Proud to be an American in Israel

 

The Western Wall, Jerusalem

As we age we find life full of ironies. FD and I often note the parallels between sheltering from Iranian missiles, and sheltering from bombs from the USSR. albeit these were drills. We live the precautionary tale of the fifties, hardly warmed over. 

In the US in the fifties elementary schools held them, these drills. Little kids scrunched under desks when the alarm sounded, hardly knowing  why. The two of us, 500 miles away from one another participated in these, thinking that worst case scenario, hiding under a desk isn't going to protect anyone.. 

That was the Cold War. We're in a hot one. Maybe it is over.

You wonder what to wear to go down to a bomb shelter. I open my tee-shirt drawer and spot it, the blue tee with white stars, the one that screams Fourth of July.  Perfect. Because today, for the first time in quite awhile, I’m proud to be an American. 

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 on the first day, where they hail from. 

People from all over the world nod admiringly when we tell them, the United States

Side bar: The Hebrew words for the United States translate to States of the Covenant. I've always liked that. 

When we identify ourselves as Americans it is without grandiosity or pride. We are new here, like everyone else in the class, proud to be Israeli, lucky to have duo-citizenship. We are property owners in the USA, we pay taxes. It will always be a home of the free and the brave, if not the only home of freedom and bravery. 

Yesterday President Trump gave all Israeli-Americans a huge injection of Proud to be an American. 

We needed the shot. Our fears for the future of America have troubled us of late, an undercurrent stretching over the pond from the country of origin, from what patients tell me. 

Patriotism, however, is back, big time, as is gratitude for American intervention, primarily the president, our hero, President Donald Trump. He is on the right side of history, G-d bless him. 

Personally, this optimism, this positive vibe, is not me drinking the KoolAid, caught up in the wave of relief that comes with the reprieve of  nuclear war. What raises the serotonin is thinking the war will be over soon, even if another will begin in time. Jews, Israel, will always be under attack in one way or another, a fate that will not change without Divine intervention (make it happen Old Mighty!). 

Last night we were up at three, bleary-eyed in a miklat, a bomb shelter, despite President Trump's intervention. We hum or sing when we're down there, sometimes, albeit quietly. Our neighbors, some thirty others, can't hear with all the chatter and the whirring of the fans, the static of a transistor radio. Last night we were too tired to sing. 

This morning however, donning that tee-shirt with the silver stars on a blue background, 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.

With love,  

therapydoc