you in Hell! Random thoughts out of Israel’s worst
heatwave since the last one.
Sunday the weather starts warming up, and the weatherMA-person
says it should break by Tuesday, but by Monday night he’s already saying
till Thursday, and the Wednesday report says it’s gong to be hotter still
and even more and the only thing
they can find to comfort us with is that in Iran its 52 and you have to keep
your veil on. Rav Sanjanee briefly flirted with the
idea of hosting a wet purdah competition for this hammest of the hammseens,
but was quickly voted down by his cabinet because of the suggestively forbidden terms such as “wet” “flirt” “briefly” and “idea.”
The air conditioner is on overdrive and you can only feel it
if you’re right inside grid, and by now you realize that you’re in for one
of those long ones and the weathermen don’t know S- H I . ning sun from roasting sun.
You go to change your shirt
yet again, and the new one is drenched in sweat even before you put it on.
And the news comes on, and you realize that the way the weather people have
no idea if it’s ever going to cool down, but go on with their predictions
anyway, that’s what the people who are running the country are doing with
Everybody talks about the weather, said Oscar Wildly, but Only a religious
right winger, would actually
try to do something about it, and the way the winds are blowing in today’s climate she would probably get arrested before she
I don’t live in Tel Aviv or Haifa, thank G-d, because – though the
actual temperature is cooler, and you get a nice breeze off the sea from 6:15
to 6:25, as long as you are living on the 10 foot strip of sand and stinging
jellyfish that forms the border between the Mediterranean and the solid wall
of high risers that the T A real estate developers put up to defend the fledgling
state from comfort and environmentalists.
The thermometer hovers around 32 but the catch is the humidity. As the heat wave – or Shaarav (translation “Why didn’t Moses go
to Caanada”) rolls on, the sea steams up and the humidity goes so high that
your sweat glands back up.
Kiriat Shmona is drier, We’re on the Etsba—the
Galilee finger or “Pan handle”, a particularly hot strip of territory flowing
from Rosh Pina to Metulla. Just
now it feels like the finger just got stuck in the oven, or somebody stuck
the pan in the fire backward. This
brings me to our fridj.
We don’t have a new fridj. Our
first fridj came with my wife, who, when I finally agreed to marry her, still
had immigrants’ rights to purchase the 5 basic household appliances: a fridj, stove, TV , washing machine and
greedy Israeli mate; in this case me.. 19 years of marriage have etched many changes into
the body and soul of my wife, but some of them are
good ones. I can’t say as much for the fridj.
It works well enough until somebody open’s the door to get a drink. Then, as the repairman explains with a
shrug of his whole body, it starts to suck up moisture. It sucks up so much moisture that the
St. Peter’s fish in the Kineret have been heard to recite the Shma. And then, when the door is closed again,
it turns it into ice. So the
next time I want a salami sandwich, I find the sausage frozen into a huge
block of ice, starting from way in the back, and moving forward with a grinding
noise. I swear that the last
time took a hammer to it to carve out some margarine, I found long, coarse
hairs which the lab claims are woolly mammoth, all over Leonardo de Caprio’s
All it takes is my son to leave
the door open. When the
crest of the heat wave meets the tip of the Silverberg iceberg, you get a
clap of thunder like Matter meeting Antimatter and Fadda meeting Antifadda. We scatter for the shelter only to remember
that it’s still being built. But it’s underground, and cool and dark, and
a good place for the family to get together for some quality time and pray
/B Z S, July 25, 200000