How many seconds does it take four kids from 9 years to 2 years to get from one’s terrace to one’s safe room? I got the answer this past Shabbat. Five seconds!
After hearing my phone app of Red Alert going off many times during Friday night and continuing pretty much non-stop into Saturday, and noting the nearby communities—Yad Mordechai, Sderot, Kibbutz Or haNer, etc.—it was not out of the question that a rocket or two might be launched at Ashkelon.
My daughter Stephanie, her husband Mordechai and their kids were staying with us for Shabbat. As my phone kept buzzing with Code Red alerts, the children asked what was going on. I answered as honestly but as basically as I could, that Hamas was sending rockets to the south of Israel. (I left out the fact that actually we are also in the south.) I said that I didn’t think it would happen, but if a siren should sound, they should immediately run to their bedroom (which is the mamad). And we were having a lovely time. But I was having second thoughts about the trip to the local park I’d planned with the children the day before. I discussed my concerns with the grownups, and we decided should a Code Red siren occur while we were at the park, we would all run to the park’s nearby wall and lie down near it. All the kids agreed they would help grandma up.
Luckily we finished our park foray, complete with the mandatory water breaks and snacks. Not quite five minutes after we got back home, and we were enjoying the pleasures of the mirpeset (terrace), the siren sounded.
Without any hysteria, the kids ran into the room. My husband David closed the heavy metal door and the steel window shutters of the mamad. We each found a place to sit and wait for the requisite 10 minutes. Happily, the kids’ nightlight gave a warm glow to the room. While we were getting used to this new situation, I praised the kids for how wonderful they were and how they got to the safe room so quickly. The oldest child explained that it was just as they practiced in school, but that she never thought she’d experience a “real” one. We agreed she’d have some good story to tell her school friends.
I do enjoy the beauty of the South. I totally appreciate my magnificent view of the Mediterranean from my mirpeset. I love that vibrant kibbutz farms are nearby. I love the sort of South Florida casual pace of Ashkelon.
But I hate how the world news media portrays Israel. I hate how there’s little coverage of the thousands of acres of many destroyed wheat fields, decimated bee colonies, charred woodland animals, precious forests and rare flowers due to “demonstrators” flying kites, balloons and helium-filled condoms attached to fiery explosives. Unless someone is killed here, the fact that almost 200 rockets fell in a span of 24 hours is not worthy of a mention on the news.
I can’t join the IDF. They won’t take me. (Good choice.) But we feel we do our bit for Israel by just living here. By not going when it gets tough. And really, we’re not scared. Just angry that as Israel celebrates its 70th year, the world’s anti-Semitic instincts comes down hard on us here.
Fran Levine made aliyah to Ashkelon three years ago. For more than 30 years she lived in Highland Park, New Jersey. She enjoys her Mediterranean life, visiting with friends and family and traveling the Land of Israel.
By Fran Levine
