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OCTOBER 29, 22, 2020 The Jewish Jewish Home Home OCTOBER 2015 || The
Dr. Deb
Israel in Weird Times By Deb Hirschhorn, Ph.D.
I
woke up on Yom Kippur with vertigo. I had vertigo nine years ago. I remember because my Kew Gardens Hill bar mitzvah bochur was a toddler when my daughter came to pay a bikur cholim call on me then. The vertigo was very bad. I could not stand up straight or walk without guidance. I could not hold down my food. But this time, it was relatively mild. My daughter-in-law, a nurse, explained that elevation can cause it, so that was a good enough explanation for me as to why I got it now. But maybe it’s better than getting COVID. In any case, I got through Yom Kippur very well, considering still being in bidud [quarantine]. In a way, that was a good part, too, because I got to really daven. You know? I had nothing else to do but daven! I had been afraid of Yom Kippur; I was quite afraid of the fast because those that take care of my body and soul seemed to give me the message
that I was pretty sick, but I really wasn’t. I was fine. So much for that. But meanwhile, I missed tashlich. And I basically forgot about making it up until a lovely day on chol hamoed when my son texted me from across the street that they were going to tashlich at that moment. Unfortunately, when I got that message, I was feeling wobbly from the vertigo that had not left me. I decided to eat first, then daven, and then go to the nahal (brook) which was dried up but had a trickle of water for tashlich. He texted me back not to do it because it was very hot. But who listens? I’ve never been one to be kept back by such things. After all, here I am! Against all my children’s warnings. So I texted him not to worry, and I kept on davening. In the middle of my davening, I heard the phone go off with another notification but when I later checked, it had been deleted. I imagine my son was going to insist I wait because it was really, really hot, but then desist-
ed from arguing with his stubborn mother. Eventually, I set out. He’d given directions: Go to the traffic circle and make a left, going into the development. Keep going, and you’ll see it. Sounded good enough. The walk was beautiful. It was about lunchtime, and many families could be heard talking from their sukkahs. Interestingly, I’d say half of them were English speakers. I found the traffic circle and turned in. Came to the construction. Speaking of which, there’s been a lot of growth since I was here two years ago. Now there’s something beyond aleph, bet, gimel. There’s mem-shalosh, too. And this gorgeous, long, very long, park. I should find my dried-up nahal around here. I kept walking. I wasn’t sure if I had the right place so I called my son. He asked me to take a picture of it to send him. Meanwhile, I felt the part of my legs peeking out of my long-ish skirt starting to burn. I had
only been sitting on the bench about 5 minutes. Luckily, I’d brought water. Then I proceeded to look in my machzor for tashlich. Uh-oh. I couldn’t find it. And that was because I’d borrowed his for Rosh Hashana and then returned it, and the only one I brought with me was the one for Sukkos. Ooops. Well, I think it’s good to get mixed up and make mistakes. It proves we are all only human. So back to my apartment I trekked with an “experience” but no tashlich. But man, was it hot! The next day, I went very early in the morning to avoid the blazing rays of sun, this time taking a route I could see from my children’s window and got there chick-chok, as they say. What I found was not at all a brook. Rather, as I stepped onto the grass, my feet started sinking and my ears heard a squishing. My first thought was, “Oh, no, I’m going to ruin my shoes!” Luckily, I didn’t, and I walked a few more paces in the squishy grass, moistened by the
