The Story of Abe

I have, once again felt the need to explain what I have written and give it an introduction.  This is for the piece published last week titled “Juneteenth, Black Lives Matter, and Myself” and gives more of an insight into my emotional state.  This was originally written as the opening of an evening of learning and discussion with Kibbutz Mishol.

A wave of protests swept across America immediately following the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis on May 25th.  Video of his death, filmed by onlookers, showed police officers pinning him to the ground until he lost consciousness.  One officer is seen looking very casual as he presses his knee into George’s neck.  Pleas for mercy from George were ignored by the officers.  Rallies against police use of force began the next day and spread to over 400 cities across all 50 states and have spread to over 60 countries around the world.  

History, Memory and Identity in the Summer of 2020

Juneteenth

In September of 1862, in the middle of the American Civil War, President Lincoln issued an executive order known as The Emancipation Proclamation. The proclamation freed all enslaved people in the rebelling southern states once they were outside the control of the Confederate government by the advance of Union soldiers.  It went into effect on the first of January 1863 roughly half way between the beginning and end of the war.

This is an essay I wrote to help me deal with everything swimming through my head this week.  The last two parts were cross posted on the Ultimate Peace Blog

Part I

I began playing Ultimate, like so many of us, at summer camp surrounded by other supportive non-athletes.  In high school in the mid-90’s a group of us played a very loose version of the game in the park on weekends.

I spent my freshman year of college at Wisconsin, never once hearing the word “Hodag,” and never finding my place there.  During the subsequent year, while living back with my parents and working on mind numbing office jobs, I got my first Ultrastar, and unbeknownst to me, my first connection to my future Ultimate family.  One of my closest friends growing up was a student at Carleton College, and he returned home one break with a 1997 CUT disc with the familiar CUT logo in Discraft’s “Red Triangle Prism” color in the background and a silhouette of a layout in the foreground.  I still have that disc today, although it has long been retired from use. » Read the rest of this entry «

Yesterday, a Saturday, I spent the day in a park in Tel Aviv.  It was a gorgeous warm sunny day that would have fit in perfectly in May, but didn’t at the tail end of November.  At some point during the afternoon, I heard an emergency vehicle followed closely by another and another.  When I lived in New York City that was a daily occurrence, but in Israel it usually means only one thing.  The exception that proves the rule was the Versailles wedding hall disaster, which I remember very clearly.  We were living in Jerusalem at the time, and the sirens continued for what seemed like hours.  In the park, I noted to a friend that something wasn’t right.  He said he wasn’t worried because they were firetrucks, and you don’t have to worry until it’s ambulances.  It passed, and nothing of note happened, but it reminded me of how living in this country can affect a person.

This piece was written in the summer of 2006, during the Second Lebanon War.

I’m sitting on the rooftop balcony of my apartment in Migdal HaEmek in the north of Israel. There are scattered clouds in the night sky, with some stars twinkling through the clouds and light pollution. Off to the left, I can just see the hazy outline of Haifa perched on the side of the Carmel Mountain. To the right, neighbors are throwing a party, giving a mizrachi soundtrack to the evening.

It’s the sounds that are going to define this evening. On one side is the steady backdrop of the party, the other is the eerie quiet of Haifa. From about twenty miles even a loud bustling city seems frozen and silent. Overhead there is the occasional jet or helicopter. » Read the rest of this entry «

I wrote this that afternoon. I spent most of my walk letting these thoughts grow in my head into this narrative. When I got home, I wrote it all out in one go with very little editing. I wanted to get across the progression I went through during the day. After some minor editing, it was published by New Voices in their March 2002 issue.

Sunday, January 27, 2002

It was a gorgeous Jerusalem day; the sun was shining and there were people out in the streets. The temperature was at that in-between point where one could not decide whether to put on a hat or take off a sweatshirt. I left the apartment around 11:00 a.m. to go run some errands. I needed to talk to a friend at the bank downtown, get a new alarm clock, and buy some double-sided tape to hang a tapestry on the wall.

As I passed Tzarfat Square walking along King George Street, there was a loud crack that reverberated through the air. My first instinct was to try and write it off as construction noise, but inside I knew that was a lie. » Read the rest of this entry «