A couple of weeks of marvelous sounds, a new museum, exciting artwork, and capping off with the announced agreement to formally allocate the land for the permanent US embassy in Jerusalem, signed by Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Saar and US Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee. It’s a cultural and historic whirlwind.

As a hyphenated person, an Israeli-American, it is sometimes hard to combine those 2 sources of what makes me. But these last 2 weeks have given me much in the way of enriching the experience and helping me understand my multi-cultural reality better.

I was chuffed to be an invited artist to lead off the first exhibit in the new gallery of the Jay and Jeanie Schottenstein National Campus for the Archaeology of Israel, now the home of the Israel Antiquities Authority, which is newly consolidated. Instead of being spread out among three locations in Jerusalem, (The Rockefeller Museum, the Israel Museum, and Har Hotzfim), the new building brings the various sections together in one stunning location.

Next door to the Bible Lands Museum, and adjacent to The Israel Museum’s Shrine of the Book dedicated to the research and display of the Dead Sea Scrolls – the earliest known text of the Bible –­ the building also houses objects from the Archaeological State Treasures and the National Archaeological Library (the largest archaeology library in Israel) and Archives, as well as opening the National Archaeological Conservation and Restoration Laboratories to the public for the first time.

The planning process was started in the early 2000’s, so perhaps somewhere along the way, a marketer thought it a great idea to include Jerusalem’s artist “artifacts.” Under the very capable eyes and hands of youthful curator Or Avramovitch, 7 artists were invited to initiate the gallery space of this center, including me as well as Linda Adams, Dudu Gerstein, Chana Goldberg, Michal Arnheim, Reuven Zahavi, and Oded Zaidel. The welcoming sign pointed out that this was an exhibit for Golden Week (municipality-speak for the Department of the Elderly) and, if that was not enough, the design underscored that it was for the “Third Age of 61 and over.”

I was delighted to be invited, but would rather it be abilities-based and not to check off on a bureaucrat’s box. Mind you, I am fine with getting free transportation and being offered seats on the bus, which I am happy to accept. I think some inconsistency is also permissible at l’âge certain.

The gallery itself is beautiful, a wide and inviting space full of light pouring in. With Moshe Safdie (a double-hyphenated citizen) as the architect, it is no surprise that light would be a factor. I spent 30-some years raising a family in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City, and my home was also a Safdie-designed space. Both it and others that I have known over those years were unique and no doubt made the experience of living within the walls even more special, quirks aside.

Within days of the announcement of Israel’s Independence, the Arab Legion and others managed to cut Jerusalem off from supply lines, causing shortages of everything. The fall of the Jewish Quarter was well-documented, including by a former neighbor, Puah Steiner, who wrote her memoir, which was my go-to bar/t mitzvah gift for years. Another view of the same time was war-time diary by British clergy man Hugh Jones, now forgotten, that was published by Matti Friedman in 2012 and the Times of Israel, giving a different perspective as the city was undergoing the Battle for Jerusalem, which he described as violent, “dramatic and horrific.” Though collecting bits and pieces of “missiles and bullets” in the Christ Church just inside the Jaffa Gate, he maintained his faith and his devotion to tennis, despite all.

With the Haganah defeated in the Jewish Quarter and the UN Security Council demand for a ceasefire at Lake Success, New York (yes, I know how that sounds), which went into effect on July 16 after a night of “oppressive atmosphere of evil and hate” being compared with “the shrill screech of a couple of cats as they shrieked invective at each other on a nearby wall.” Those cats are very familiar, probably great-grandparents to the ones who kept me awake a few short alleys and decades away.

It remained a divided Jerusalem for 19 years, with the western side of the city under Israeli rule and the eastern side, which included the Old City, under the control of Transjordan until the Six Day War. This roller coaster continues to this day, as we wait to hear the results of the latest round of President Donald Trump’s initiated talks with his emissaries in Doha regarding nuclear talks. Time will tell.

Evidence of the closeness between Israel and the United States was on display at a small exhibition in the National Library of Israel last week, when those attending the celebratory concert marking the 250^th anniversary of the United States of America could see, among other artifacts, the letter by Harry S. Truman and the pen he used to sign the recognition of Israel a mere 11 minutes after sovereignty was declared in Tel Aviv in 1948. Also shown were maps of the original 13 colonies and portraits of founders from the Library’s collection.

The outstanding program, well attended but with a few empty seats (there should be a way to let the public know of last-minute availability), was a thrill. President Isaac Herzog and his wife Michal were in attendance and his extemporaneous remarks were exactly on point as he recalled his father, Chaim Herzog, then-Israel’s Permanent Representative to the United Nations and he, a young student at Ramaz high school in New York experiencing the double centennial of America’s birthday while being overshone by the headlines from Uganda of the Entebbe rescue, in which Yoni Netanyahu, the prime minister’s brother, fell, a hero. As a Washington-area university student at the time, I, too, remember the day well, with the double feelings of proud American and nachas (deep joy) from Israel’s remarkable feat.

Opening with a medley West Side Story by Leonard Bernstein with the Big Band orchestra, and winding through with the SATB Choir performing from Porgy and Bess, April in Paris, two Black spirituals, more big band tunes, and beautifully closing with again with a medley of Bernstein’s remarkable score with a number of solos including that of a wildly talented pianist and vocalist who did a scat rendition for his turn at the mike, after other highly skilled vocalists and musician soloists. It was one thing hearing Bernstein’s score on film, and another whole level live. With more than 70 choir members alone, in addition to the musicians it was impactful as live music can be.

The hyphenated person in me was very grateful, for a change, to know every word of the songs, so part of my early life, rather than stumble through my much later Hebrew add-ins. Thanks to the applause ovation for more,  the grateful audience experienced an encore of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” which was the perfect note to end on, especially meaningful at this juncture and location.