One thing I love about Israel is the sheer amount of history you can run into in the course of a day, assuming you bother to talk to anyone. I have lots of friends here, so I talk to way more people than I usually do when travelling.
I’m on the phone with my friend Avraham, who has a bit of a rough voice from having led two whole days’ worth of Rosh Hashana services, and I’m talking about possible places to stay in Jerusalem. If one isn’t pinching one’s pennies, one has an interestingly broad choice.
I’m saying, “I want to stay in that hotel — what’s its name? — that Menachem Begin blew up. Part of it, at least. (Meaning, that Begin didn’t manage to blow up all of the thing, just part.) (I like to be specific.)”
“Oh, the King David,” says Avraham. “He didn’t blow it up. I used to know the guy who did.”
“But I thought he (Begin) was in the Irgun, or was it the Stern Gang?”
“I’m not sure… But he wasn’t the one who really did it,” says Avraham. “When I first came to Israel, I had an odd job in this government office. This man, I forget his name, had a job for life there, and he never had to do anything. He used to come in once every two weeks or so to say hi to people. He was the one who did it, though.”
So, having hung up from the conversation with Avraham, I contemplate the fact that perhaps history books are a little too safe, or maybe not safe enough.
Playing: Cocoon from the album “On and On” by Jack Johnson
Playing: Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again from the album “Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits Volume II” by Bob Dylan
white pebble 