A Conversation in the Shelter: Natan the Talkative

My wife and I had come to Israel for our first grandchild’s wedding, expecting to stay only ten days. Instead, that very Shabbos, the current war with Iran began, and our return home was delayed for nearly two additional weeks. During those anxious days of sirens, shelters, and uncertainty, I found myself writing.

A Conversation in the Shelter
Natan the Talkative

We were jolted from our sleep by our first alert at our new hotel in Modi’in at about 10:42 p.m. on Shushan Purim. We walked down to the mamad — the shelter — and found ourselves alone except for the night manager at the front desk, Natan.

His English was good enough for conversation, and we passed the time talking. In Rechovot, we had become accustomed to waiting about ten minutes after the siren before leaving the shelter. When the clock crept past fifteen minutes, I finally asked Natan why we were still waiting.

There may well be official reasons to remain until the formal all-clear message is received. But Natan offered a more practical explanation. His shift was ending in just a few minutes, at 11:00 p.m. It was a pleasant way to finish the evening, so he simply kept the conversation going.

I smile thinking about it now.

As we finally walked out, I reminded him that the TV remote I had requested earlier that day had still not been delivered.

He was completely nonplussed.

His shift was over.