Carnival of the Cats
This week’s Carnival of the Cats comes to us courtesy of the beautiful Ferdinand and his human pet Bruce at The Conservative Cat.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Monday, September 05, 2005
Cats in My Life
I don’t have any cats of my own. But that doesn’t prevent me from having cats in my life.
Remember Hillel, who likes to lie down on my backpack? This time he left it alone, going for bigger and better things, like my lap. I didn’t complain too much. Smart cat—he’s figured out which of the two is more fun.
See his throat? Thanks to good veterinary care, the injury has long since healed. All that’s left of it is a straight, narrow scar. Thank goodness.
This fellow lives near my apartment building. For a while I got him confused with Mr. Neighborcat (whom you’ll meet in a bit). I haven’t figured out what to call him yet, but isn’t he beautiful?
I’ve learned to decipher at least one of the calls of the Palestine Sunbird couple who live in our garden. It’s the frantic one that shouts: Intruder! Predator! Cat! Cat! Cat!
Here are two reasons why I heard that call this morning. Her Ladyship was on one side of the garden ...
... and Mr. Neighborcat was on the other.
It’s no wonder those little birds stay so high up.
Finally, here is a cat near my workplace, in meditation.
Doesn’t he look like he knows something really profound? I think so.
Haveil Havalim #35 Is Up
Check out Israel Perspectives for the thirty-fifth edition of Haveil Havalim.
The Incredible Shrinking Women’s Section
Until a few years ago, the outdoor women’s section at the Western Wall in Jerusalem was roughly one-third the size of the men’s. The situation in terms of indoor space (so important during the rainy season and the blazing heat of summer) is even less equitable: women have a tiny room on the women’s side and a little-known narrow corridor on the men’s side that does not even reach the Western Wall, while men have a spacious indoor area at their disposal.
When I was at the Western Wall recently, I was surprised to see that the women’s section had shrunk even further:
The explanation is simple enough. Several years ago Jerusalem had a spate of heavy rain, followed by a mild earthquake. As a result, part of the slope to the right of the women’s section just below the Mughrabi Ascent crumbled, spilling earth and stones into the women’s section. For the next several years part of the women’s section was closed off, and an additional divider was placed in the men’s section, giving the women slightly more space. That temporary divider has since been removed, and now there is scaffolding to the right of the women’s section. As things now stand, the outdoor women’s section at the Western Wall is roughly one-quarter the size of the men’s section.
I wrote to the Western Wall Heritage Foundation, asking for an explanation. I received the following reply from Yaakov Reichert (who did not include his title, so I cannot provide it here):
Thank you for expressing interest in what’s going on at the Kotel. As a result of the recent earthquake the Mughrabi Ascent has become dangerous. As a result of this misfortune we are now able to excavate it when we were not allowed to prior. This will allow us to expand the women's prayer area more than it had been before we started the excavations. I apologize for the temporary inconvenience it is a tight fit now.
Currently the area by Wilson's arch has been temporarily closed off as a result of renovation and preservation work which is taking place there. We are renovation the area in order to expand it which will provide more room for both men and women to pray. In addition we are working to preserve the archeology of the site.
I wrote back, asking when the work would be done, but have received no reply so far.
Anyway, the Western Wall website is fascinating, with several live-streaming webcams—one of which is at Wilson’s Arch, where the excavations are taking place.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Camera Therapy
Sometimes people need a little camera therapy.
So here’s a pomegranate split on the tree. Mmmm, looks delicious!
Olives ripening on the branch:
Here’s a bee in a rosemary flower:
A moth drinking some rosemary nectar. (He’d better be careful. That stuff’ll really wake you up.)
Another bee in the rosemary patch. Note the tattered wings. This bee’s been around.
It was easier to take this picture. Those bees are fast on the rosemary blossoms. Here they take a bit longer.
Back at the rosemary bush, we have liftoff:
And that’s our camera therapy session for today. Shabbat shalom, and go donate.
Blogging for Hurricane Relief
The Truth Laid Bear. Meryl Yourish. Laurence Simon. LGF. Michelle Malkin. Strengthen the Good. Instapundit. And Harrison at The Terriorists, for all the animals displaced by the hurricane.
Each of the above links contains many other links to organizations involved in hurricane relief. I put them at the bottom of my last post. I'm putting them up again, at the top of this one.
A friend of mine who lives here in Israel is originally from New Orleans. She was born and raised there, and still has close family living there.
That is, she had close family living there until a few days ago. They were lucky enough to escape with their lives, but not much else. Now they are in a strange city where they know no one, and they have no home to go back to—unless someone’s thought of a way to live under ten feet of severely polluted water.
My friend’s family and thousands of others in the same situation need our prayers and donations—not necessarily in that order.
To paraphrase the message on another friend’s answering machine: You know what this is. You know what to do.
Click. Donate. Help.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Finding Reasons
I’ve come across way too many posts lately that talk about Hurricane Katrina as being punishment for one thing or another—either the “sinful” atmosphere of New Orleans or, even more bizarre, the United States’s role in the disengagement from Gaza.
Forgive me if I’m blunt. I find such “justifications” offensive and disgusting. They make God out to be as bad as the worst of human beings: narrow, petty, vindictive. And the people who peddle this garbage set themselves up as God’s prophets and judges on earth. That’s pretty presumptuous of them, to say the least.
I e-mailed a dear friend of mine today with a sad, tongue-in-cheek observation about Hurricane Katrina: “I guess that’s Mother Nature in a really bad mood.”
To which she replied, sensibly:
Actually, it's mother nature doing what comes naturally, which is punishing men for their inequities—I don't mean moral ones, but the stupid ones like ignoring the fact that NO is below sea level and not building a drainage system.
I have to say that frankly, I wonder whether any drainage system that exists in the world today could have dealt with Katrina’s terrible blow to the Gulf Coast. But in any case, my friend is absolutely right. Not that Mother Nature was consciously punishing anyone—that isn’t what she meant. Simply that what happened was a natural event that we might have been better prepared for. Hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanoes—all these things are part of the world we live in. Today we are fortunate enough to have technology to predict them and ways to prepare for them. It’s up to us to use them in the best way possible. If we don’t, that is our own failure, not divine punishment.
To move this a bit closer to home: Israel sits on a fault line. We live in earthquake country over here, and scientists say we’re due for a big one sooner rather than later. Although we have had plenty of warning in the form of several small earthquakes over the past several years, adherence to building codes is not a strong suit for many contractors here. So whose fault will it be when the substandard buildings collapse in the next big quake? How much sense does it make to blame God for it when we could—and should—be doing something about it right now?
I refer those who would have us believe that Hurricane Katrina—or any form of human suffering, for that matter—is divine punishment to Psalms 115:16: “The heavens belong to God, but the earth he gave over to human beings.”
Meaning that the responsibility for dealing with things like this belongs exclusively to us. Blaming them on God is an abdication of that responsibility. Even worse, it’s a form of giving ourselves permission to sit by and do nothing. After all, if God punished these people, who are we to contradict the Divine Will? Better leave them to their fate.
Feh.
If we want to look for the Hand of God, we will find it by opening our hearts and wallets, and helping the survivors as much as possible.
For a much more eloquent post on this topic, read Elisson: Tikkun Olam.
And for ways to help the survivors, each of the following sites has lots of links to various aid organizations: The Truth Laid Bear. Meryl Yourish. Laurence Simon. LGF. Michelle Malkin. Strengthen the Good. Instapundit. And Harrison at The Terriorists has lots of links to help pets displaced by the hurricane.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Hurricane Relief
LGF has an excellent round-up of where and how to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina. There is additional information in the comments.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
A Do-Over
I just re-did the photographs for one of my recent posts, “This Morning Is for the Birds.” They’re much better now. Go catch it here.
I’m learning.
Jerusalem Wildlife
I had a lot of fun with my camera today after work. (Picasa helped, too.)
Unlike the speaker in Tom Lehrer’s “Hunting Song,” who had to shlep home two game wardens, seven hunters and a cow, I returned from my expedition with pictures of some local Jerusalem fauna: the Palestine sunbird who hangs out in our yard, a parakeet couple and two cats. Here they are.
Mr. Sunbird sips some nectar ...
Who else do you know who can eat lunch upside down?
Ahhh. That hit the spot.
In brief flight. I caught this one by accident.
Later in the day: Almost bedtime for the local Jerusalem parakeet population ...
The parakeet in the tree appears to be the mate of the parakeet in the photograph below. (The sunbird has a mate, too, but I haven’t been able to photograph her yet.) I don’t know what was happening here, but judging from the vocal exchange that went on between them, I’d guess that the parakeet in the tree was saying: “Come on, honey, it’s time to go to sleep,” while its mate, on the building, insisted: “Just a little longer, dear. I’ll be right there, I promise.”
On my way home, a most irresistible tiger took over my lap. I had no choice but to yield ...
Well, all right, he just looks a bit like a tiger. Cute little fellow, isn’t he?
And finally: Her Ladyship snoozing on a convenient stone wall. Ahhh, this is the life ...
I tell you, that cat has it made.
Check out this week’s Friday Ark at The Modulator.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Friday, August 26, 2005
Hitchin’ a Ride
Before anyone gets the wrong idea from the picture below, Her Ladyship would like to make sure that we humans have a few things straight. One, she is not a basket case. Two, she is not going to hell in a handbasket.
My friend, Her Ladyship’s human companion, is scrupulous about putting her old newspapers in the recycling bin up the street. She takes the papers outside in a plastic market basket while Her Ladyship waits in the garden. When she returns, Her Ladyship jumps into the empty basket to ride the rest of the way home.
Now that’s what I call devotion.
(Check out the Carnival of the Cats at Annoying Little Twerp this week, and the Friday Ark at The Modulator.)
Good News from the Bus Stop
I was at this major bus hub in Tel Aviv today and saw something that restored my faith in humanity at least a bit. Here’s part of the array of bus stops ...
There’s a kind of guardhouse on the other side. I spotted some plastic dishes under the stairwell. What could they be?
On closer inspection:
Fresh cat food and clean water. Isn’t that lovely?
The Rule of the Velvet Paw
Her Ladyship came out to greet me when I came home last night. When I started to pet her, she appeared to be enjoying it and even lay down near me. But when I pressed my hand to the ground to change my position so that I could reach her more easily, she pounced and nipped the back of my hand, drawing blood.
I don’t know why that happened. Usually Her Ladyship lets me know when she’s had enough attention and wants to be left alone, and even if she doesn’t, most of the time I know when to back off. I figure that the way I positioned or moved my hand may have triggered her hunting reflexes, and she went after the “prey” before she could stop herself.
Well, that was last night. This afternoon Her Ladyship came out to see me as I was leaving to go to Tel Aviv. I greeted her and asked if she would like to be petted. She approached and sniffed my feet, and the next thing I knew, she was using my foot as a pillow:
Could this be an expression of reconciliation or perhaps affection? Or is Her Ladyship simply claiming fealty?
The Guest in the Garden
When I looked down from my terrace this afternoon, this is what I saw:
This orange fellow lives in the building next door. I would like to make friends with him but every time I try he runs away, meowing at the top of his lungs. Once I even found him in the stairwell of my building. The moment we saw each other, he flew down the stairs, a frantic orange blur.
Well, I hope he had a nice rest.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Sad
Well, I am. There’s no getting around it.
I don’t talk much about my personal life or inner feelings on this blog. There’s a reason for that: I’m a private person, and the Internet is as public as it gets. So I tend to keep the shutters drawn pretty tight. I like my privacy.
Still ... I just came back from shiva at Yonina’s apartment a while ago. I met her daughters and some of her grandchildren, which was great, though of course I can’t help wishing that we might have met under happier circumstances.
I got to share stories about Yonina with her daughters as they showed us some of her photo albums. At one point, when they were discussing her involvement in the folk-music scene, they asked each other where her banjo was. I was glad to be able to tell them. (She gave it to a local banjo player several years back.)
Through it all, there was a persistent feeling of “last.” For example, I found myself thinking: This is the last time I’ll ever see this apartment. This is the last time I’ll ever sit on this chair. And I remembered how often I had sat there when Yonina was alive and we talked for hours while she gave me guidance or one of her wonderful treatments, or while I massaged her feet. This feeling, though sad, wasn’t anything particularly acute or dramatic. It was more like a strong and steady awareness of finality: that for me this was the end of an era, one of the most important of my life.
When Yonina’s healing course began, she told us: “The one thing I am willing to guarantee about this course is that it will change your life. I’m willing to sign to that.” In my case she was absolutely right. I owe her a great deal, and wherever she is, I love her very much.
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