israel festival

I was very moved and touched by Rob Eshman’s editorial last week (“I Miss Us,” May 13). I was born and raised in Los Angeles and, other than my years in Israel or New York, I spent every single Yom HaAtzmaut at a community Israel festival. Whether it was the 18K Walk for Life we had throughout the ’70s, culminating in a festival in Rancho Park, or Pan Pacific Park, or, more recently, Woodley Park, the festival is something that is a built-in part of my community identity as a Jew. I, too, loved to complain about the food, and I was always most anxious to go around to each booth and strike up a debate on an issue. I remember going to the JDL booth, and then to the Peace Now booth, and would love playing the “other side,” because the whole day felt like a living page of talmudic debates.