Today, like many days, it’s been a day of conversations. Someone on the train, people in the store, a new client who moved to Israel a few years ago, a young man who married a new immigrant 6 months ago, and a lone soldier.
Lone soldiers are people who leave the countries of their birth to serve in the Israeli army, even though their families remain behind. In distant lands, their parents and siblings worry and cope, while these young people come here and, for the most part, receive a huge outpouring of love and gratitude from Israelis.
I have “adopted” two lone soldiers, brothers who have become brothers to my children, adored and an integral part of our lives in many ways and, by extension, their family as well. A few weeks ago, a mother posted to a group, asking if anyone knew where her son could get inexpensive English books. Immediately, someone recommended our bi-annual Book Swap and I thought what a great idea it would be to offer lone soldiers free books from the hundreds (and sometimes thousands) of books we have left over each time.
Today, one lone soldier came to my office and filled a backpack, excited by the chance to read and share. We talked about a lot of things – his army service, where my sons have served, war, fears, experiences. We spoke of the rain and if he had thermal shirts to keep him warm.
A while later, I was in a store and people there were speaking of the arson attacks of the last few weeks, the super tanker we rented to put out the fires, the lost forest, the damaged homes. We spoke of the rain that is finally coming and a winter slow in appearing.
As I crossed the street to go back to my office, about 10 female border guards were standing on the side speaking. A woman called out to them, “Enjoy life, the rain is coming.” Israel has been waiting for rain for so long.
After more than a year in the army, my son has a 6-week-break during which he returns to his yeshiva, and then back to the army for another year in his combat unit. Someone asks me, “if there is a war, can they call him back in?” Why would I want to think about that? It’s enough that he is finally on his way home and should arrive around midnight…a few more hours.
And more talk. Syria is back on our radar. It seems the north is heating up with mortar attacks one day, Syrian forces firing into Israel the next. It seems one border or another is always heating up, always on alert.
And yesterday, 86 new soldiers refused to follow orders to enter the tank division and so today, Israelis are talking about whether the soldiers were wrong for refusing, or the army was wrong in expecting them to go. And a young soldier in the tank division published a picture and a note that he is very proud to serve in the tank division and wants everyone to know that the work they do is important and should be respected. 
Sometimes we speak of missile attacks from Gaza, mortar attacks from Syria. Sometimes we focus on some amazing invention or something as common as the latest flu vaccine and whether it is causing more flu than it is preventing.
What stays constant is the weather and the celebration of the simple fact that it rained. All day long people were writing about how it was raining. It is something that most people outside Israel can’t seem to understand – the miracle of the rain, the blessing. We are world leaders in desalination, drip irrigation and water-saving techniques and yet each year, we are completely absorbed by how much rain is falling, how many centimeters are added to the Sea of Galilee.
I stop in a store to buy a new backpack. The zipper on my old one broke and despite weeks of trying to work around it, I surrender. I don’t want the rain to damage my computer and so it is time to buy a new backpack. The salesman points to several bags and we settle on one. He shows me the colors and I settle on the turquoise one. He tells me about his new wife, who came from South America. He speaks of her adjusting to life here and says she loves it.
I meet a friend on the way home. We speak of her elderly mother, a Holocaust survivor who moved here from the States and of all the benefits she is receiving from Israel. And we too speak of the rain, the cold weather coming in and more.
When I meet a mother of a soldier, we speak about the units in which our sons serve and if they will be home this weekend. And as always, the conversations revolve around the days of the week. Thursday means the end of our week; time to focus on the weekend. On what foods we will cook for the Sabbath, plans that we have, how many guests.
That’s it. Conversations in Israel, life here. Rain. Soldiers. Tension on the borders. Recent fires. Israeli conversations. The best conversations are the ones that are mundane and boring. When nothing is happening, when there are no tensions. They make lousy articles to share, but they make the best news of all. Rain and storms – there is no conversation in Israel more loved than those that focus on the rain falling and the storm approaching our shores.
