Proud to be an American in Israel

 

The Western Wall, Jerusalem

As we age we find life full of ironies, and FD and I often remark that sheltering from Iranian missiles, not nukes from the USSR, is ironic. We are living the precautionary tale of the fifties, hardly warmed over. 

Years ago, as elementary school children in the USA, school districts mandated drills (I don't remember what they called them). Six hundred miles away from one another, the two of us, similarly instructed to hide under our desks, as if that would make any difference should the Russians be sending a nuclear bomb our way.

But that was the Cold War,. anything possible, and so we scrunched under our desks as did  hundreds of thousands of other children.  

In my T-shirt drawer, I spot it, the blue one with the white stars, the one that screams Fourth of July, and I think, this is perfect because I’m proud to be an American. I really am. I haven't said that in a long time. 

Proud to be an American

In Ulpan (arduous intense, dreaded Hebrew language classes intended to integrate new immigrants into the culture and language of the country) students are routinely asked, first day, where they come from. FD and I always say, sleepy bored and disinterested, the USA. 

Side bar: it is interesting that the Hebrew words for the United States are States of the Covenant. I've always liked that. 

When we identify ourselves as Americans it isn't with any grandiosity or pride. We are merely new Israelis, proud to be Israeli with duo-citizenship that we take proud in, having dual citizenship. America, our first home, is still home. We are property owners, we pay taxes, America the home of the free. But being proud to be an American, an Italian, Russian, French, Venezuelan, Polish, Moroccan, you name it, isn't something anyone ever dwells upon in Ulpan.

But now. Well, let's dwell upon it, being American.

What a difference a day makes, Proud to be an American for over 24 hours. 

The pride has struggled to leech out until now, supplanted by fear for the future of the country of origin, troubled of late, divided and vulnerable. But yesterday that pride burst forth, cracked open the hearts of every cynic, the hearts of every American in Israel. It had to have affected each and every one of us, and in a very good way. A big-hearted way.

President Trump defied Congress, chose to be on the right side of history, destroyed the nuclear capability of a real, pervasive threat, not an existential threat not only a threat to one geographical region, but a threat to the entire world . 

Patriotism is a good feeling and I am so grateful to President Trump, as is the entire nation of Israel. 

Personally, I don't think it is drinking the KoolAid that's doing it, or thinking the war is over. Jews, Israel, will always be under attack in one way or another without Divine intervention (make it happy, dear Old Mighty). I think it is the hiding under the desk, playing that forward, the shelter fatigue. 

Last night we were up at three, bleary-eyed in a miklat. FD and I often hum when we're down there, thirty some others don't hear us with all the chatter and the whirring of the fans, static of transistor radios, but we're too tired to sing right now. 

Putting on that tee-shirt, however, I can't help but hum this song: 

 Proud to be an American.

God bless America, God bless Donald Trump. I'm ready for a peaceful 4th of July..  

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