Aliyah Blog 38: Talking in Quiet Peace

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Aliyah Diary

Arrival
01. Aug 19, 2024: Preparation In America
02. Aug 25, 2024: First Few Days
03. Aug 29, 2024: Moving In

Cultural Adjustment
04. Sept 4, 2024: First Day of School
05. Sept 8, 2024: Two Weeks In . . .
06. Sept 16, 2024: Getting Comfortable
07. Sept 22, 2024: Ready for Yom Tov
09. Sept 30, 2024: Nasrallahed on the Floor
15. Nov 10, 2024: Safety Fourth
18. Nov 24, 2024: Language – l’at, ‘lat
29. Jan 31, 2025: My Son Still in America
31. Feb 3, 2025: Internet Filtering for Kids
34. Feb 17, 2025: Finding Obscure Things
37. Mar 3, 2025: Technical Difficulties

The Roads
24. Jan 5, 2025: Supermarkets & Highways
25. Jan 12, 2025: Not Cutting Me Off
36. Feb 25, 2025: Road Rules of Israel

Government and Bureaucracy
10. Oct 8, 2024: Driver’s License
11. Oct 13, 2024: Packages. (חבילות.)
13. Oct 30, 2024: Bureaucracies and Stories
19. Nov 28, 2024: Taxation for Americans
22. Dec 23, 2024: Doctors & “Choleh Chadash”
27. Jan 23, 2025: Healthcare in Israel
32. Feb 5, 2025: How To Hire the Wrong Person
33. Feb 10, 2025: Quest to Pay My Taxes

Politics & Thought
12. Oct 25, 2024: October Sun and the Jew
16. Nov 17, 2024: Where People Look Like Me
17. Nov 19, 2024: Jewish Identity and Outlook
21. Dec 11, 2024: Let Freedom Ring
38. Mar 6, 2025: Talking in Quiet Peace

Travel and Trips
08. Sept 25, 2024: Jerusalem Concert
14. Nov 2, 2024: The Kindness of Strangers
20. Dec 5, 2024: Tel Aviv Art Museum
23. Dec 29, 2024: The West Bank. (Shomron)
26. Jan 18, 2025: Dead Sea Beer and Ice Cream
28. Jan 26, 2025: Yarkon River Judaism, Tel Aviv
30. Jan 31, 2025: My Son Visits and we Travel
35. Feb 20, 2025: Mitzpe Ramon Stars, Ein Avdat

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Today, I write about a few recent things, none really having much to do with the other. For one, trying to find someone to fix a grandfather clock of a kind no one finds in Israel. For two, an Arab cashier complimenting me on how well I speak Hebrew for being here only six months. For three, I’m realizing that Jews are often sensory issue people like me and like quiet – quiet enough that you can have a conversation with an Arab cashier because the machines don’t beep. For four, speaking better in Hebrew is a mixed blessing because people stopped answering me in English and answer me in superfast Hebrew now. For five, best time waiting in a waiting room (cheder Hamatana – like … sounds like room for presents). For six, broke my wife’s computer and hiring people to fix things is a lot cheaper around here than America. For seven, reminding people from Passaic/Clifton that “Dwasline” has nothing to do with a sewer or water line.

For One: Finding someone to fix a grandfather clock

Growing up I thought they were called grandfather clocks because your grandfather was supposed to have one. My grandfather loved his grandfather clock and bought top of the line. It has “organ pipes”, says the elderly Russian gentlemen I found to fix it. When I taught 6th grade history and got to Reconstruction, I threw in there the origins of the name “grandfather clock” – it’s from a sad song popular in the 1870s when the right to vote was “grandfathered in” because you could vote in the South only if your grandfather could.

(All my teaching material is available for free use – I researched a ton about American Jewish history because it isn’t exactly available for middle schools and in Israel it’s not so in demand … like an American grandfather clock. I’d love if the material got used.)

My grandfather’s grandfather clock company went out of business in 1983 and there isn’t so much of a market for them today. I have huge emotional attachments to this clock, though I see why they went out of business – every week you need to wind the clock and when the weather changes you need to tinker with the weight so it tells time accurately, and there’s the once a year cleaning and things break – a digital clock that automatically syncs with an atomic clock costs less than $20 today.

So given that the grandfather clocks are out of style and when they were in style, Israel was a poor country where importing them wasn’t a priority, says the clock repair man … he’s only seen two like this in his life: one many decades ago in Russia, and a second one which is this one from America. Hope it comes back working.

For Two: Complimentary Arab Cashier

This still throws me though it shouldn’t after six months. Yet, it does. American news only reports news in Israel related to death and destruction – not what people do day to day. It’s like a Bechdel test of sorts. A non-Israeli news outlet only passes the Bechdel-Israel test if it has at least one piece a year about Israel that doesn’t involve death or destruction.

Standing in a checkout line at the grocery store, where I couldn’t find dill, leek, or basil (you need to go to Super Tov if you want to do your food shopping in only one place and you’re American), in the quiet with no music from the ceiling and no beeping machines, I started talking to the woman behind me and then the Arab cashier with Hijab joined in. Side note: I do not miss blaring music in seemingly every American commercial location that holds more than 10 people. There’s a kosher restaurant in Deal, NJ (or somewhere around there) that plays, “I love you when you call me senioritta”. Not the song. The phrase – over and over on repeat for hours.

Okay, “For Two” is about the Arab cashier (“this is a song about Alice” … just kidding, probably not her name. Ten points if you got my reference.) She started complimenting me on how well my Hebrew is progressing after only six months and she wants to help out with getting me discounts by joining the “moaadan” (the “club”) that most stores have around here which gives you discounts. She was so friendly … and it was so weird. In the parking lot, my car was near the woman being me that was part of the conversation and I had to check … what that for real? Don’t Arabs hate us? Why would she be praising me, yet another Jews, coming to Israel?

Yes, I was understanding correctly, says the Jewish lady who was behind me in line. It’s so confusing … I had more of an aversion to woman in hijabs in America than I do in Israel. It’s also a little interesting because here the non-Jews aren’t Christian-traditioned … their Muslim-traditioned. They also seem to have no problem with loud noises coming from high towers five times a day. Maybe many do. Don’t know.

For Three: Sensory Issues and Quiet

Hispanics, told me a Jew from Puerto Rico many years ago, like to “share” their music. In America I lived near quite many Hispanics – who were quite friendly, I must add – who shared their music way too much. It’s considered rude to have music and keep it to yourself. The most noise I hear on the street in Israel was from a passing Purim van.

Music here is in some stores and not others. When it is there, it’s not so loud that you need earplugs to avoid permanent damage. I joined a new gym called “spaces” (eventually I plan to write a gym article anew). The theme is: space. It’s black with some purple color which looks conspicuously like that of Planet Fitness, only used far less often. Even in Planet Fitness, the “gym for everybody”, they had sensory overload protruding pattern optical illusion metal walls, loud horrible music, and rows of TV screens. This is the quiet gym in America.

The quiet gym in Israel is almost all black and the music is soft or not on at all. When it was on, I was actually mumbling along with one of the songs – “Sound of Silence” … an almost acapella version.

For Four: Speaking Better Hebrew is a Mixed Blessing

I’m starting to speak Hebrew in “real-time” … it emanates from my body almost as quickly as I’d like to do so, after six months of practice. At least, for the words I know. I’m learning slowly and can fake it well enough that the average Israeli no longer responds to me in English. Instead, the respond to me in Hebrew that often sounds like one continuous word that extends for ten seconds. Then I have to slow them down or just pretend I understand because I comprehended enough words to get the idea.

For Five: Best Time in the Waiting Room

It took me three months to get an appointment with a specialist on my insurance plan. I could have paid privately, especially to an American that charges American rates. I was in no rush, so whatever … went to this appointment that I booked three months prior in a city that Waze said is 25 minutes from me. Turns out it was actually 50 minutes at the time I was driving. It’s fine because I like to explore new places and things.

The city of Petach Tikvah is not much different than other cities in Israel – not enough parking. What is it with Israel and the perennial lack of parking? You can go into the parking garage for the mall – free for up to two hours – not uncommon for some free time for parking – only Israel parking lots have this thing where you can’t walk on foot through the entrance, so you have to find another way in … hidden staircase or tractor beam somewhere.

After first trying to pull into a parking lot that apparently, I’m not allowed to enter, I parked at the mall and asked directions because that’s how you do things around here. Walking around the other side of the building from where Waze sent me, I seem to have understood the person’s directions well enough to find the doctor’s office.

Made it 15 minutes early. Doctor took me 30 minutes late.

Problem you say? Nah. There were three other people in the waiting room and it’s not like America where you avoid eye contact with others. At least, I didn’t. I’m much more social in Israel because everyone’s … friendly, mostly. They’re also not scary. Could be that I’m the strange one striking up conversations in waiting rooms though having lack of perception of what other people think has its benefits. I’m an introvert who acts like an extrovert.

Any chance to practice Hebrew is a good one for me. Not always for the other person though, again, how would I know? 🙂 Generally, you ask people to tell you about themselves and make them feel good about themselves because they can teach you something, and they smile. I was talking to a guy and asking him for help correcting my masculine/feminine numbers for plural, past tense and … he didn’t know. Well, take that Hebrew tutor. Apparently, immigrants sometimes speak Hebrew better than natives.

Another woman in the waiting room (the present room – ha), was smiling … so I said that to the guy in Hebrew and then she joined in, in the conversation. She’s been in Israel 6 years, from South Africa, and she said my Hebrew is better than hers … I really do not, not, not want to be one of those loud Americans that goes around the world speaking as if the world should bow down to them even if our president is now Trump. There are those here 30 years who can’t speak the local language and if we don’t accept it from Spanish speakers in the US… why accept it in Israel? I may be a hypocrite about many things, though not about this.

For Six: Broke my wife’s computer

I changed the battery in a laptop. Battery charges just fine. Computer doesn’t turn on. So I found a place to fix it – it’s like … $100 or $200 (well, I’ll wait for the actual bill) to fix a probable motherboard issue. Services … where you hire people … are a lot less expensive in Israel. We’ll see if it gets fixed. If not, there are computer stores where, again, the service has been excellent and the workers speak English well. There’s an 18% tax though if you’re like most Israelis, you travel to Eilat for Chanukah where there’s no sales tax to buy computers.

For Seven: “Dwasline” Has Nothing to Do with a Sewer Line

The Chofetz Chaim says that just because someone says something as a “by the way…”, it’s still loshon hora. Someone might say, “Yeah, he’s a nice guy though, by the way … he takes advantage of immigrants.” Not okay to say. (I changed facts so the person can’t be figured out.)

That’s kind of how it is with Dwasline, a road in Clifton, NJ. I’m reminded of this by a parent of a student from last year when I taught 6th grade history. This comes up in Passaic/Clifton conversations too much … “Ah, you have to take Dwasline to get there … and by the way … it stands for “Department of Water and Sewer.”

If the kids remember one thing from class, it should be that Dwasline has nothing to do with a sewer system. The road fcwvas n` … dang nabit. The cat sat on my keyboard and wreaked havoc on my diary entry. That word above is pronounced the same as “covfefe”.

Alright, so not really relevant to aliyah – though it is my life’s mission to correct this historical untruthitude. Dwasline means “cross line” or “division line” in Dutch and was named as such in 1714 soon after the area was settled by the Dutch. The road is named for the division of the land at the crest of the hill (there’s a cross street named Cresthill, named as much for the toothpaste factory at Dwasline for the sewer line). I assure you there were no sewers there in 1714 nor would they have even planned for such devices not in use for almost a century afterwards.

See Historical Sketch of Passaic County; 1922 – pg 17 and Passaic and Its Environs; ~1877 – pg 578.

Historical Sketch of Passaic County; 1922 – pg 17

The Indians in New Jersey were so numerous prior to 1655, and so uncertain in their attitude towards the whites, that the latter did not penetrate much inland.  About that time, after a brief but bloody war, the supremacy of the invading race was established . . . a sort of “real estate” fever soon developed itself . . .

The first real estate transaction . . . in 1678, when an Indian chief sold what is now known as the Dundee Island . . . pay rent of “one fat henn.”  

In March 28, 1679 they bought off the Indians the coveted territory, paying for it in “coates, blankets, bettles, powder, and other goods” . . .

They probably took possession of their purchase in the autumn of 1683 . . . along the river bank, up as far as the present Main Avenue bridge in Passaic, fourteen farms of equal size being laid out along the river . . . the rest of the tract was similarly apportioned from time to time as the settlement grew, until 1714 when the last division was made.  Some of the ancient division lines between these tracts retained until very recently their Dutch name of dwaaarslijn, corrupted into “cross-line.”  One of them runs through Acquackanonk township , about half-way between the river and the mountain.”

Passaic and Its Environs; ~1877 – pg 578

The former name, the one applied by the first settlers, was “Dwas” (a corruption of Dwasslijn) signifying division line.  In 1685, when this region was first settled, farms were laid out in two tiers.  The first tier extended from the river back [sic] to this lane, and the second from the lane to the mountain.  Dwarslijn shortened to dwas (meaning division line), was the name given by the Dutch to an old road still in existence, partly in Clifton and partly in Passaic.  The portion in Passaic has been known as Albion street, of which it is a continuation, or nearly so.