When compassion and common sense collide (updated at end)

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I wasn't going to post a Ruby Tuesday shot today. I've got a shot, a good one I think, but my heart and mind are not on photography today.

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Even for those of us living in the safety of the center of the country the war has a way of intruding into the smallest most unexpected of places.

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Today it intruded into my life in one of those unforeseeable ways.

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My friend's husband died Sunday night. He was ill, though a sad loss it was not entirely unexpected. Even in wartime people still get sick, and sometimes die. This particular couple though lived in Ashdod, a coastal city in the South of Israel, a city where the bombs have been falling. This is the friend whose neighbor's home was hit. The funeral is today. And it is in Ashdod, as it should be for a family that has long since made this city their home.

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And I need to go there.

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This is a couple I care about. One I've known for many years. I need to be there to support my friend in her time of loss.

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And yet.

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And yet...

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I spent most of yesterday weighing the pros and cons. I'm not going to repeat them here, you can fill in the blanks yourselves. At the end of the day though, I feel I have to go. Many of my friends will be there too, I won't be alone. I won't even have to drive there alone, something that really frightened me (what if there's a siren and I'm lost in Ashdod and don't know where to go?). It's been quiet there the past two days, relatively speaking. Schools in the south are gradually reopening (they've been closed since Hannukah), at least the ones with bomb shelters and fortified rooms to use as classrooms. (So different from the Hamas who are storing their weapons in schools. We're using ours to shelter our children.)

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I thought of going instead to her home later in the week for the shiva (mourning period), but I decided that seeing that bombed out building right across the street would be too immediate a reminder for me, more than I was ready to handle.

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So I'm going today. We're going to go in, attend the funeral (held at graveside here in Israel), and get out again. The overwhelming likelihood is that nothing will happen and it will all be just fine.

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But still. I can't help but be afraid. Afraid to go in, and at the same time guilty that I have the luxury of making that decision. My own home is not under attack. I can leave any time. So many others, on both sides, cannot.

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So yes, the war has a way of intruding, even where you least expect it.

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While I'm gone this afternoon I will leave you with this reminder of a happier, quieter time - this detail of a pillow cover I had made from fabric I brought back from Thailand years ago. I believe it was meant to be a skirt, though I used it as a table runner for many years before having it made into two pillow covers.

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Update: I'm back home. It was a beautiful, quiet afternoon in Ashdod, and indeed my friend received great comfort from the large numbers of people who turned out to bid her husband farewell.
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Go fly a kite

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We took advantage of some beautiful warm weather today to throw the bikes, rollerskates and other assorted crap very important gear into the back of the car and headed for a new park just across town for a picnic with friends. (You've never seen over the top until you've seen Israelis pack for a picnic, complete with table, chairs, and the kitchen sink.) When we realized that we had the park to ourselves (it's a new one and somewhat hidden) I dashed home for the kids' new kites which were sitting in a closet waiting for their chance to soar.

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Can you tell that the theme for this week's Thematic Photographic is "new"?

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My thoughts go out to all those on both sides of this terrible conflict who just want to be able to enjoy simple pleasures like a day in the park with their children without fear. Please join me in hoping for a speedy and just end to this conflict, one that above all ensures the safety of ALL of our children.

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Tequila Sunset

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Click to enlarge

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More pictures from last week's spectacular sunset for this Skywatch Friday. Doesn't it remind you of a Tequila Sunrise Sunset?

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None of these images have been photoshopped - they didn't need it, nature did a more than adequate job by itself. The only processing done was the addition of the black frame.

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It's good that beauty can still be found even in such difficult times.

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North Church

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In a stunning display of ostrichship (yes, I fully accept that there is an awfully slim chance that that is a real word, but roll with me here) I'm taking a timeout from thinking about the war and posting a photo taken on a beautiful summer day clear across the other side of the world for this week's Sepia Scenes.

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The photo you see above was taken in Portsmouth's Market Square during our trip to New Hampshire last summer. The North Church congregation was founded in 1671 and resided in several building around the square during it's long history. The building you see in the photo was built in 1855 and its steeple quickly became one of Portsmouth's most recognizable symbols.

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The Day the War Started

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The day the war started was the final day of my parents' visit. We'd taken them down south to visit the Joe Alon Center, a living history museum celebrating the culture of the region's Bedouin tribes. On the way there we noticed quite a few planes flying in formation overhead. That's odd for a Saturday, I thought to myself. I wonder what's going on.
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Turns out we arrived at the museum just about the very moment that Israel began its bombardment of Gaza. Blissfully unaware, we had a lovely time visiting the museum and learning a bit more about Bedouin culture.

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The kids particularly enjoyed the miniature Bedouin tent. Maya spent quite a long time pretending to be the mommy and serving typical Bedouin food to her "children". I bet you didn't know that Bedouin eat spaghetti - with chopsticks!

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Mom (the real one) particularly liked the fact that they had a kids' play area set up right in the middle of the museum, with miniature Bedouin tent, puzzles made from photographs of typically Bedouin scenes, and even this strangely incongruous (but ruby red!) ride-on moose.

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It wasn't until we left the museum and headed to a nearby restaurant for lunch that we learned what was going on. So much for our lovely, peaceful visit. Reality returned with a vengeance.

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What's the code of behavior for blogging a war?

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It's a strange thing, figuring out how to act when your country is at war, when your friends and fellow citizens are being fired on, but your own life is going on business as usual.

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Do you blog only about the war? Not talk about it at all? Try to put "something" into every post so that people remember that the Hamas has been firing deadly rockets into Israeli towns for eight years, so people see that Israelis are not war-mongering while casually going on with their lives while Gaza burns?

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The south of the country is a living dichotomy. People trying to keep some semblance of normal while rockets rain down (27 so far today, and it's only three in the afternoon). Here in the center, life goes on. Yesterday I took my children to a much looked forward to children's holiday show, today it's board meetings and jujitsu and parent teacher conferences, except that one of the women at the board meeting has had rockets fall next to her kibbutz, and others had to stay away because of the war, and still others are worrying about children or friends in the army.

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It's not quite life as usual.

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So what is the etiquette for blogging during wartime for those of us who've chosen not to live-blog the war? Do you obsess about the war? Hard enough not to do in real life, will doing it on the blog make it even worse? Do I reassure all you readers that I'm fine, and present my life as some degree of normal so that you don't worry, or do I present the situation as it exists in other areas of the country to present an alternative to the international press you tell me is showing only one side of the story?

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Damned if I know.
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Here, have a photo instead.

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And in the midst of it all

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How quickly things can change. While I was writing this post they announced that Israel has finally begun the long-awaited and equally dreaded ground invasion of Gaza. Israel held off as long as it possibly could, and tried every other method possible, but the moment has come. There is no alternative. All my thoughts and whatever prayers I know how to offer are with our soldiers and those in the South as we begin this new and infinitely more difficult phase.
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Send whatever good thoughts you've got our way. We're going to need them in the days to come.
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Taken from my rooftop balcony this evening. These are straight out of the camera, the only thing I did to them is add the frame. Incredible, isn't it?

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I can only hope that those in the south had a chance to see this incredible beauty this evening, instead of seeing terror raining down from the skies, to remember that there is good in the world, and beauty, and the hope of peaceful days to come.

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(I should probably have saved these for Skywatch Friday, but they were too good to wait. Maybe I'll post more then - I took nearly forty. )

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Too close for comfort

We're still out of range, but that eight-story apartment building in Ashdod that got a direct hit yesterday?

My friend lives in the building next door.

Gaza War - Putting things into perspective

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Please watch this short (2.33 min) video, and if you comment here, please keep it respectful.
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Thank you.
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Study of a doorway as avoidance mechanism

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Yes, there is a war on. No, my family is not in range. Yes, it's stressful anyway as I worry about those I know, and all those I don't, within rocket range or wearing a uniform and wonder how close the rockets will eventually come. I figure blogging and compulsive photoshopping is as good a way of any to not obsess about the war any more than necessary to stay informed and to avoid thinking about the fact that we the people of the world have apparently learned nothing in the past year (why should we, we haven't any other year?) and are going to screw things up just as badly in 2009 as we did in 2008. So much for the hope of a bright new year.

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So here. Look. Pictures.

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First, here's the straight out of the camera shot. Nice subject, but not spectacular. It's got character though, so let's see what it can do.

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This one really highlights the door's old and falling apart antique feel. Nice, but it still doesn't really do it for me. A lot of the story of this facade is told in its fading colors, I feel you lose too much of that by omitting them.

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Back to my lonely writer's photographer's garret (bonus points if you can identify the quote; hint: it's from a 1970's song) for another attempt.

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Bingo!

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This one I like. It's got grit. It's got color. It's got texture. And, it's still got that old and forlorn feel to it. Pay dirt.

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Which one gets your vote?

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My very best wishes to all of you for a happy, healthy, and above all PEACEFUL new year.
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Visit Sepia Scenes to see what's on everyone else's minds this week, photographically speaking.
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War in Gaza

Hannah says it better than I can.

For those who have been e-mailing to ask whether my family is alright, I thank you for your concern and want to reassure you that we are fine. I live in the center of the country, about 15 minutes from Hannah and safely out of range of Hamas' deadly rocket barrage. My thoughts go out to all those in the south though, who live, and have lived for eight long, frightening years, under constant threat of attack as rockets landed on their homes, their schools, and their playgrounds, and who are now hoping against hope that a way will be found to stop the terror so they can once again live in peace.