Category
December 11, 1997
Dining Out…
As a rule, you don\’t go to museums to eat. Unless you\’re like me — someone who, when push comes to shove, prefers great food to great art. I make no apologies: The last time I visited the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, I ate a tasteless, watery and expensive fruit salad in the cafe there. That I remember. What exhibit I was there to see I\’ve long forgotten. It had something to do with famous dead artists.
Education Israel as a Core Requirement?
My daughter flew home for Thanksgiving with two college friends in tow. At the dinner table, the conversation revolved around computers and the antics of the Stanford Band. At some point in the course of that whirlwind four-day visit, Hilary informed me that, though she\’s been diligently studying Hebrew since she started college, a Junior Year Abroad at Hebrew University is no longer part of her plans. It\’s not that she\’s changed her mind about someday returning to Israel, where she spent an amazing summer two years ago. But she\’s convinced that, given the stringent requirements of the high-tech major she seems to have settled on, even a semester in Jerusalem would derail her progress toward her degree.
The Melting Pot
My Thanksgiving column a few weeks ago was about pumpkin pie, the sine qua non of non-Jewish desserts. In passing, Imentioned mincemeat, which I had never seen nor tasted but felt certain was the Maginot line separating \”us\” from \”them.\” Spam, lacedwith lard and pieces of raw tongue, is what I imagined it to be.\nTurns out, I had stumbled upon a widely sharedethnic blind spot.
Mideast: A Waldorf Education in Israel
It is 8:15 a.m. in the first-grade classroom in Jerusalem\’s Adam School. Ice cream-colored walls surround a large room decorated with silk cloths, woven rugs, stones, seashells, driftwood, sheaves of wheat, plants and hand-sewn dolls and animals. The blackboard is covered with a large, multicolored chalk-drawn tree with a bird\’s nest in its branches. A small, cozy room off the main classroom, painted in lavender and white, contains rugs, mattresses covered with Indian spreads, a doll cradle and a basket of small hand-stitched beanbags. The children sit quietly at their tables while their teacher, Eyal Bloch, moves from pupil to pupil, slowly shaking hands and greeting each one with a smile, pausing at times to exchange some brief words.
The Mossad Spy Who Turned Bad
Graham Greene and John Le Carré have been there before: A shadowy source with access to the highest reaches of an enemy regime. A vain, furtive secret service handler with a chip on his shoulder, who insists that the informant will speak to no one but him. A steady flow of alarming exclusive reports, plausible but inherently uncheckable. An intelligence community more concerned with protecting its turf than investigating all the way when suspicions were first aroused.
Torah Portion
Pity Esau. One moment of weakness, one moment ofimpulse, and his birthright is gone. He goes out to fulfill hisfather\’s dying wish for a savory meal of game, and while he\’s outhunting, his mother and brother conspire and rob him of his blessing.Returning to his father with the feast, expecting at last to gain hisdue position as head of the clan, he is met with his father\’s emptyexcuses. And so Esau cries: \”Have you but one blessing, Father? Blessme too, Father!\” And Esau wept aloud (Genesis 27:38). Tears ofbetrayal, of pain, of rage, of broken dreams.
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