David Andrew Jaffe's Blog, page 3

Stop Being Defensive, Start to Learn

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I’m naturally defensive.

I don’t think it’s an abnormal trait. Or a desirable one. But it’s definitely there, and swimming through my head at all times.

But for the first time in my life, I’m fighting back. Defensive no more! Why? Because learning happens where openness begins and defensiveness ends.

Let me illustrate how this might work.

A Fateful Press Release

Imagine your new job asked you to draft a press release. The parameters were fairly clear. One page. Business tone. The goal was to give a positive vibe and to earn maximum revenue.

You enthusiastically set out to show your new employers why they made the right choice. You craft a beautiful document, review it a dozen times, and email it to your supervisor.

You’re excited.

After all, you just worked for a high-level PR firm for the past four years. Writing press releases is like breathing to you. You could whip one of those suckers out without needing to think. Easy as pie.

And you sit back in your office chair, waiting for the inevitable email with the simple words, “Perfect. Thanks!” And then, of course, the parade. The adulations of adoring co-workers who have been informed in an inter-office email that the company has a new star on its hand. That the world has just gotten better for all of them.

Not That Email

An email comes, most certainly. But it’s not what you were expecting at all.

“Can we discuss your press release later today?” it says.

Some of the scariest words you find just about anywhere. So vague, it leads your mind in so many horrifying directions. Does this mean the press release was awful? Does this mean I’m going to need to redo the entire thing? Am I about to get canned??

And the meeting happens, and bad immediately goes to worse. Before your supervisor opens his mouth, you see a copy of your press release covered from top to bottom in red ink. And all of your fears are confirmed.

You’re no good at what you do. You lack any and all of the necessary job skills. They made a terrible mistake hiring you and your days with the company are limited.

Things get all confusing when they start talking. They say seemingly polite and even complimentary things like “This was really nice work” and “Honestly, for a first try, this was pretty impressive.”

Is this a trick? If I did such a good job, why the mysterious email? Why did you spill a gallon of red ink on my beautiful work of art?

And Then He Becomes Defensive

But this is when things get really complex.

This is when years of buildup from so many aspects of your life start to pile on.

If you were to get punched, you wouldn’t contemplate the reason behind the punch. You would aim to dodge the fist. Or you would put up a hand to stop things from coming.

So why not here?

After all, your work is under fire. Every word you put down is under attack. You can’t sit back and let the onslaught consume you and do nothing about it!

So you start to defend every letter, much to the confusion of your supervisor.

You start explaining your word and design choices. You say there was information you were lacking you couldn’t possibly have known yet. You even start blaming the person with whom you’re speaking for not having told you something prior, thus explaining the information you missed or conveyed incorrectly.

The Better Choice

But during all of these times you were speaking, there was something even better you could have been doing.

Shut the hell up.

Listen. Take in every word. Learn from the person sitting across from you.

And assume the best in their intentions.

They’re not here to attack you. They’re here to educate you. To get you up to speed. To make it so your next presentation will be incredible and you will be a step closer to self-sufficiency.

To be sure, not everyone in every work place is looking out for you. Some co-workers and supervisors see you as competition. Or even a threat.

Everyone wants to be a hot shot. Everyone wants to be the person in the organization others looks up to. And no one wants to be the slacker who is only ever given the garbage assignments.

And there exist those in this world who want to see you fail, because it makes them feel better about themselves. Like a classic high school bully who brings you down as the only viable method they can feel superior to anyone.

But you can even learn from that person. So long as you can stifle that part of you that wants to shout out in your own defense all the time.

Why Are You So Defensive?

What do you gain from this defensiveness?

Perhaps a momentary feeling of satisfaction. Of minute power.

But what you lose is so much more.

You see, for every moment you’re defending your words, you are not doing something infinitely more valuable: Listening.

When you listen, you learn. And when you learn, you grow. And really what’s happening when they’re stomping upon all your hard work and nitpicking all the words you painstakingly chose is they are helping you to make better, more refined choices the next time you write up something. They’re assisting you to perfect your craft. And if your thoughtful enough to take every single word they express as bringing you a step closer to that hot-shot level you’re aiming for, you will get where you’re going so much quicker.

Shut Up and Listen

Like in a relationship where some of the best advice anyone could ever receive is to shut up and listen rather than try and make a great change, so too here: Listening is everything!

Remember the golden rule: Learning happens where openness begins and defensiveness ends.

Open your heart to hearing what those around you have to say. Be humble. Don’t assume you know everything or have all the answers. And stop trying to prove you’re right! Fact is, sometimes you’re not. But you’ll never know unless you stop and let someone show you another approach.

When you allow that to happen, you can sincerely make great changes in your life.

And that’s when the real magic happens.

Learning happens where openness begins and defensiveness ends.
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The Silence of Infertility

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Some posts are hard to write. Some are damn near impossible.

Writing about the pain of infertility is most certainly the latter.

My wife and I have been married for nearly six wonderful years. Things aren’t always easy. Besides the more widespread issues during these years, such as pandemics and wars, we’ve both had our fair share of personal demons to work our way through–illness, unemployment, child estrangement, and much more.

But one issue has remained a quiet background monster in our lives, causing us daily harm. I’ve been silent about it. It’s deeply personal, and I wouldn’t dare write about this without Devorah’s full approval and encouragement. And even with that, I find my fingers hitting the keyboard with more hesitancy than I’m used to.

Unexplained Infertility

For these six years we’ve dealt with unexplained infertility, a medical diagnosis that is basically the equivalent of “we have absolutely no idea why this is happening”.

Infertility is more painful than most could imagine.

Forget the fact that we live in a society that glorifies getting married and quickly starting a family as the ultimate life pattern, with no exceptions. Forget that every time we turn around there is yet another reminder of what others have been able to do that for unknown reasons we simply cannot.

Even if you take those two elements out of the equation, you have an endlessly painful reality that most simply cannot understand.

Dashed Hopes

Imagine a world where your greatest dream is right at your fingertips only to be dashed in an instant. Imagine that happening to you every month! You now have a small taste of what it means to inexplicably not be able to produce a child.

Hopes and dreams constantly crushed, and even if you want to, you can’t give up. The hope and optimism will always find their way back to rear their ugly heads and hurt you once again. There will be that small voice in the back of your mind that says, “You’re finally here. You’ve made it. You can now rejoice.” You will search for monthly signs that something is different. Am I craving something or do I have an aversion? Is my body acting differently than it normally does?

But yet again, the results are the same. Dreams vanishing. Hopes dashed and tears flowing.

That is infertility.

And sometimes the sorrow of infertility reaches new heights.

The Worst Words

About a year ago, during Channukah, the Jaffes had a miracle. Devorah pulled me aside and showed me my gift that year. A beautiful little testing strip that said our long and windy road had finally come to its end. She showed me and we embraced. We cried. All the pain and suffering was worth it to arrive at that one key moment we had waited for. That moment where our lives would finally reach some level of normality. Some level of contentment. At last, we could breathe.

Like is customary, we were fairly quiet about things. Obviously our relevant medical people knew, and we each confided in one friend, just so we could finally share our joy with others. And so we’d have others to lean on and talk to as we brave the early days of this process we were about to embark upon.

We were visiting the hospital for the first ultrasound. Our first opportunity to see the little smudge on the screen who would later be our adorable bundle of joy. Our source of pride we would pour all our love upon for the next several decades. We couldn’t possibly have been more excited.

And then the nurse nonchalantly said the most maddening words I’ve heard in my life. “There is no heartbeat. I am so sorry.”

The Fall From the Cliff

Everything went blank at that point.

The next several days were a blur. We were pushed around through medical facilities, visiting doctors to find out if there’s any possibility of an error, figuring out the next steps when you have a dead fetus just sitting inside your body.

None of it was pleasant. None of it felt warm and understanding.

Just blankness.

The world played a cruel joke on two people who really needed good news. Who really needed to have that giant turnaround in life.

Life is hard. Really hard. But when we thought that in nine months our family would be expanding, and Devorah and I would have that beautiful opportunity to raise a child together, to see an end finally come to nearly five years of hardship, we were on a cloud. We had been trying to climb the mountaintop for so long, and we were finally standing on the precipice, looking upon the world with joy. Knowing our moment had arrived at last.

And the drop from that cliff was like nothing I’d ever felt before. How can the universe be this thoughtless and unkind? What could we have possibly done to deserve such treatment?

But instead of climbing on a podium and screaming about what we endured, like just about everyone else experiencing infertility, we suffered in silence. We cried behind closed doors. I held friends’ babies and caught an ever-so-slight glance from my amazing wife that said, “Why couldn’t you be holding our baby? Why does everyone else get to have a child but us?”

Hope in Silence

It has been a long and hard year for everyone. And I could hardly claim it’s worse for us than for so many others. But it’s so easy to fade into the background. To not be heard when there are so many voices so much louder than your own.

We’re closing out 2024 with a lot to be grateful for. But so much of it feels empty without this one thing. This one enormous seemingly insurmountable wall that stands in our way.

I’m a practical person. I know there’s a whole lot of biology at play here. I know the right pieces of the puzzle need to line up at the right time, so we could have the miracle we so desperately need.

But it has yet to be our fortune.

And when life is this dark and complicated, it feels like the only options left are hope or despair. Let’s pray that the hope remains strong. And beg of the world to feel the magic of becoming parents together.

Your good wishes are welcome.

We need all the help we can get.

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A Dog Story for the Ages

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I’m not crying, you’re crying.

Last week we had quite a dog story.

Every day I see stories all over Facebook about missing dogs. It’s heartbreaking. And overwhelming.

And it’s very hard for me to ignore the facts on the table: There are more dogs than families who want to take them in. And the inevitable ending to that already sad story is they will end up in a shelter. And if the shelter is too crowded, and no new home is found, the dog will eventually be put sleep.

So I see these posts, or I see a random pooch just wandering around our neighborhood, and I want to save them all. I want to walk into my living room and trip over a half dozen dogs, and then get endlessly licked by a barrage of pups who couldn’t be more happy to see me.

But it’s just not realistic. We already have four humans and a dog living in a small Jerusalem apartment that feels smaller all the time. And as much as I want to help every single one, I’m instead stuck just feeling guilty that so many will go uncared for.

A New Member of Our Home

But every once in a while, some magic happens.

I saw that a dog was, in all appearance, abandoned in a dog park in Ramot (essentially the part of Jerusalem farthest from us). They were looking for someone who could take him into their home while we search for the owner or until we could find him a new home.

He looked so sweet and calm. And I was just itching to do something good. I wrote the one who posted and said if he could be brought to us, we’d be happy to take him in the meantime.

And within the next few hours, our house was a little more crowded. With a lot more fur everywhere.

And a whole lot more love to go around.

Complete Silence

This dog was quite impressive. We tried playing detective, trying to piece together his story.

He was well-trained. He wouldn’t go on our couch, despite the fact that Frank was there all the time. He responded to several basic commands, and seemed to understand things better in Hebrew.

He was extremely well-kempt, with clean fur and probably the cleanest teeth I’d ever seen on a dog. But some things were a little unusual. He wasn’t chipped or neutered, which are very standard practices most people will take care of the moment they adopt a dog.

Then there was how he was found. He had a collar, but no leash. If there were no collar, it would be safe to assume he was a stray. If there were a leash, it would indicate he ran away from his owner. But a collar and no leash seemed to point to abandonment.

Now this wasn’t our first rodeo with a missing dog. The last time we found a dog wandering around our neighborhood, with one Facebook post and within a measly thirty minutes, we brought the dog home to its owner. However, when we received our new friend it had already been two days since he was found. We and others posted on every Facebook or WhatsApp group we could think of, and after several days we hadn’t heard so much as a peep. Nothing.

I know if our Frankie ran away, we would be searching night and day, moving heaven and earth to find him.

But all we got here was silence.

A Possible New Home

More signs that someone had just left this beautiful creature to fend for himself, completely turning their back on a helpless animal.

With all these signs that our mission was going to quickly switch from finding the owner to finding a new home, we put out feelers. Someone who had lost their dog not long ago came by to visit and was more than happy to have a new pooch in their life, if no owner was found.

I consulted with everyone involved, and we decided we’d wait just a couple more days. It’s a scary thing to think of giving away a dog that someone somewhere misses and is crying about. But once the appropriate effort was made, there was nothing left to do but make sure the fella would be in a permanent loving environment.

The day arrived and all arrangements were made.

And then Devorah received a shocking message.

A Story of Abandonment

A fella named Zohar saw the pictures and recognized the dog immediately. But this wasn’t just some ordinary fella. He found this dog as a puppy a year and a half ago, along with his siblings, one of whom he was still raising to this day. He trained our dog. He raised him for the first six months of his life. And he found him his owner.

Zohar reached out to the owner to figure out what was going on.

Apparently the owner had an illness in the family and was contemplating giving up the dog. One day he was walking his dog, gave him some time off leash, and uncharacteristically, he ran. The guy just decided it wasn’t worth looking for his dog, so he abandoned him and went home to tell his family the dog ran away.

And man, Zohar was pissed.

But everything was clear now. We even knew the dog’s name: Gulliver. They called him Goolie, which he responded to gleefully.

A Dog Goes Home

Everything was fully confirmed that the owners did not want him back. Frankly, they didn’t deserve this special animal. So we made arrangements for the new owner to come by and pick up the newest addition to their household on Friday. But as an extra, our new friend Zohar wanted to come by and see his old friend.

We all convened at our house. Goolie went absolutely nuts when Zohar arrived.

And we all sat there together, hugging this fantastic animal. The one who raised him, the ones who were about to give him a home, and us, the ones who got him from point A to point B. Three separate groups of people who may have never crossed paths, sitting in our living room, brought together with one goal: Providing the best possible life for a very deserving dog.

I will never forget that day.

And I’m getting choked up just thinking about it.

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Miracle on South Division Street at the Jerusalem Theater

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Here we go again!

It’s been a long time since I had the privilege to write all about a play starring my beloved wife. I’m super excited to do it once again.

Miracle on South Division Street: Round One

I was very fortunate to get to see the first run many months ago of the epic performance of Tom Dudzick’s witty and intelligent Miracle on South Division Street. And I’m looking forward to round two!

Miracle on South Division Street tells the story of the Nowaks, a small devout Christian family, living in middle-of-nowhere America. The Nowak household is powerfully attached to a peculiar family tale that serves as the core of their belief system and identity. The play, quips actress Sarit Rachel Brown, is about “light topics” like “religion and family dynamics.”

Everything they’ve ever thought they’ve known gets tossed on its side after one daughter makes several earth-shattering discoveries she reveals to the family over the course of the show. With each new discovery we watch as the family’s minds are opened, world views are challenged, and the laughs come again and again.

Meet the Nowak Family

Yael Goldstein Valier, the play’s director, says “The Nowaks hold up a mirror to our ways of coping with religious crisis, and each family member’s reactions reflect a different solution or defense mechanism.” Actress Devorah Jaffe says, “I would say it’s about what happens to us when faced with a truth that makes us question our whole belief system… except it’s done in a simple and hilarious fashion.”

The play is a lively conversation between Clara and her three outgoing and opinionated children: Ruth, Jimmy, and Bev. It really gives you a lot to ponder, as Rabbi John Krug (set and lighting design) says, the play is about “what happens to people and how they adjust and cope when [their] foundation is challenged or threatened”, which is “highly relevant to the events unfolding in Israel today.”

Relevant, but not at all a given that we address the matters. Andrea Katz (Clara) says that “the Nowaks find their way together” whereas she herself is “pessimistic about the Jewish world doing so.” It is essential that we as a people contemplate these vital matters. That we never ignore them. And we as a people discuss the issues, even is we don’t come to conclusions. That’s the magic of something like this show. It gives us a gateway to think about difficult things.

The children add such color and beauty to the discussion. Devorah says of her character Ruth that “she doesn’t know what will be or if things will really work out, but she tries them anyway.” And Mordechai Buxner says of his character Jimmy that he “puts himself out there in a way I would never have the guts for… I love his intellectual curiosity, his sensitivity, and his sense of humor.”

Three Reasons to Come

It’s hard to write about the show without divulging critical spoilers. So I’ll keep it vague… while also trying to show you what you’ll get when you come see Miracle on South Division Street. Here are three reasons you should come:

First, it’s a professional-level talent. Jerusalem is a city, in my opinion, starved for entertainment. Most of us can’t afford the time or price tag to go to the many amazing events happening every week in Tel Aviv and other major cities. Yet right here in our backyard there’s a hidden gem. Fantastic actors who’ve learned to work together under the expert direction of Yael Goldstein Valier. She says of her crew, “This cast is talented, and they often have an unexpected take on a line that renders it hilarious.”

For a relatively small amount of money you can have all the great things you might expect if you were to head out to a professional stage in New York City or London right here in Jerusalem. It’s completely worth it.

Second, it’s legitimately funny. And all of us could use a good laugh right now. Life in Israel is complex and painful. And never slows down, not for a minute. How nice it is to just shut down for a couple of hours to laugh at other people’s fictional problems! And it’s not just funny. It’s laugh-out-loud funny.

Finally, the play is meaningful, and gets you thinking. Whether it’s the interesting theme of the play, or the intriguing discussion led by the speaker to follow, you are bound to walk away from Miracle on South Division Street with what to think about. The combination of entertaining and funny is always a good one. But it’s common and expected. But entertaining, funny, and thought-provoking is an elusive mashup most of us rarely get to experience. Yet it’s happening right around the corner at the Jerusalem Theater, yours for the taking. In the words of the director, “I love how they make me laugh so much that I don’t notice how much I’m thinking and absorbing.”

Laughing through our Hard Times

After chatting with the whole cast, it seems one of the biggest motivations driving them in these extraordinarily complex times is giving people a pleasant and comical experience, a break from the complexities of life in 2024. Mordechai says, “As an Israeli and as an American, I think this current moment in history is a very good time to be thinking about what it means to face reality head on.” Sarit agrees and adds, “We will never stop asking these questions. It’s nice to laugh while we do.“

Devorah continues, “⁠I fell in love with comedy a few years back. The experience of making a room laugh, there’s not much like it. I hope it provides a breath of fresh air. A night out to just laugh and have a good time… watch someone else’s woes for a night and be able to laugh at the craziness of life for a couple hours.” And Andrea brings the idea home stating, “The play is funny, warm, cynical, upsetting, and inspirational. These days we just need to enjoy… [to] just laugh and rejoice in the typically atypical Nowak family.”

Theater and Theology

This is the third performance I’ve watched from the theater group Theater and Theology. I’ve been impressed each and every time (granted I’m slightly biased… since I proposed to my wife after one of them…). The shows are complex and entertaining, the actors are uber-talented and professional, and the format is designed to not just entertain, but to inform and cause everyone in attendance to walk away with something important to ponder.

And they deliver. Each and every time.

It’s a privilege to watch the company grow as well. For the first two shows I saw, they performed in a cramped, cavelike room in the Kahn Theater. It was smaller than their talent deserved. Now they’re moving up in the world, performing at the exalted and luxurious Jerusalem Theater, and they’re only missing one thing: Your butts in their seats!

I could not possibly recommend the show more. If you haven’t already purchased your tickets, what are you waiting for?

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Benny: A Dog for Someone to Love

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Benny’s story.

I’ve recently developed a bit of a new addiction. A healthy addiction arguably, but an addiction nonetheless.

I want to foster all the dogs! I want pooches that have gone through difficult times to know what it feels like to be loved and taken care of. I want them to love life and feel secure in how great they are. And then I want to find them all appropriate homes where they can stay forever.

It’s a healthy addiction because it’s needed. Because it’s kind. Because it feels good. Because it makes the world a better place.

But it’s a lot.

It’s time consuming and sometimes very challenging. And yet… whenever one challenge ends, I find myself a little too open to the next challenge.

The Stray Dog Problem

I always knew there was an issue in our country with stray and abandoned dogs, and shelters bursting at the seams that need to put down their “extra” pooches. But until very recently, I didn’t really know how bad things were.

Not long ago, we accepted a beautiful dog into our home, gave him love and attention. Watched as his personality emerged after awful owners just left him to die. And when he was together with his new family, I sighed a breath of relief… and found myself wanting to do it again.

The Benny Story: The Beginning

That’s how Ben came into our life.

I’m not going to sugarcoat the beginning of this story. The first 24 hours were way above our pay grade. Obviously we can’t possibly know Benny’s full story. All we know is a dog came into our home with many small scars on his body and a bit dirty. He was terrified of people, and jumped at any sudden movements. And he had no interest in anything. He just plopped himself on our rug and barely moved. When we needed to get him anywhere, we had to pick him up, otherwise we’d just be stuck. He’s about 50 pounds!

Things reached their hardest point for me when I tried to walk him about two hours after he arrived. He was very resistant and managed to pull his head out of his collar. And then he just ran! He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t understand the dangers of the street. And I chased after him, winded and terrified, trying to figure out what I was going to do.

The Benny Story: The Fear

I swear I’d never felt anything like this before. The combined emotions of fearing for Benny’s life and feeling like I’ve never failed at a task as epically as this.

Thankfully, he ran past a yeshiva and several boys ran out to help. They were incredible! (Big shout out to YTVA!) With their help, I was able to corner him and get his collar back on. Devorah came out and together we carried him home.

I was shaken. And we both wondered whether or not we were actually up for the task.

I don’t know if my ego could have handled returning him. Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe confidence. Or determination. But we stuck with it, and I’m so glad we did!

The Benny Story: A New Dog

At the time of writing, we’ve had Benny for almost two weeks. He doesn’t even mildly resemble the dog we received. After a couple of days, we watched him break out of his shell.

The power of love, care, attention, and patience cracked through his defensive shell, and a beautiful, sweet, and fun dog is emerging more and more every single day.

At first I couldn’t get Benny to walk with me. Our dog, Frank, jumps up when I pick up the leash. He could walk for hours and never get bored. Benny was challenging to get out the door. And when we finally did, it was constant stopping. He’s a strong dog, and once he would stop, there was almost nothing that could be done, short of carrying him around. Which was miserable and exhausting.

Now: I grab the leash and Benny hops up too. The walks are a pleasure. He wants to sniff other dogs. He enjoys when strangers come over to pet him. When I take him to the dog park, he’ll run around gleefully. And when it’s time to go, he’ll walk right over to me and let me attach his leash.

He’s happy and sweet and lovable and responsive to training. It’s almost as if every dog that’s been abused by life has a wonderful, caring personality stored under a layer of defensiveness. It might manifest itself in aggressiveness or lethargy, but it just needs to be unearthed. One needs to just give them the love they deserve, and they will emerge from their cocoon. And the crazy part is, even if it’s a challenge and comes with setbacks, in the big picture it’s not even a lengthy process.

He Emerged

I’ll never forget two days into Operation Benny, he stood up and started wandering around our apartment. It was like watching a child walk for the first time. Up until that point he plopped himself on a rug and didn’t move unless absolutely forced. And here he was, wandering around the apartment. Smelling everything. Experiencing everything. Taking it all in.

It was a fantastic moment for him. And it was a glorious moment for us as well.

This past year has been very trying on my soul. I sit at home while other people risk their lives so I can watch Netflix in the comfort of my living room. I’m helpless. And it hurts. I’ve attempted to make a difference, and many times the attempts fell flat. A friend needs a kidney. I checked and I was ineligible because of my diabetes. I tried to give blood again after a long break due to iron issues. It was an epic fail. The nurse stopped everything prematurely when my face went completely pale.

So what am I? What do I have to offer?

Benny’s Forever Home

I can walk around and say this fun, happy, lovely creature will live a long, amazing life. And that may not have happened if it weren’t for us.

So we’ve done a whole lot for Benny.

But Benny’s done a whole lot for us as well!

At the time of writing, I don’t know what his future will hold. We are still searching for his forever home. Somewhere someone has all the love in their heart necessary to care for this beautiful dog. They are fortunate. I have no doubt he will give all that love right back!

I can’t wait to see what happens next.

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Trump: We Can Get Along for Four More Years

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It’s the morning after, and I’m trying to collect lots of thoughts.

I spent three years living in a red state before moving to Israel on election day 2016. I never expected Trump to get elected because even in the Bible Belt it felt like it was taboo to outwardly support him. If you did, you were mocked. You were derided. Hell, in 2016 you were called “deplorable” by Hillary Clinton and in 2024 you were called “garbage” by Joe Biden.

And then he won.

Four Years of Shock

I and most of the world were shocked. And the next four years were jam packed with lots of ridiculous moments. Crazy tweets. Insane speeches. A presence none of us could have imagined occupying the White House.

But hey, it wasn’t all bad. And that is especially the case for Israel, where Trump is basically beloved. Where he is looked at as the best friend Israel ever head. And there’s a boatload of evidence to support that idea. I remember thinking that if he continued on as president, peace in this region might actually be possible in my lifetime. He left office a tiny hop away from Israel normalizing relations with Saudi Arabia, something up to that point unfathomable.

But then he left office… and less than three years later Israel was plunged into this gruesome war, and my hopes of peace in my lifetime were thoroughly shattered.

No, neither this war nor Russia’s war are a direct result of Biden’s presidency. But we in Israel would be naive to not notice the stark contrast between four years of no war versus what we have now.

Trump was so obviously better for Israel, that it’s hard for many here to imagine a different choice. Now you might say it’s childish or inappropriate to cast a vote based on one issue. But I think it’s utter hypocrisy. I’ve spent the last three months watching those living in the States highlight reproductive rights or the economy or someone simply not being Trump as the sole reason for their choice. Well damnit, shockingly enough the people in Israel choose Israel.

Two Trump-Related Posts

Now putting that all to the side for the moment, this election cycle was filled with demonizing, fear mongering, and hyperbole. On both sides, even if one or both feign virtue or claim to represent joy or unity or democracy.

I want to address two types of posts I saw during and after election day.

One type I saw throughout the night: “I am so scared right now.”

I want to put your mind at ease. You might loathe Trump. But he’s the devil you know. We already had a four-year Trump presidency and guess what: We’re all fine. Everything’s OK. America is still standing. Democracy has been preserved.

Some things over the next four years will upset you. That’s par for the course when your candidate loses. But please stop being scared. Your life will be significantly more similar now than different. You’ll just get to make more angry posts on Facebook and you’ll get four more years of late night shows mocking the bad orange-haired man.

But everything will be fine.

If you love the States and you admire its democracy, then trust in the system. Know that things can’t get too mangled. And if they go off course, it’s just a few more years before you get another opportunity to put things back together.

But please remain calm. I guarantee you your nice life will still be nice four years from now. And America will still be standing.

No Friend of Mine

But it’s the other type of post, when the results were finally in, that upset me far more. They basically looked like this:

“You know who you are. You voted for Trump. You stand for racism, sexism, and fascism. You are no friend of mine. Identify yourself. I have no room for you in my life.”

I was shocked at how much posts like this upset me.

I’ve been in this world for nearly 50 years, an American citizen the whole way through. In that entire time presidents have mostly been irrelevant to my life. I think the most frustrated I ever was at a president was when I received a hefty fine because I didn’t have health care. Why? Because I chose to pay for healthy food and a gym membership rather than exorbitant fees for a service I wasn’t going to use. I was infuriated that the government had the nerve to steal money from me because of a choice I made.

The president who made that decision was Barack Obama. I hated the policy, but I was indifferent to the person. It didn’t reflect on how I felt about democrats or black people or any of my friends who supported Obama. I am proud to say that in those same nearly fifty years I have never pushed away a friend or family member over political disagreement.

Pawns in Someone Else’s Game

But we’re all in the wrong here.

We’re all falling for politicians and media who seek to divide us for multiple reasons that provide us no benefit whatsoever. We’re pawns. Neither Donald Trump nor Kamala Harris really care about me or you. They have agendas, and their path to accomplishing those agendas require your vote and your manipulated photo opportunity.

I plead with all my friends: Discuss with me. Argue with me. Hell, scream your head off at me when we passionately disagree on a topic. But never stop being my companion. And even if you do, I won’t stop being yours. There’s a bigger picture out there. Everything falls apart the moment we let disagreements stand in the way of our deep personal connections with one another. And the moment we lose sight of the fact that we agree so much more than we disagree. And even if we didn’t, there is no reason we can’t still care for each other.

The Same Team

I know the words pouring from my fingers right now might not be as clear as they could be. I’m still collecting my thoughts. I’m still watching America divided in ways that would concern any reasonable person. My words are just flowing wherever they’re flowing, and my thoughts will hopefully become clearer with each passing day.

In the meantime, to my friends who support Trump: Congratulations. I hope he serves the country faithfully and leaves it better than he found it. To my friends who loathe Trump with all their being: You’ll get through this. In just four years you’ll have an opportunity to support someone else, someone different. But please don’t abandon friends over this. None of those on top are worth it.

Presidents change frequently. Friendship is forever.

And always remember, we might play the game differently, but at the end of the day, we’re all on the same team.

The post Trump: We Can Get Along for Four More Years is featured at Jaffe World.

Shockingly Proud of Israel

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I’m a well-document reluctant lover of Israel.

What does that mean?

I support Israel’s right to exist and defend itself 100%. I advocate for Israel. And with all of its imperfections, I believe Israel to be worlds greater than all of its enemies.

And I want Israel to succeed. I want to be proud of my country. I want it to be a better place for all those living here. I’m just frustrated by the many things I believe Israel could be doing better. And even more frustrated by the many people who seem to have given up on making those changes a reality.

Pride from the Days

Every once in a while I feel small pieces of pride.

But those moments are rare.

I love history. And I especially love Israel history.

But most of my moments of pride come from things that happened before I was born.

I think about the insane miracle of establishing a state in 1948, against all odds.

I think about the spy Eli Cohen rising to prominence in the Syrian government, gathering vital intelligence that would help to ensure Israel’s victory in upcoming battles.

I think about when four countries attacked Israel in 1967, and within just six days Israel had them begging for a ceasefire.

I think about when terrorists hijacked a plane filled with Israelis and brought the plane to Entebbe, Uganda, and the utterly impressive rescue mission that followed.

And I think about how Israeli agents kidnapped Adolf Eichmann, one of the most important Nazis during the Holocaust, right out of his home in Argentina to bring him back to face justice in Israel.

Proud of Days Gone By

All of these stories have two things in common.

First, they are amazing. Straight out of the movies. In fact, some even have movies made about them.

Second, they all happened a long time ago.

And that’s significant.

It makes Israel feel like a story and not a real thing. I walk down the street and see falafel shops and cigarettes and bad driving and kids playing and random pieces of bread sitting on benches.

I can marvel at how modernized Israel has become in less than a century, and quite a challenging century at that. But it doesn’t feel special. It doesn’t feel miraculous. Everything that is tremendous about the country seems to have predated me, leaving me just pining over a time that has long past.

Exploding Beepers

And then the news came on.

I heard all about exploding beepers throughout Lebanon.

The next day it was exploding walkie-talkies.

And just a few days later, we took out Nasrallah, the leader of Hezbollah. But it wasn’t that simple. This piece of garbage has eluded death or capture for decades. We pinpointed his location, deep underground, and blew the ever-living hell out of his lair. I don’t know the fine details and I’m still trying to understand exactly what happened. But I understand we knew where he was located because of a mission involving a spy shaking his hand and transferring some sort of invisible tracker to his skin.

And a few hours later, that was all she wrote.

In a matter of days, Israel had eliminated all of Hezbollah’s senior leadership, dismantled their communication network, and left the terrorists fearful to touch anything, lest it literally blow up in their faces.

I’ve been waiting for this since I moved to Israel the first time in 1997. I’ve been waiting to live through a moment that would later be turned into an incredible feature film. And I couldn’t be more ecstatic.

Never Easy for Israel

The things I’m reading in my very diverse online world are all over the place. Many, of course, agree with me. They celebrate everything from the ingenuity and effectiveness of the attacks, to how relatively precise they were, causing far less damage then, say, a missile demolishing a building.

But others have accused Israel of international terrorism. They’ve taken the world’s faith away from the things they use in everyday life. People will become afraid to pick up their cellphone or turn on their television, lest they explode. They have made the mundane feel unsafe.

I laugh at these thoughts.

I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but come on!

If Israel allows Hezbollah to pummel the north with rockets, tens of thousands of people need to flee their homes in fear and we encourage a terrorist entity to continue to bombard us.

If we strike back with conventional weapons, we’re accused of everything from disproportionate force to genocide.

So what do we do? We innovate solutions that cause damage specifically to those we mean to harm, and minimize the damage and suffering to others. Israel should be lauded as a nation of superheroes. But instead people will still find room for criticism.

Always Room for Antisemitism

And what do you call it when people criticize you no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to please everyone and do the right thing?

I suppose you can call is antisemitism. It’s frustrating to me. I’ve often commented that after nearly half a century living in this world, and overtly letting the world know my ethnicity, I’ve experienced almost no antisemitism firsthand. The people in my life have been relatively kind and unbiased, at least in regards to peripheral differences. Yet racism and bigotry are such convenient explanations for so many things that are otherwise inexplicable.

Why are there massive protests against Israel for defensive wars, and silence about Russia? Silence about anything revolting happening in China or Syria? Or all over Africa?

Why do people hear buzzwords like “genocide” or “ethnic cleansing” regarding Israel and they jump on bandwagons and into loud protests proclaiming knowledge they clearly don’t have, when terrible things happen all over the world that go completely under the radar?

There is no logic.

It’s madness.

And, sadly, it can all be neatly explained with one simple concept.

Very Proud of Israel

And regardless of any of the garbage I may encounter online, I’m very proud of my country right now. I’m proud of its technological innovation. I’m proud of its masterful planning and ingenuity. I’m proud of its attempts to keep our people safe without endangering too many civilians. And I’m proud that we’ve gone above and beyond to bring us back to an era that feels like ancient history.

My head has been held just a little bit higher since that day.

Let’s keep up the good work.

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Some Thoughts as Yom Kippur Wanes

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I had some thoughts I couldn’t help but contemplate all throughout my Yom Kippur.

Am I on the right track? And if not, how do I get back there?

My Crazy Journey

Over twenty years ago, I started zooming down a pathway. And that journey has been replete with blessings. But with it’s fair share of challenges as well.

A few crazy steps, and accidental mishaps, and next thing I knew I was studying Torah in Israel, miles away from where I may have expected to be just a few years earlier. Both literally and metaphorically.

That path led me to a life of strict observance of Jewish laws. It led me to a marriage that was destined for failure from day one, but resulted in four beautiful children. And it put me on a trajectory toward a career that was fulfilling for a period, but wasn’t the best fit for me. On occasion I miss teaching, but I then remind myself of the many reasons I fled the career, and it’s hard to look back at all.

But even the paths abandoned are connected to the paths later chosen.

Choosing a Torah lifestyle led to wanting to be in yeshiva, which led to a rabbincal ordination program to stay in yeshiva. That program led to education as a career “choice”. To fine tune my skills within that career, I would choose technology as a way to build interest for my students. And when my time in education finally came to a close, technology was sitting there waiting for me as the next path on the journey.

Even the paths abandoned are connected to the paths later chosen.
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My Invasive Thoughts

But was it the correct path?

Was technology the direction my soul was pulling me towards? Or was it just another fork in the road, a path chosen not because it’s where my true passion lies, but because decisions were made earlier in life, journeys were taken, and inertia took over from there.

On the big day of Yom Kippur, there’s not a lot of time for distraction from thought. There’s no TV or internet. No eating or drinking. Just endless amounts of time for contemplation… when I’m not spacing out or outright falling asleep.

And that contemplation can get really complex at times.

I’ve been afraid to be alone with my thoughts for some time now. It’s been fairly close to a decade since my kids moved away to another country. And even though the moment is most certainly in the rear-view mirror, and I’m now happily reunited with the not-so-little-anymore kiddos, I’ll never forget the impact it had on my mind.

My concentration was ruined. My thoughts were my worst enemy. And I looked for every opportunity for distraction.

Why? Because if I weren’t distracted, I would get flooded with negative thoughts. Oppressive thoughts.

And the main theme was: How in the world could you have made this many mistakes? What series of idiotic decisions did I need to make to lead to this moment? To this series of highly unenviable events?

I was afraid of my thoughts then. I’m still afraid of my thoughts now.

Who knows, perhaps I always will be.

Where Am I?

But I sat there on Yom Kippur, thirsty, once again wondering how I got where I was. Wondering not just if I am where I want to be, but whether or not each day was just another moment of me getting shoved in the directions of the inertia of my past.

Am I really the master of my own destiny? Or am I just a product of past decisions, and I’ve lost any and all control over my life and my future destinations?

And most of all wondering: Can the patterns be broken? Is control something that can forcefully be brought back into ones life, or once the ball is sent rolling, will it just continue storming down the ramp forever?

I don’t have any answers. None at all. Just questions and pondering.

Two Paths to Destiny

I’d like to believe we can uproot our paths, take back our destinies. I assume there’s two ways of getting there: The subtle and the drastic.

The subtle would involve small changes. Move to a different city, start learning toward a new profession, intentionally meet some new people. Lay foundations that will hopefully start a process that will lead to ultimate change. It may take a while. Perhaps even several years. But by the time the process gets anywhere interesting, you could have a new and different life staring back at you.

The drastic would require a daring and terrifying immediate and profound life change. Moving to another country, dropping your job and leaving yourself open to something completely new, completely switching friend groups or life priorities.

The latter method is far scarier. Change done incrementally is barely noticed. Change done quickly makes most of the world extraordinarily uncomfortable, and they’re way too terrified to even give it a try.

But it’s faster.

And when things need to be shaken up, sometimes the utterly drastic is what we need. There’s no time for waiting for a change that may never come. No, we need to shake that bottle of soda and enjoy the sweet explosion that will likely follow.

Life Has Shackles

But life also comes with shackles. Many if not most are self-created, but they’re there nonetheless.

If someone wants to abandon their community and job and go off backpacking through the jungles of South America, it can probably be a very wild and memorable adventure.

If that also means leaving a wife and children behind, to call the decision irresponsible is the understatement of the century.

The decision to have a family became shackles preventing the individual in question from roaming the earth freely in the way he desires. These shackles aren’t good or bad. They just are. Life’s often too complicated to simply drop everything and do what feels right just because it’s the direction your whims are pulling you.

But not all shackles are created equally.

Abandoning a wife and children is gross and immoral. Leaving a job is just challenging… and likely the company will move on from you before you carry your belongings out the front door.

How does one determine when it’s time to shake the tree and see what falls out? And what are the shackles worth casting to the ground?

And how does one obtain the courage to do any of this!?

The post Some Thoughts as Yom Kippur Wanes is featured at Jaffe World.

Money, Wealth… and Other Things I Don’t Understand

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Money confuses me. So much!

I’ve always had a bit of a problem understanding economics. It just makes no sense to me. And now in my adulthood, I’m trying to play catchup to understand things, and maybe figure out where I fit into the mix… before my energy runs out, and I no longer have what it takes to get my piece of the pie.

In trying to understand things, I started to read books that might get me past my little hump. I started with Rich Dad, Poor Dad, a fantastically interesting work by Robert Kawasaki. I loved it. It was intriguing and showed me perspectives that were quite new to me. But I didn’t put the book down motivated to run out and make a difference. Nor did I feel like I had the knowledge or skills necessary to carry out his plans.

So I kept going.

I read books and articles and talked to people and experimented and… I’m still so damn confused!

Wealth and Health

After everything I’ve consumed, including some things I’m in the middle of, I’ve concluded that wealth acquisition is similar to health. Everyone feels like they possess the sole secret to rising to the top. And every other idea is a mistake, that will not help you achieve your goals.

As I write this doing a mini-course that claims the secret to financial independence is putting as much money as possible into assorted retirement accounts, like IRAs. Simultaneously I’m reading a book that claims retirement accounts are the conventional wisdom for how to retire comfortably, but that wisdom is absolutely 100% incorrect.

So what does one do in these circumstances?

I, like just about everybody, am thoroughly interested in passing the finish line. I want to ride off into the sunset at age 60 with a beautiful home, not a single financial concern in the world, and enough money that not only will I leave this world very comfortably, but the next generation or two will never feel the sting of financial panic.

What’s the Road to Money?

But do I follow Robert Kawasaki’s advice and create a large business? By his definition a large business is one in which there is a system in place, and if you were to step away for any length of time, the system would keep going. It’s not reliant on you, or any one individual for that matter. A doctor’s office would be a small business. It could make a ton of cash, but when the doctor’s on vacation, no income comes in. When the doctor retires, the business closes. The big business, on the other hand, has an easily transferrable system in place.

Kawasaki considers real estate the best method for doing this. Think about it. If you own a building, you collect rent on every unit. Forever. You can do whatever you like within the business, and hire others to do anything that doesn’t interest you.

You own. Someone else manages or does maintenance. And into your 90s, you sip on margaritas on the beach while your building continues to yank in wealth.

The course I’m currently taking, from Money with Katie, takes what I would consider a more traditional approach. Get rid of debts, starting with items with the largest interest rates (as opposed to Dave Ramsey, who says to conquer the smallest debts first, for the psychological boost of tackling an entire debt). Earn more, spend less, put whatever’s left over in savings accounts, like Roth IRAs. Retire comfortably in your 40s.

More Money, More Money

Another method I’ve seen as the wisdom to get ahead is to purchase multiple existing businesses that are profitable and capable of scaling into much bigger and more lucrative businesses. This is talked about extensively in a newsletter I read called Contrarian Thinking.

The 4-Hour Work Week has a whole philosophy and system based around doing as little work as possible and living how you want to live now, not when you retire. Too many details to get into what he recommends, but a worthy read. It’s mostly about getting paid a lot by people for whatever, and outsourcing the actual work to others who charge significantly less than you are making.

There’s of course this other mysterious way of investing advocated by my current book, Missed Fortune 101. I’m nowhere near answers at this point, just padding for what will hopefully be a decent payoff at some point. Happy to report again when I finally have all the answers!

And there are endless other things I’ve read along the way that hold the elusive secret to building wealth. Some version of diversifying income streams. Mastering the art of passive income. Strategizing the best ways to invest in the stock market. And, of course, shifting ones attitude so that your soul starts pulling happiness, health, and wealth into your life.

Conclusion: I’m Still Confused About Money

So once again, like so many other things in my life, I’m left confused. I’ve spent the better part of my adult life trying to figure out health. Some say soy is healthy, others say it’s the devil. Some tell you to drink lots of water, others warn of the dangers of over-hydrating, others still say it’s all dependent on what kind of water you are drinking. Should I eat organic or am I tossing money in the toilet? Do supplements work or do they just result in expensive urine? Does running actually help someone lose weight, or does it just make you hungrier and put too much pressure on your knees and other joints?

It’s enough to make you crazy!

But I never thought I would delve into this topic and find myself just as confused. And here we are!

Should I start a business from scratch? Or purchase someone else’s business? Should I just live a frugal life and keep plopping my savings into retirement accounts? Or should I live for today and learn how to outsource everything I do? Should I research and purchase individual stocks? Should I have seventeen different income streams? Should I just do all of the above and hope one of the methods hits pay dirt?

One thing’s for sure: Whatever I’ve done up to this point certainly hasn’t gotten me there…

The post Money, Wealth… and Other Things I Don’t Understand is featured at Jaffe World.

Car Nightmare and the Carelessness of Israel

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A hundred things happened in a minute. I didn’t know how to react.

And then it was over, and my day would inevitably be different.

Driving in Jerusalem

I was driving my daughter to school in the morning. I don’t like driving in Jerusalem. There’s never a moment to breath. You need to be focused on everything at all times, and there’s constant threats to your safety and to that of others. People drive and walk around without a care in the world, so one small slip up and disaster will follow.

Plus the classic anti-friar mentality forces everyone to always be looking out for themselves. They’ll cut you off just to get ahead. Pull in front of you when you have the right of way. Inch their vehicle right out into traffic to try to take advantage of the perceived weakness and slowness of advancing cars.

So you have to be on constantly.

My Car Nightmare

As we drove down an unnecessarily thin two-way street, I saw a car backing out into traffic right in front of me. I gave a little honk and the car stopped. All was well in the world… for a quick moment.

But then as I was sitting waiting for cars to move forward, I felt a violent jolt. My car was hit from the side, my back started welling up with pain, unclear if it was from the hit or from a concentrated moment of stress.

And over the course of the next 30-60 seconds so many things happened, and it was all a dramatic, intense blur to me.

I shouted in agitation, and immediately checked to make sure my daughter was OK. She was, perhaps, a bit confused, but otherwise rather calm. Far calmer than I was.

What Should Happen vs What Happened

Now I know what one is supposed to do at those moments. You stop your vehicle, take pictures of any damage, exchange information with the other driver, file a police report if necessary, and after about 20-30 minutes, you move on with your day. You determine how much damage your car has. You figure out if you’re injured in any way. And if something needs to be taken care of, you address all the issues. And, of course, even if the other driver is a perfectly decent and reasonable person, in your heart you’re quite aware that what’s coming next could be time-consuming and unpleasant.

But my thoughts were racing.

There was no obvious place to stop my car. The average Israeli seems perfectly fine with just stopping where they are, blocking traffic, and making dozens if not hundreds of people miserable for the next twenty minutes. This is not something I’m yet comfortable with, even if it’s the right thing to do.

It was my daughter’s second or third day of school, at a new school. She had expressed earlier how important it was for her not to be late. And even though she didn’t say a word at the time, I was concerned I was going to stall everything and cause her day to be much harder.

To make things more overwhelming, a cab driver was passing me, yelling at me. Ultimately they were trying to be helpful. They wanted me to stop and deal with everything happening. But their intensity just put my confusion on hyperdrive.

And so I did what I did.

I drove on.

Judging Myself

I’m not at all proud of my final in-the-moment decision. But it’s the one I made. And it’s hard to really judge in hindsight a decision made with fifty variables with less than thirty seconds to decide.

Nevertheless, I’m judging myself. And I think I handled it all wrong.

A few blocks later, I stopped my car and got out to check. A couple of pieces were out of place and easily popped back in, but it’s didn’t look like there was any proper damage. It’s been some time now and it continues to drive great, so there was no real damage. My back is still bugging me a little, but that really could be from anything. Maybe it was exacerbated by getting hit, but it’s not necessarily the case. And it would be entirely improvable. And it’s basically irrelevant anyway, since Israel has socialized medicine.

So overall, the moment is over. My daughter’s fine, I’m fine, and the car’s fine.

But I’m not really fine.

I’m annoyed at myself. I’m annoyed that I didn’t stop the car right in the spot and take pictures. Yes, cars would honk and people would yell. Yes, there would be a ton of traffic created by my stopping. And it would be stressful. But that’s what you do here. It’s the Israel way. If you don’t, you’re just allowing yourself to be crushed under the feet of everyone around you.

And I’ve already been that guy. I’ve let Israel chew me up and spit me out enough times. And frankly I’m sick of it.

A Careless Israel Tale

Israel has real problems. Existential problems. But it’s loaded with plenty of other relatively small ones as well, and they don’t go away no matter how many rockets are launched at us or citizens are kidnapped.

And in sixteen years of cumulative time living in the Holy Land–20% of time the country has even existed–I still can’t get a handle on what to do for what is, sadly, a daily occurrence.

Why did this happen?

It’s not because I wasn’t vigilant. I was. It’s not even because the roads are too thin and should probably be one-way streets. That might also be true.

This is 100% a cultural issue.

People in Israel are not careful. They drive throwing caution to the wind. They treat other vehicles on the road like irrelevant twigs you might drive over.

Everyone jokes about new cars in Israel just being a week or two away from their first scratch. It’s funny… but no, it’s really not. Whoever backed into me probably doesn’t owe me money. And they can keep their empty apology. I’m not interested.

I want them to give a damn!

I want people to think that their careless, aggressive, and mindless behavior not only physically hurts people and causes lost time and money. I want them to know how much they can ruin a person’s day. And I want them to care enough to not do the same stupid thing tomorrow!

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