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Festivities

Last time I wrote, Memorial Day’s gravity was soon to give way to Independence Day’s festivities. On Independence Day (Yom HaAtzmaut), a great many Jerusalemites head to the parks of the city, set up their grills, and fill the air with the scent of cooking meat. Elie and I, party poopers and allergic as we are, wanted nothing more than to avoid the smoke. We drove around the city. We even drove through ultra-Orthodox Meah Shearim where the people do not believe Israel should exist as a state until the Messiah comes and where they do not grill on Yom HaAtzmaut.

(Needless to say, it was an odd way for us to celebrate; or, not to celebrate. I would do it differently next time.)

Finally, having somewhat avoided the smoke-filled air, we returned home, ate dinner, and started to watch a movie. At about 10:30, the doorbell rang. We looked at each other. We weren’t expecting anyone. We paused the film and answered the door. There before us was a young fellow, maybe twenty or so, very excited, speaking Hebrew very quickly, gesticulating madly with one hand clasping the handle of a large gray bucket. We were a bit slow to respond so he just looked to the right and to the left and sprinted to our kitchen sink.

Someone had, obviously, thrown out live coals (they were only mostly dead). Now the large plastic garbage bins outside our building were on fire. This fellow was visiting nearby when he saw the smoke. Our apartment is on the ground floor, and so he rang the bell for the use of our sink.

The fellow carried out his bucket; Elie ran out with another. One of the bins had melted to the ground; the other was on its way. Elie grabbed the hose from our yard. This was more efficient than buckets and Elie was able to put out most of the fire. Finally, someone from our building arrived with the key to the fire hose in the building. With this extra dousing, the final embers were extinguished.

The smoke lingered outside our building for an extra day. Go figure.

Families grilling and celebrating on Yom HaAtzmaut in the park near our house.

More of the same...

Meah Shearim.

Posted by Ilene Weismehl  at 4:37 PM | Permalink | Comments 0