'Merka. Fuck yeah.

First off, does “Little House on the Prairie” come in Hebrew? Must research…

Well, happy fourth everybody!

First off, let me warn you that what follows is a lot of homesickness, but it doesn’t mean that I’m about to give up and go back to the US or anything. It’s just part of moving to a new country, okay? So:
I got to admit, I hate not being in the US for Independence Day. I hate that I’m gonna miss the BBQ’s, the Galaxy game, the fireworks…everything. In fairness, having experienced Yom Ha’Aztmaut in Israel makes me realize that I don’t ever want to be in the US again on Yom Ha’Atzmaut……but today is my day to be a little homesick. Not homesick enough to want to go home, but homesick enough to be a little sad.
Because tonight there are hot dogs out there in the world, being grilled thousands of miles away, that I’m not eating! Nooo! (And I miss the fact that “Independence Day” will be on TV, and I’ll miss that fact that many little girls will be forced by their mothers to dress ‘adorably’ patriotic—when I was little, I had a red/white/blue bow for my hair that my mother bought me to wear only on the Fourth of July every year…..thank G-d I grew up!)

I suppose the worst part of all of this is that I feel like celebrating and shouting HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY at people, but because most people here are Israeli or at least not American, everyone would be like, “You missed it by two months, you retard!” So instead I put on some patriotic music and sat by myself for a while.

Just listened to “America the Beautiful,” and it reminded me of elementary school. Sometime around the age of 8 during one of the millions of times we had to sing it during music class, I decided I didn’t like the first verse and instead decided to sing my favorite verse, which is the one about how America’s beautiful for having heros that died for it and loved the country more than themselves. So the class starts singing the first verse, and I’m singing the third verse—and I have the world’s worst voice, but when I get into it I don’t give a shit and I sing LOUD. And then the music teacher stops the entire class, and demands to know who the hell is 1) not singing the correct verse and 2) BUTCHERING the song. And everyone looks at me. So I get into an argument with the music teacher, and he tells me I have to sing the first verse, I tell him I don’t like the first verse, and he tells me that that’s not the point, and so I tell him that I don’t care what the point is and that I like the third verse. And I got kicked out of class for the day…..

I still hate the first verse. With a fiery passion. When I was little I didn’t like it cos it didn't have the word "heros" like the other verse, but now I’ve thought about it more and realized what my problem is: if you’re gonna call a song “America the Beautiful,” you could get a little creative and describe something OTHER than physical beauty in the first verse. Don’t get me wrong, I think the U.S. is tied with Israel for being the most beautiful country in the world, but you shouldn’t want to live in a country just because it’s beautiful to look at. You go on vacation to a country just because it’s beautiful to look at, but you don’t LIVE there. A country’s gotta have more than that. I mean, if people really are dying for the country, as described in the verse I like, then I sure hope they’re not just dying for the country cos it has some nice scenery. Am I right?

I’ve also been thinking a lot about how my two independence days will be celebrated in the future, when hopefully I’ll be an Israeli citizen but still also an American. At first I thought that’d be confusing and that I’d feel guilty for celebrating the national holiday of a country other than the one I’m living in, but then I realized that at least in my case I can agree on both sides that no one likes the British. And if I still think my situation is confusing, I can look to two of my friends: one has British, American, and Israeli citizenship. On the Fourth of July does he celebrate his country’s independence….from his country? On Yom Ha’Atzmaut, does he do the same? But if he thinks THAT’s bad, he can look at our other friend: A German who has British, American and Israeli citizenship. How the fuck does one reconcile that???


Anyway, there was one person who tried to share my happiness with me. It was very sweet, but a little bit bizarre. Today at work Astrology Bitch asked me if I was homesick, and I said that sometimes I am and that today I am just because it’s Independence Day. And we were speaking English, so she said, “Oh yes, that’s right, I forgot! Congratulations!” I didn’t quite understand why she was saying “Congratulations” so I gave her a confused look. So she said again, “Congratulations. …..Mazel tov.” But I was still confused. Why was I being congratulated? What hard work had I done? Yes, I personally declared independence from the British back in 1776. Yes, I personally spent that harsh winter with George Washington (was it Valley Forge?), and I personally dressed as an Indian and dumped tea into the Boston Harbor. My brothers and father personally fought in the Revolutionary War, and I was that Molly Pitcher or whatever lady. I tarred and feathered loyalists, and it was me who made a midnight ride screaming “The British are coming!” When I wasn’t sitting at home stitching my sampler like a good colonial woman, I was refusing to give lodging to a redcoat and at the same time inspiring one of the rights in the Bill of Rights.

But you know what? I kind of like it. “Congratulations.” It made me feel like, though I didn’t have anything to do with what happened over couple hundred years ago, I had something to do with the US’s success and existence just by living in it. And, well….that’s kind of cool. And I think hopefully it’d be the same for me in Israel. I’m gonna live here and maybe even be a soldier, and on Yom Ha’Atzmaut maybe someone will tell me “Congratulations!” and I’ll be like, “DAMN STRAIGHT, SON!”


Anyway, there’s this New York lady who has lived on the kibbutz for many years who just got transferred to work in the laundry room like two weeks ago. She’s really annoying because her table is in the path of the AC so she’s always cold. But if you turn off the AC or lower it so that it’s not cold for her, the rest of the room feels like a sweaty bat ass. But she refuses to put on a jacket and instead insists that the AC is either turned off or turned to a temperature that is comfortable for her and only her.

So I’ve been getting really sweaty at work. I’ve been wearing short sleeves and sandals and such, though it still is too hot in that room, but I can’t very well show up to work in only my underwear—I understand that Israel is extremely casual, but I’m sure they draw the line somewhere.

So today she shows up and insists that we turn off the AC again, and French Bitch reluctantly complies. So I turn to the American woman and talk to her in English (as a matter of principle I do not speak in anything but English to other Americans just because it doesn’t make any fucking sense to speak to each other in a language that neither of you are good at. I mean, this lady has been here for a while but she still isn’t as good at it as she is with English. I have made exceptions though, for example when I’m in a group of people where there are some Americans and some non-English speakers I’ll speak Hebrew because otherwise it’s rude).

So anyway, I say to her in English in my most polite/sweet/whatever voice, “Look, if the AC bothers you, I don’t mind switching with you. You can sit at my table where you’ll have a comfortable temperature and I’ll sit at your table—which would be great for me because I’d actually prefer to be a bit chilly! What do you think?”

And then she looks as though her head is about to explode. She looks like she has OCD. She bursts out in this crazy voice, “No, I’d really prefer to sit here, OKAY???” And she’s like shaking a little.

Holy fuck, what did I do?? I was trying to be polite, I was trying to do something that would make everyone happy and comfortable!
Clearly this woman is crazy, I thought to myself. Clearly.

And I was right.
A couple hours later the lady burst out crying. Like sobbing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a grown woman cry like that, not even my mother. Like lady had a total breakdown. In the middle of the fucking laundry room. I mean, I’ve had many breakdowns since coming to this country, but I at least had the grace to wait until AFTER I got away from the Women of the Wash to completely freak out, with snot running out of my nose and my eyes all bloodshot and everything. The lady was sobbing so hard I thought she couldn’t breathe, and there were tears everywhere.

The Women of the Wash tried to comfort her, and she kept repeating, like a broken record and a broken woman, “I can’t do it anymore!” Total mess. I just sat in the back of the room and tried to be as small as possible because I honestly had no idea what I was supposed to do. Eventually the woman’s husband came and she plowed right into his arms and sobbed all over him. He stroked her hair and led her away, hopefully to the loony bin.

I think the lady’s breakdown had something to do with the laundry room and aliyah. She’s gotten progressively worse (sadder and quieter and such) since coming to the laundry room, and the Women of the Wash aren’t too nice to her. Also, she’s been here for years and even has Israeli children but her Hebrew still isn’t that great and she’s still VERY VERY American, and the Women of the Wash frequently talk to her in English even though she responds in Hebrew. I think that must be really rough on her.

So she had gone and there was this horrible silence. There have been very few times where I’ve seen Israelis awkward and silent, but this was one of them.

Well, it’s been an interesting day to say the least.