“Hag”log: More food.
My Dad’s contribution to today’s lunch at my sister’s (I get the feeling she’s not fussy about Our Sis so I’m dropping it until I can think of anything better) was a killer apple pie. No really, the best. And guess what? He bought it! This was the best apple pie I’ve ever tasted. I kid you not. My Dad is developing a considerable reputation as a vendee. This would be trivial anywhere else in the world but developing this talent of his requires my Dad to regularly risk his life in central Netanya.

My folks are tough cookies. They refuse to be intimidated by the threat of exploding people and continue to roam Netanya freely and enjoy its coffee shops and restaurants, guarded or not, regardless. You’d think the Hamas and the Fatah were fighting for an Island off New Zealand. You’d think the not yet constructed security fence was not only already upright but it was the Great Wall of China. Moreover, they have no intentions of letting Saddam change their daily itinerary, either, when he commences with his noxious party piece. No scuttling into security rooms for them. No fleeing the city for haven in rural hideaways. Their living room is good enough, thank you very much.

Good for them. Way to go.

Actually, this is quite ridiculous. It’s not as if I’ve changed anything in my life. Why should they, just because there have been more terrorist attacks in Netanya than in Tel Aviv of late? The last mass-event we went to was a very large peace rally on the 4th November 1995, known the world over as the night Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated. Actually I didn’t even go to that, just Bish and our eldest daughter, who was just four years old at the time. We make an exception once a year when we return to Rabin Square to see the fireworks on the eve of Independence Day. We even went this year, in the height of the terrorist attacks. Us and fourteen others.