
This is the pile of memories…
Is this my desk, or the insides of my mind? Anyway – it’s a mess. That’s how it is when you’re caring for parents from afar. Continue reading This is the pile of memories…
Sailing on Dry Land – Audrey Weinberg
Lived an extraordinary life as a kid. My writing is creative non-fiction; any personal history is subjective at best and downright tales at worst.
Is this my desk, or the insides of my mind? Anyway – it’s a mess. That’s how it is when you’re caring for parents from afar. Continue reading This is the pile of memories…
Who knew business would boom during this pandemic? We are learning with our students in the CCE project. Come and pick up some gifts! Continue reading Doing business online in Corona times! “Need a Gift?”
Who am I and where do I belong? I think Corona is erasing borders, faster than it’s spreading. Continue reading Why I don’t believe in Nationalism
Who doesn’t love the stress of a New Year’s Challenge? Me! Still, I’ve signed up for the 365 Writing Challenge! Continue reading New Year 2021 – New Writing Challenge 365
These past few days my dad and I have had a steady ongoing conversation, something that doesn’t happen that often. After years where he tried to interest me in science, politics, stamp collecting and the like, we finally found the one thing we’re both passionate about: Kimchee. Continue reading The Kimchee Chronicles
“Keep on getting back on the horse,” she said. I did that, literally, about 4 years ago. I’d taken some … Continue reading Writing / Riding Lessons
Sunday afternoon Existential Musings It’s 4:30 on a Sunday afternoon, and the sun has set. Dusk is darkening the room … Continue reading Sunday – Inspired
It’s freezing in this room, although outside I’m sure it’s much worse. I resist the urge to flip over my … Continue reading Writer’s Block – ARGGHHHH!
So, I’m on food blogs about half the time I’m online, checking out other people’s recipes, and slowly but surely, … Continue reading Healthy Granola Recipe
Yom HaZikaron
“Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” John Donne
I go to sleep late, as usual in these weird Corona days. Before I shut off my phones for the night , I check my WhatsApp messages one more time. Simon asks me briefly if I want to join the online Azkara of his brother the next day… Of course! I answer, but what time, and I ask him to please send me the link.
Gidon died in the horrible helicopter crash in 1997. I think it was 1997. I know it was while my son, Yarden, was coping with his aggressive cancer; he was only about 3 at the time, when we got the terrible news that Gidon had died. The night it happened, I remember noticing how loud the wind howled through the apartment. Pauline and Charles arrived soon afterwards from London, and years later Charles told me how they had both seen Gidon’s face reflected in the window of the airplane, as they flew on their saddest trip ever to Israel, to bury their youngest son.