The Problem of Summer Holidays and Working Parents

by: Alisa Fox Coleman, Director of Organizational Advocacy

It’s nearly the end of June. It’s the time that panicked parents ask themselves, “what am I going to do with my kid for the next two months?”

My youngest son is 10, he is the first of my four kids to go through the long and hot, two-month summer holidays while both of his parents are working full-time. We feel sorry for ourselves as parents, having to juggle child-care, and find answers to the problem of the summer. Most of us parents get 14-18 days of holiday each year. Summer holiday is 45 days – these are just  logistics but does anyone think about the summer from our kids point of view?

Going to school is tough, and I am not just talking about the academics. Peer pressure and teacher expectations are an ongoing challenge during the course of the year.

Holidays should not be about any of that.

Holidays are for fun and relaxation – all those adjectives we would use for taking a break from the conscious and subconscious struggles of the school environment. At least, that’s what I think holidays should be.

Holidays are also  a time for informal education. They’re for a different kind of educational experience – of equal importance to every child as the school year is. As a child and teen I remember waiting until my next camp experience. I made so many good friends at camp. I learnt about myself, and how to live and work in a group setting, first as a camper and then as a counsellor. If I could go back to camp tomorrow , I would.

Camp Shutaf Is an oasis of calm amongst the storm of yearly peer interactions . Quality counsellors, and a relaxed family-style environment with fun, low-tech camp activities.

Every child is treated as an individual with their own preferences, abilities, and moods.

When a child walks in to camp in the morning, whatever mood they may be in they will be greeted by counsellors who care,  staff who want them to be happy and have fun.

Sounds obvious, but as we all know as parents, camp is often like a factory – rushing kids on and off buses, and from activity to activity. Often, kids don’t feel good about themselves if there is an activity in which they are forced to take part. Or, it is run by counsellors who are young, and without the proper tools to deal holistically with the kids in their care.

On my vacation, I personally do not want to be forced to do anything that I don’t want to do!

So what is different about Camp Shutaf? Shutaf Inclusion Programs in Jerusalem offers inclusion day camps three times  a year during longer school holidays, for children with and without disabilities. Camp Shutaf’s biggest program is August camp. This summer, 135 participants, ages 6-23, will enjoy 3 fabulous weeks of day camp in Jerusalem.

Shutaf’s innovative, reverse-inclusion model combines a majority group of participants with varied developmental challenges (75%) with a smaller group of participants (25%) without disabilities.

How does this work you may ask?

Firstly, there is a long waiting list for the campers without disabilities.Shutaf’s inclusion ethos, professional program planning and staff training ensures an excellent program in an uniquely, accepting environment .The camp provides quality, personal attention , an inclusive and accepting atmosphere all of which you can only describe when you have seen it in action.

The counsellors listen to the needs of all the kids in their charge. Every kid has good days and bad days or days when they arrive at camp not in the mood.The difference is that their counsellors will listen and be patient and do their best to accommodate and be there for them.

When you do not label kids special things happen. All the kids are looked at as individuals with their own feelings and needs.

The counsellors are not told before who has the disability, they work on dealing with each kid in their charge individually.

Many professionals in the field of disability  have gone to visit Shutaf over the years, and they all admit that it is difficult to tell which are the kids with disabilities and which are without .

When you focus on kids having fun with an emphasis on peer- communication , everyone wins.

Honestly, I wish I could spend my vacation, doing fun activities in a chilled fun environment where people care about me.

Wouldn’t you?

I’m sure all of our kids would.

Alisa

2 Glasses in 1 Week. Who’s Responsibility Is It?

Hey,  you keeping score at home?

Akiva just lost another pair of glasses on Thursday.

School says he got on the bus with them.

Shalva says he got off the bus without them.

And I say, “Are you kidding me?”

They got lost on the bus. The bus? It’s like Switzerland. Nobody’s responsible. Bus companies are a law unto themselves, with little requirement to offer anything beyond the most basic of services. After all, the company chosen to ferry a city’s children to and from school – an important job one would think – only win the contract because they were the lowest bidders.

There’s a special place in hell for bus companies.

Drivers? They’re generally a likable lot. Matrons? Some are better than others., and bottom line, they are deeply underpaid. You know what? You get what you pay for.

Akiva Blog

In the ten years of Akiva losing his glasses in Jerusalem, somewhere during the course of his day – and often on the bus – they’ve never been found. What do the bus drivers do with them? Do they throw them out because they can’t be bothered checking in at their various stops to see if they belong to anyone. Only once, and they weren’t Akiva’s, did a bus driver find a pair of glasses and return them to us.

Again, I remind you that Akiva is significantly nearsighted. It’s not like you can pick up his glasses and use them to read the phone book. Truly, they’re only useful to him.

By the way, the recent pair of Akiva’s glasses have his name engraved on the earpieces. Yes, in English, but it is his name. A nice personalized touch that has proven to be useless.

When I asked the lovely and responsible National Service counselor for his group at Shalva why Akiva’s glasses aren’t looked for as he gets off the bus, (as if we haven’t discussed keeping an eye on his glasses before), she said, “well we’re not always there to take him off the bus,” but she’ll make sure they’ll pay more attention next time.

What should I do with that?

Nothing as it turns out. I’m too furious. And we don’t have another spare on hand.

Why? Because we’re lousy parents I guess.

It’s June. The craziest time of the year. I’ve had 3 weddings in the past 10 days, alongside rehearsals for summer Shakespeare, while by day, preparing for Shutaf’s critical summer fundraising campaign for camp due to begin in less than 2 weeks.

I guess, stupidly, we thought we had a grace period before the next pair would go. But I’ve often observed, losing glasses comes in 2’s and 3’s. Well we’ll avoid the 3rd loss as we have nothing to give him this time.

Ira, who was landing in NY as the news played out on Thursday, will make a quick order but it can take up to 3 weeks to get them delivered. Should I pop over to the local glasses store and order a $350 pair? I could but with 2 glasses gone missing in 1 week, I’m shockingly reluctant.

That means Akiva goes fuzzy. Out of focus. Unable to truly see well, until the $50 replacement pairs arrive.

And it’s nobody’s responsibility, as it turns out, but ours.

Akiva and the Missing Glasses: A never-ending story of Disability and Vulnerability.

Let’s talk about vulnerability. And don’t go putting your sad and supportive face on, thinking, “Oh, Beth’s about to tell us another Akiva story.”

I am, but that’s not the point.

I’m here in the house, staying cool, doing my happy Friday thing, fruit crisp in the oven, Ira out buying whatever he’s decided we need.

My phone bleeps. Ira’s telling me some story about Akiva’s glasses being thrown off the walkway at school. The teacher called all flustered with some whole ‘meysa,’ or story, which we immediately tune out. What’s the point in listening? Someone grabbed them off of his face. He was clearly not in a supervised space – whatever, can’t supervise everyone at all times – and the glasses landed, wherever they landed, to join Akiva’s other gone-missing-never-to-be-found-glasses that go missing in a given year.

Ira and I, the good Anglos that we are, buy more glasses. Heck, we support Zenni optical, ordering 4-6 glasses yearly.

The school? They do nothing.

Akiva has lousy sight and while he’s kind of cool being out-of-focus in his daily life, we are not. Wearing glasses has been a task that we’ve worked on, assiduously, since he was about 7 years old. It took years for him to accustom himself to them, and indeed agree to wear them. While he doesn’t necessarily ask for them, he gets that they have some use for him in his daily life.

Akiva also, like many of those with Down syndrome, has a small face, little ears, and a minuscule nose bridge, making fitting him in a good looking pair of glasses a challenge. We’ve tried many types of frames, going back and forth between the more expensive stretchy frames with better quality lenses which we buy locally (they fit the best), to cheaper online options that do the job less comfortably.

Beth and Kiv

What’s school supposed to do? I should be grateful, I guess, that Akiva’s not at risk for the stuff that’s standard procedure in Israeli schoolyards countrywide, where tough and even bullying behavior is too often excused as the norm.

Ira and I get that you can’t keep your eyes on every student, and every event that goes down. We really do. But what about Akiva’s vulnerability in this? What about his inability – truly – to protect himself? What happens – and I assure you I worry about it daily – when the boys are all sent off to use the facilities before breakfast? Who’s watching them then?

In an educational system – and this is a worldwide issue I’d say – predominantly staffed by women, at a certain point, boys are left to do their own thing in the bathroom. Builds independence and all that.

Bullshit.

If a person is vulnerable, then we must be charged with protecting them.

If a person is vulnerable because of disability or age or illness or whatever, then we must put a plan in place for assuring them their safety. Always, and at all times of their lives – cradle to grave. That’s what social services is supposed to be about.

That’s what building and securing the person’s well being – regardless of specific need or age – is all about.

And in childhood, when the responsibility is shared by many different agents, from school to after school programs to other children’s homes on playdates, that becomes complicated.

Parents presume – or they wouldn’t send their children off – that the these other environments have claimed responsibility for them.

Should they?

Can they?

“So, what are you thinking about – for Akiva – after next year?” asked the school advisor recently.

“Nothing,” is what I felt like saying, instead responding in a desultory fashion with whatever the moment required.

What would I like to do?

I’d like Akiva to live at home with us, until he’s an old man, and we’re even older.

I’m down with keeping the helicopter blades permanently turning over him, Ira and I (with the help of Akiva’s caregiver, Indu), continuing to be in charge of fussing over him, making sure he’s happy and well-turned out. You know, well-fed, well-slept and well-watered, clean-shaven, glasses cleaned, blackheads removed (my job), fingernails trimmed (Ira’s job).

In short, loved and respected. Honored and yes, protected.

We don’t see anyone truly applying for the job.

The Four Children. Welcoming All Children to the Seder.

By Beth steinberg.
This blog was originally posted on the Times of Israel, on April 2nd, 2015. 

Each year, as we read the parable of the four children, I think about all those other children not mentioned in this historically, simplified description of human behavior.

“One who is wise or thoughtful.
One who is wicked or rebellious.
One who is simple or innocent.
One who does not know how to ask.”
Adapted from A Night to Remember, by Mishael Zion and Noam Zion

The Seder’s Four Children ask us to consider what is wisdom, rebelliousness, simplicity or, even being unable to ask? Emotions and questions that would seem to relate to the average child’s experience of learning and growing, of being and becoming a worthy individual.

The cousins. March, 2015

The cousins. March, 2015

Children. What do we want for them? So much. Make the right choices. Give the right answers. Live up to expectation. Make of yourself something that society values. Excel and shine, learn to be caring human beings, exemplify the wise and thoughtful child of the Four Children. Who would want different?

How do we react when they behave badly? Not well. You’re the evil child.

Get an A? You’re the wise child.

Seem sort of off? The innocent child.

More off? The child who lacks communication, who doesn’t even know how to ask. For so many things.

Becoming, of course, doesn’t happen in an instant. It takes time, along with fostering a range of necessary life experiences for each individual – part of their development and maturation process. Their actions and choices may vacillate, be they wise and unwise. Their big questions may be answered or left unresolved, their personal balance lost or found, their lives opened or kept closed to personal growth. As for their siblings and family members – they’re either carried along with them on their path to adult enlightenment or left behind in the dust of self-discovery. We parents can only leave the door wide open and hope that they will return to ask and discuss those ever so important four questions at the Seder.

While we now have many Haggadic variations on the four children – ones that do consider a different take on the traditional view of childhood and development – the tale of these four children can still be a moment of sadness for those with disabilities (and those who love them) at a Seder, or, of feeling marginalized because these descriptions don’t match their childhood (and parenting) challenges and experiences.

For this year, 5775, I offer up this take on the four children, recognizing that there will always be children who fly under the radar of general acceptance and love.

The one who is wise to people’s feelings, who senses happiness and sadness.
The one who struggles to understand and control their impulses and behavior.
The one who is innocent of unkind thoughts, who greets the world with pleasure and happiness.
The one who wishes to be welcomed and spoken to in public, while lacking traditional forms of communication.

Pesach Sameach.

 

A Conversation with Yoni

Yoni Arya, is Shutaf’s Young Leadership Coordinator. 

What was your first connection to the field of disabilities?
I have ADHD, so growing up I was in a school where they didn’t know anything about what I was doing and they just tried to medicate me. Most people just pushed me to the side because I was being annoying and they didn’t know how to deal with me.

DSC_5489Who was the first person you remember encountering with special needs?
I remember there was a neighbor I had with severe psychological needs. I remember him being different and I was conscious of it. Everyone kind of laughed at it.

As someone who grew up with a younger sister with special needs, were there times that you felt your sister got all the attention?
No. In fact my sister was the easy one. I was the hard one! I never felt like she got all the attention. It’s hard for me not to be the center of attention!

Were there times you had to stand up for your sister?
My sister’s disability isn’t something you see so thankfully, we haven’t really bumped into people that were mean or making fun of her. We’re very protective of her but we haven’t had a need to protect her.

What is your role as a sibling of an individual with special needs?
To provide as much normalcy as possible. As a sibling, I would treat her any way I would treat any other sibling.

What do you see your role being as your sister gets older?
As she gets older, I think I’ll be the one taking most of the responsibility, if it’s not my parents. As she gets older, hopefully she’ll have a community, but I’ll be her support system and she’ll be at my house for Shabbat.

Were other kids in school growing up conscious of the fact that you had a sibling with special needs?
I don’t hide it, but it’s not something that comes up unless someone asks me. I don’t feel like I need to tell people before they come over to my house, “Hey, my sister has special needs.” I don’t need to warn you about how she’s different.

What did you learn from your sister?
I think I learned most that people portray what they want you to see. People are very different with their family than how they are outside. I’m with my sister, Gabby, all the time, and I know she acts very differently at home than when she’s out with other people!

I am not afraid. Finding strength in difference.

Written by Shutaf co-founder, Beth Steinberg, this blog originally appeared in the Times of Israel on December 10th, 2014

Hi, I’m Beth. I’m mother to Akiva, who’s 17 and has disabilities.

I am not afraid.

My son’s challenges are significant but I’m not afraid.

I am unsure about the future. His happy adulthood, my happy years as an older adult. What are his rights, what do I deserve, what will be the responsibilities his older brothers will shoulder? Will he be happy?HappyPic

I worry he might not be happy. But he’s almost always happy. That makes me less afraid.

When I write about Akiva – his needs, his challenges, my challenges – I choose my words carefully but I am not afraid. Except for when I hit ‘publish.’

When I talk about our journey as a family – the tough moments, the tearful moments, the moments that I just wish it were different – I try to be honest. I know honesty is important. I know many people pity us, pity him, don’t truly understand what it means to be his parent, his full-time advocate, his person, his people, his caring community. We’re the people who help him shower and dress, who care for him when he is sick, who sing songs with him. We’re the people who love him. Sometimes, I wish it were different but I am not afraid.

When I post a picture of Akiva, I choose the happy ones, the ones where his cute, uneven teeth, his often crossed-eyes, his sometimes grubby face, are softened by the happy smile on his face. He’s kinda funny-looking but aren’t we all?

I am not afraid to show the face of disability – his disabilities that is – via my son. I am not taking advantage of his well-being. I am letting the world know that disability is happy, disability is every emotion and more. Just like not having a disability is so many things and so many emotions and so many experiences.

I am not afraid of exposing us, of sharing him. While I know he’s unaware of this exposure, I know that showing him to the world, my extended world, will help ease fears and misconceptions about disability. I hope.

Akiva on his way to a party

Akiva on his way to a party

But I am afraid of a world that treasures beauty. Where skinny bodies and 6-pack abs, along with being blonde and gorgeous, is regurgitated on television and in movies. There are few positive images shown of real people who look different, as opposed to actors playing a part.

I’m afraid of a Jewish world that treasures learning. Where how many degrees and how much you earn, gets more respect than your dedication to being a good person, an inclusive person, a person who believes that we were all created in G-d’s many images.

I’m afraid for other parents of children, teens and adults with disabilities. Those who feel unsure that the world will appreciate their loved ones. That the world will look kindly on their stories. Their tales of difference and challenge, of unusual beauty lost and found.

I’m afraid of a world that divides people up according to who can and who can’t. A world that divides those with disabilities according to who’s got this and who’s got that. A world that decides who’s high-functioning – whatever that really means – and who’s not. A world that sentences you and judges you for your difference without knowing what that really means.

So, I work past the fears. I tell his story. I tell our story. I invite you in, to read, listen and comment, so that you can understand and appreciate. So you can smile at the different-looking-behaving-whatever person the next time you see them on the street and be glad that they’re a member of your community. Because their people, those who love them, need you to try to be less afraid.

“And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries.” Paul Simon

 

Sleepless in Jerusalem.

By: Shutaf Co-Founder, Miriam Avraham

vin in poolParents of children, teens and adults with disabilities see the world through a very different prism – a unique prism of worry. We worry about different and more things than the rest of you do. The things that are obvious, attainable and easy for typical children can be huge obstacles for a child or young adult with special needs. Other 18 year olds are moving on to a new stage in life – completing a gap year, going into the army or national service. At our house we’re trying to get Vinnie to serve herself lunch.

This latest surreal situation in Israel is scary, especially for Israelis in the south. I can’t imagine. While Jerusalem has been relatively quiet, Vinnie was outdoors during one siren and the loud noise freaked her out. She’s been uptight since then, has had trouble falling asleep and bad dreams.

I worry if I’ll be able to wake Vinnie from a deep sleep so that she’ll cooperate and run down the 3 flights to the bomb shelter in our building. I worry if she’ll act fast enough and figure out what to do if a siren goes off while she’s out walking the dog. I accompanied her one day but she wants to do it herself. (Something we worked hard on to help her gain confidence and be able to do this on her own)

Vinnie’s not going to her school’s summer program because they don’t have any bomb shelters or safe rooms. She’s bored at home, missing her routine. Luckily my husband and I work at home and we are coordinating our time so that we don’t leave her alone in case a siren goes off.

We’re always treading a fine line between protecting her and helping her learn new skills and gain self confidence so she can enjoy being a young adult and become more independent. Yet, in crazy times like these it’s really hard to keep sight of that line. We’re trying to continue a daily routine yet keeping her safe might mean losing a lot of hard earned achievements.

So who can sleep?

#IsraelUnderFire How are children with disabilities coping?

Dear Shutaf Friends,

For children with disabilities and their families, the current barrage of sounds and images are deeply disturbing, from rioting in the city to the frightening blast of the sire. For panicked parents, herding a child with sensory, developmental and/or physical challenges into a public bomb shelter is a nightmare.

Miriam Avraham, Shutaf co-founder and mother to Vinnie, was grateful the siren blared before he daughter’s bedtime, “Vinnie is very sensitive to sounds and can quickly become emotionaly overwrought. I can’t just get her to run down the stairs to the bomb shelter in the middle of the night.”

During this tense time, we need to live our lives as normally as possible. At Shutaf, the means preparing for 3 wonderful and inclusive weeks at our August camp, while solving new challenges caused by the current situation.

  • A more secure venue for camp.  Today, we signed on a newly-renovated space with a safe room on every floor.
  • Increased camper demand.  We’ve added an additional group, making room for more campers.  We’ve maxed out registration and have a waiting list.
  • Keeping teens in camp.  Instead of riding public buses to local activities, teens will take private, Shutaf-arranged buses and do more in-camp activities.

With your help, we can ensure every child’s safety, security and success at Shutaf.           With your help, we can raise an additional $25,000 in scholarship funding for August.     With your help, we can ease parental stress, offering respite to more families.

With our deepest thanks,

Beth Steinberg and Miriam Avraham, Founders, Shutaf

Rena Magun, Board Chair, Shutaf

P.S. Show your support for Israel.  Help send a child to camp.

Screwing Up and Coping

By: Beth Steinberg

It should be on my epitaph, or maybe it’s the name of a movie like the Wizard of Oz or, It’s a Wonderful Life. I’d like the name to be a bit more down and dirty, kinda like that famous scene of a Russian roulette game in the movie The Deer Hunter, with a wigged out Willem Dafoe and a scary Christopher Walken. No, that’s not right either. Maybe it’s more like Cheech and Chong’s seminal Up in Smoke.

Ira, Akiva, and Beth at the circus.

Ira, Akiva, and Beth at the circus.

Ira and I played a little Russian roulette about a month ago…and lost. We always lose it seems, just when we’ve let our guard down. Not sure anyone ever gets that really. Don’t blame them, can’t really understand it ourselves.

We had two lovely meals out on that particular Shabbat, a true red-letter event, at two friendly homes. We made some tasty vegetarian dishes to accompany Friday night dinner – it was a big meal around a full table with a host of Akiva fans, including his hosts who know him well. Akiva sat, ate, wandered a bit, even petted their two lively dogs and had success in the bathroom. Whew.

Saturday lunch, it was another big meal around a full table (we were in charge of dessert, a decadent chocolate cake), with a group who was completely friendly to all of us, especially Akiva. Akiva sat, ate, played with toys and then…had a toileting incident on their lovely sofa.

We were both horrified. The hostess was a doll.

As she delicately handled the upholstery on her very beautiful sofa, and told me to relax, that “things happen,” I yammered on apologetically, wondering why we had allowed him to sit on the sofa, why we hadn’t taken him to the bathroom more (he had been taken twice), why we hadn’t brought along a special pad for him to sit on (forgot but then again, he’d done well on Friday and he hasn’t had an accident in quite some time), why we had let our guard down, and of course, why had we bothered taking him out for two meals over the course of Shabbat. That’s a challenge for us with Akiva, who’d never been to house #2.

Lost in the shuffle, of course, was Akiva. On the way home from lunch, freshly attired in clean pants, he was quiet, clearly desperate for his Saturday afternoon of music on the iPad, his way of relaxing – we long ago gave up that Sabbath battle.

I felt badly. He knew, on some level, that things hadn’t gone well, that he hadn’t been able to do what he needed to do in the conventional fashion when offered the opportunity.

Why? I can honestly say that if I knew why, I’d know why this particular skill has evaded him, and us by definition, for so many years.

If only we understood at a more base level, why people, especially those with disabilities, gain certain skills and not others. What makes expressive language such a challenge and receptive language not? I’m using our experiences with Akiva of course, I know for others it may be different. Akiva, who is very skilled in languages is very unskilled in chitchat, in expressing his thoughts, in just saying “hi, what’s new?” And that’s deeply troubling to him, social kind of guy that he is.

Imagine if you NEVER knew what to say, not even the most basic, “My name is Akiva, what’s yours?”

We all know people who are deeply shy, those who do struggle, quite painfully to navigate social settings. Or those, who stammer and stutter, who dream of speaking freely whenever they’d like.

For us, Akiva’s family, as well as others in his life, from his teacher to the therapists and Shutaf staffers who know him well, it’s often a mystery to determine what’s on his mind and what he’d like to share with us.

There are those who would say he functions at X or Y age level but we prefer to see him as someone who has the life experience of a young teen and as such needs to be respected accordingly. But it’s complicated when he needs help with everything he does and when certain skills of independent living continue to elude him.

So, we cope. We respect him. We support him, and welove him. Our own Wizard…in a Wonderful Life.

A Vegetarian on Israel Independence Day

Written by Miriam Avraham this post was originally appeared on April 23, 2012.

Morris and Martha Herman, ahead of their time.

Morris and Martha Herman, ahead of their time.

My dad was ahead of his time. He chose to become a vegetarian in the 1930′s, no doubt influenced by Harav Kook’s philosophy of vegetarianism as an ethical way of life. My dad believed that being mindful of what we eat together with daily exercise was the path to a healthy body, mind and spirit. You might say “duh!” today but he was living according to these principals at a time when everyone around him was eating steaks every night, smoking, drinking and living extremely sedentary lives. He maintained a vegetarian diet even during his service in the US army in WWII – telling us stories of how he dreaded KP (kitchen patrol) during basic training – “The chazer, uch!”.

Thanks to my dad, I’ve been a vegetarian all my life. But I wasn’t always grateful. As a kid growing up in suburban New York, the question kids most frequently asked me was “You’ve never had a hamburger?”. The answer was and still is “No.”. We didn’t even eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. My mom’s definition of a sandwich was a two inch pile of lettuce with some cheese. There was nothing to trade in my lunch box. Talk about weird. Being a vegetarian kid in the 60′s and 70′s was weird. I only started meeting other vegetarians as a teen when friends started ‘converting’.

Since there was never a vegetarian option at events, my mom would give us dinner before we went even to the fanciest of weddings, a habit I’ve only recently been able to break. Camp was a real problem since we weren’t just “non-meat-eaters” we were “healthful eaters” and that was in direct opposition to camp fare.

The list of how growing up vegetarian set me apart is long and having passed the “torah” on to my children and grandchildren, the sense of difference gets passed along too I think.

Every year in May I wonder how Yom Ha’atsmaut became the day of burnt offerings. It’s a relatively recent phenomenon since I remember people just enjoying nature, picnicking, going to the beach. My fondest memory of Yom Ha’atsmaut when I first arrived was riding bikes to the beach in near empty streets and having a picnic without the stench of “mangals” burning all around me. I think Israelis see the barbecue as a sign of affluence and I know people love it with a passion. I guess I will always be looking at this minhag (tradition) from the side, with a perplexed look and a nauseous feeling in my stomach.