How can we break this deadlock? Simple.
I swear. The President of Israel needs to bring in a mom to help us form this government. I recommend Israel’s honorary mother: Miriam Peretz. Or we’ll all be stuck here forever. Some guys need to move over. Others back. Others forward. So we ALL eventually get to where we want to go. Someone who can talk sense, with a healthy dose of caring and fear.
An analogy from this week’s Finkelstein adventure:
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“OMG. Please mom. Don’t!”
And with those words trailing behind me, I rolled my eyes, ignored them and I did.
I got out of the car and started directing traffic at my nephew’s masa kumta.
Not the thick-haired Israeli dude in the hulking pick up truck. Not the FedEx truck driver. Not the saba and savta. Not the lady in a shiny electric SUV. Not the soldier. Just little, old me, with my broken Hebrew.
When it comes to deadlock, it’s important to know when to stand up and whom to ignore.
We were sitting at a standstill in Sde Yoav after my nephew’s IDF Givati “masa kumta.” IDF combat soldier training ends with a 40-km trek after which the soldiers receive their “kumta” – their unit’s beret. Thousands of friends and families drive from across the country with feasts, ranging from steak, croissants, to bagels at 6 a.m. to greet and celebrate their achievement. And the surrounding area becomes a literal parking lot.
At 9:30, after baking in the sun, we looked around at the people trickling out of the packed stadium mid-ceremony, and said: we’re never getting out of here.
So we corralled the kids, made a break for it, trekked about 1 km through an olive grove to our car and promptly got stuck in traffic. Deadlock. No one was able to turn from the small street onto the highway to leave via the main route. So, we made a U-turn to go the long way. And there again: no one was moving.
I saw the problem. In the facing lane, a massive truck couldn’t back up or go forward, so no one could get around in either direction. And that’s when my kids’ shrunk under the window line and moaned, “Please, NO! OMG, just stay in the car! Someone else will….”
Sorry kids. I know a thing or two about deadlock in this country. I know no one’s moving over for anyone else. I opened the door and heard the windows roll up with a collective groan of OMG.
And I started telling the shiny SUV facing us to move over so the ridiculous huge black pick up truck next to her and in front of us, facing the wrong direction, could continue in reverse until he found a place to turn around. Nu? Why should I??? Because you’re never getting out of here if you don’t. There wasn’t a sign anywhere on this sleepy farm road letting unsuspecting souls know there was a masa kumta ahead letting out. If they waited patiently, they’d get out soon. HAHAHA.
I kept walking farther down the line of traffic. Directing the pick up truck, helping him find room to move backwards. I got to the stuck FedEx truck. There were just two cars behind him that wouldn’t back up holding everything up! I told them: “Givati Masa kumta finishing up ahead.” They groaned, nodded immediately and reversed until they could U-turn. Then the Fedex truck started in reverse until he could find space to turn around.
As I walked back to my cringing family, I was being hailed with, “Kol hakavod lach!” from the thick-haired Israeli pick up truck driver, then the white-bearded saba, then the guy in the high-tech company car. I got in my car, and we started to drive.
And while my nephew had just trekked for 12 hours to earn his Givati beret, I had just earned the revered “Mitztayen title” for “Israeli badass mom” from my kids, which I lost about 30 minutes later when I spotted hundreds of honey buzzards overhead and needed to stop, gawk, and video. Worth it.
