Over the past 60 years I have managed to publish one book and more than 600 articles. Writing was an integral part of being a university professor. One had to establish a name through credibility.
Few things have excited and pleased me more than yesterday’s telephone call from my esteemed editor, Miriam Herschlag, informing me that my recent article, “Miracle on Dan Bus #4” elicited more than 70,000 views. I was both astounded and deeply humbled that so many readers from across the world shared my emotions of a 1951 bus ride in Tel-Aviv.
It is only recently that I have learned about the meaning of blogging. Normally I would write a weekly column for a local newspaper and was known as a columnist. Now I have a new nomenclature……blogger.
Blogging for me is a way of communicating with other people who may share common interests. I offer information about things that I feel may be of interest to readers both here, in Israel, and in far-away lands.
I strive to make my articles both authentic and genuine in content. I try to share something of my life and my 65 years of memories of Israel.
Hopefully, I encourage response from readers with comments, suggestions and personal remarks. We become partners. I write and the reader responds.
It is, for me, a way of building relationships with anonymous strangers across the globe. Oceans may separate us but thoughts which emanate from one’s heart unites us.
Reading the blogs of others has educated me in many ways and I learn new and interesting things from writers who share.
I write with enthusiasm and passion because I could not be me without it. There are no Pulitzer prizes and no Nobel prizes awarded to newspaper journalists. The greatest prize is the appreciation of the readers.
Writing for The Times of Israel has been a source of salvation for me and has helped me to use creativity as a momentary escape from the present pain and anguish.
And in the end, in the final years allotted to my life, the articles which I have published are kept bound in an album and will be my monument that I leave to my beloved grandchildren, now all adults, who hopefully will remember me through my writing. (I hope that does not sound too egoistic).
But the thrill of recognition conveyed to me by editor Miriam Herschlag has touched me deeply and has warmed the heart of an 83 year old retired professor who once was a someone and is now only a something.