotel (Western Wall), and the second time when I spent 7 weeks in Israel this past summer.  Over these two trips I think I spent a total of eleven days with Jonah, seven of them more or less at Jonah's moshav (best translated into neighborhood community) where he lives in student-type housing with other Americans (now Israelis, too!) who have made Aliyah and enlisted in the army.  He is part of a program called Garin Tzabar and each member of his garin, group of Americans embarking on this journey together, is assigned a host family on the moshav because they are lone soliders and, quite obviously, do not have their parents to do laundry for them, send them back to base with cookies, cut their hair, or cook them meals when they are home.  Jonah's host family is phenomenal.  They adore him, and who wouldn't?!

Seeing Jonah for the first time in uniform
I was so ecstatic that entire day!

But what struck me most when I spent those estimated seven days with Jonah on his moshav was not his loving host-family who fed us both with delicious food, ironed his clothes, sewed on buttons to his torn uniform, lent him their car, and talked American Basketball teams with him.  It was his friends, the other 30 or so 20-somethings who embarked on this journey together.  The group that forms the garin is assembled by geographic location in the US so that they can attend seminars together before moving to Israel- Jonah is in a Northeast college aged or post-college group so his friends have had similar life experiences in universities leading up to their move.  These amazing and inspirational people go through experiences I cannot fathom.  The boys and girls all serve in different competitive units and when they come home on weekends, albiet not every weekend, they are exhausted and worn out and just want to sleep.  But instead of crashing and hibernating and rejuvenating themselves for the week or three to come, they get together at 5pm and do a Shabbat Circle where they say the blessings for Shabbat and all go around talking about their weeks.  Even though they mostly talk to each other in English when at home, the Ma'agal Shabbat is all in Hebrew and I was so happy to say the blessing over the challah and speak about my week both times I participated in the circle.

Afterwards everyone relaxes, Sykpes with their parents, and most people have Shabbat dinner with their host families.  At about 10pm, music starts to blast from various rooms, drinks are being made, and the night's plans have been decided, changed, and re-decided three times over.  Eden helps the boys by adjusting their barrets and Arielle is sure to pop in to everyone's room asking specifically about their weeks and checking in in a meaningful way.  You can hear Michal from down the hall as she tries to gauge the dress code for the night because of course, the whole group is going out to let loose for a night off.  Going into hilarious stories of trying to convince an Israeli sherut driver that sat 12 people (A sherut is like a mini van that picks people up on the side of the road and drives them to their destinations as long as they're all in the same direction- in Israel that either means North or South.  Sometimes a sherut will pick up enough people going to the same place that he'll just make a flat rate for the group and drive them directly to their destination.  I LOVED when that happened because it turns into a party-bus atmosphere and you feel special even though it's a pretty normal occurrence.) that he should drive a group of 15 of us going to a dance club over an hour away, other cab drivers taking pictures of our faces because apparently we were being rude and refusing to pay so we needed to be reported to the police...via iphone photos...(really, that happened), girls not being able to decide if they were going to get in the car or not and ultimately deciding to get dropped on the side of the road, and dogs with theoretical rabies are meant for another time.  But understanding how much these young adults function as a family for each other is fundamental to understanding how they make it through day by day, week by week.

Sam can spend an entire car ride talking to Michal about how he wants a girlfriend but no girl has enough spunk to handle him.  Michal will dance up a storm wherever we go and make sure the other girls are having fun with her not stopping until everyone is happy.  Mati won't see Jonah for over 8 weeks because they're never out at the same time but will still leave welcoming notes in the room for him and they are sure to talk regularly to keep each other up to date.  Danny will welcome anyone and everyone visiting for Shabbat with genuine conversation and a love for fun as long as they're wiling to be made fun of  a little by him.  Mattan who is in an amazing unit was told that he had to make a serious decision about continuing in the unit or not because of an injury and turned it around in the best possible way, ultimately hoping that it will place him in a unit with his friends Sam or Jonah from the garin.  Arielle is everyone's big sister and bestfriend, and Amy is always down to have fun and make the most out of the night- including screaming at a driver at 5am to just drive the extra 10 seconds to the correct buildings.  I didn't get to know Tom, Jacob or Jason too well but like everyone else they were just trying to chill with their friends, relax at the pool, and get some quality time in together before going back on base.  Gal's host family and real family got together and invited everyone over for a delicious Shabbat brunch.  Realities hit home when grandparents pass away in the States and the simple fact is these guys are in the army and can't make it home so they do what they can for each other.  They drink some whiskey, eat some schwarma, and talk about their families back home who seem so distant yet they all know exactly who has how many siblings and have probably all met each other's parents on video chats.  And there's more, so much more, that goes on to make sure everyone is taken care of both when they're home and on base for Shabbat.

 Two pictures of Garin Regba taken from facebook

So you get the idea... these guys and girls have become a family.  They laugh with each other and at each other.  They call to check up when someone is on base and they sit freely on each other's beds saying whatever is on their minds.  They go through ups and downs together.  They support each other and love one another as if they have been together their whole lives.  Sahar tagged the entire garin in a photo of a sign on facebook-- the sign said, "Sometimes friends are family, too."  They are not all best friends but they are all family.  They fight and confront each other (that time that Danny wanted to go to a club almost 2 hours away for his birthday and the girls tried to stage an intervention, emphasis on the word tried) but they do it out of love.  And that love, found in their conversations, phone calls, laughter, and dancing has alleviated one of my fears.  Jonah is not in this alone; none of them are.  Maybe his nuclear family who grew up in Natick, MA can't be there all the time, but his Garin Tzabar family can be, has been, and always will be.

Garin Regbah, I owe you a huge thank you.  Thank you for remembering to have fun after a shitty week of being worked tirelessly.  Thank you for dropping everything to catch up and look out for each other.  Thank you for remembering your convictions and serving your country, and all the while loving one another.  Thank you for being a family for each other when we can't be and alleviating our fears that you are there alone.  When you don't feel appreciated remember that you are.  You are more than you can ever fathom.

The two of us in Tel Aviv on my most recent trip 

You can read Jonah's not-so-frequently-updated blog here: http://jonahliben.blogspot.com/