In Memory of Sam

At one point in our correspondence in the past year and a half, Sam wrote me, "While I was dying, I kept myself busy writing songs." I wrote him that I had never had a person write me what they were thinking about while dying and live to describe it. Sam was, until now, truly a survivor, and fought cancer for many years.

Sam was my madrich in KM Bet in 1966 at Camp Tavor. We were unusually close because we were both musicians, and after occasional contact over the years and then many years of losing touch with Sam, I was overjoyed to find him again on the Habonet List. When I first appeared on the list, he wrote, "Hey, Barb, is that YOU?" We then began a correspondence, in which we filled each other in about what we had been doing, and Sam sent me a lot of his music. I sent him the words to a song I wrote a month or so ago, and we exchanged news of our grandchildren. I'm glad to know that he lived to see the birth of his granddaughter, and to hold her.

I think I have spent the last few months fearing bad news about Sam, wondering if he would survive his latest battle with cancer, but I'm sad to learn that he finally succumbed to his illness. He was one of those people who was lucky to leave a legacy benind them.

The following is a passage from "Blue Shirt with a Red Lace", a book that I wrote (unpublished) about my life in Habonim and on kibbutz. It is about Sam and his songs, so I'll share it here.

Not only did we have a rich repertoire of Israeli folk songs and popular songs, American topical, folk, songs and ballads and the songs of the labor movement. We also had our own songwriter among us. Sam, our talented madrich was a prolific songwriter. He would pick up his guitar, transfer his cigarette from his mouth to its position between the strings at the head of his guitar where it would sit while he played.

Sam had a voice that was rough at the edges, but he knew how to deliver a song. We adored his songs, which covered a broad range of topics, but his most well-known song was “ Splendor Bridge ” - a song that he wrote about making Aliya to Gesher HaZiv, the kibbutz to which his gar’in was destined.

Don't you ask me
What I'm thinking
If I make you happy
I will keep on singing
For I sing when I can't talk
And I dance when I can't walk
And I'm going back to Splendor Bridge
Gonna try to call it home.



None of us could write songs like Sam. We admired him greatly, and fondly referred to his music as “Sam songs.” At one point I bitterly complained to a friend that I could not keep up - as soon as I finally learned to sing and play one song, Sam promptly showed up the next week with one or two more.

We all loved Sam for his music and for his support as he worked alongside of us planning activities in the city, putting up tents at camp, or sitting around singing. I believe that I had more than a little crush on Sam at the time and probably felt a strong kinship with him because we were both musicians, and longed for his praise and approval of my own playing and singing. For those of us who were musicians, Sam was someone to look up to, but he was not a famous songwriter who was unreachable, but one of us – he was there with us in his blue movement shirt, shorts, and sandals, planning activities with us, working at camp, putting up tents, or sitting in the clubhouse singing.

We gave Sam a surprise party when he was about to leave on Aliya. Sitting in a circle, we each said our goodbyes in our own way. The song “ Splendor Bridge ” remained with us and became an anthem.

Years later while writing this book I was overjoyed to find Sam again through the Internet after losing track of him for years. He then wrote me the following story:

I came back to New York City in 1971 and there was this kid in Washington Square singing Splendor Bridge . I was there with my new wife. Boy was she taken aback. So I asked the kid where he got the song and he said he collected it in the hills of West Virginia . That was a real laugher.

Then some time in the 80's I was driving through Michigan with a friend and I said I wanted to stop in this camp. He said "Sam, don't be stupid. No one is going to remember you after 20 years.” So we walked in and everyone was just wandering around. I asked for the Rosh Machaneh and this child by the name of Rachel appears. So I explain I was a madrich in the 60's. She asks me my name and I say Sam and she says "Flesher?" My friend nearly fainted. And then she gathers all 80 kids around the toren and gives me a guitar and says “ Play Splendor Bridge .” And I do and all 80 kids sing along. Boy, my friend was confused. The next year I returned with my son Amir who was 14 at the time and he too was kind of amazed that all the kids knew my song.

Yehi Zichro Baruch.

Carpets of Anemones

Only in Israel do people turn out in droves to see an unusual phenomenon of wild flowers blooming. THere were, indeed, droves pf people at Meggido flocking to a former panding strip to see the field of anemones in flower. The place was, as my friend Carol says, "huuching with people." But there was plenty of room along the somewhat muddy paths marked off with string and plenty of flowers to see.
The colors ranged from white to pink, mauve, lavender, and red...



And, occasionally, whimsical Mother Nature just can't make up her mind...



When I asked Rotem how many flowers were in the field, she said..."About a google."

Water Water and more Water!

Above: One of the main roads in Ben Ami!

Everyone is, without exception, talking about the weather. We stood amazed as rivers of water formed in the drainage ditches, rushing noisily past as rain continued to fall. Nahariya's main thoroughfare flooded as the Geaton overflowed its banks, and the riverbed in the moshav soon filled to capacity and the water spread to the roads and paths. The house is now filled with the unmistakable smell of eau du wet dog. We need this rain badly, but, as many other things in the country, nothing comes in moderation.


The front yard has now turned into a series of rivers and pools.

Settling In at Home

Left: Suki and Saoirse getting used to each other

Suki is lying at my feet happily transforming a leather bone into a masticated mess, and has acclimatized to moshav life with ease. Two days ago I was hesitant to take her out of the house, but soon after that we went to the grocery store for the first time, and have just returned from a walk around the block with Suki in harness and Saoirse and Nuala happily walking alongside. On the way I stopped to investigate the basketball court near the youth club and found it to be a perfect place for letting Suki run safely in an enclosed, fenced area. (The temptation to do this is overwhelming, but this will begin only after some time when I develop full trust that Suki will return to me upon command when set free).

Walking through Ben Ami Suki is cooperative and responds just like in the city in areas where there are curbs, crosswalks, and sidewalks, but walks along the road where there are none as we did in the rural walking exercise on the course. She must be terribly stimulated by everything around her – a rooster crowing, dogs barking, leaves blowing, the smell of goats, citrus fruit, and flowers - but she continues on, obeying commands, occasionally glancing behind her, perhaps to see where the other two dogs are.I imagine that her growing up in a foster family with two other dogs is invaluable in her good adjustment, and I must commend Salirse and Nuala for their good behavior as well.

Getting Back Home to A'anin

We arrived at Jalameh after driving Aya and her mother Suheil from Rambam Hospital. The sky was an oppressive dusty haze of an approaching hamsin, and little Aya was fussy and cried in the car. Perhaps she also felt the strange weather. We immediately saw a group of women from Jenin who complained that things are difficult at the checkpoint in the morning and that people are delayed.
The new facility for vehicle crossing has begun to operate since Tuesday of this week. The crossing is open from 08:00 until 17:00 and is now being tested. We spoke with Tzachi, the head of the checkpoint who answered our questions politely. Israelis who wish to cross must ask for a permit at the Central Command of the IDF. Israelis “…whose lives will not be endangered” are permitted to cross and visit Jenin. The opening of the vehicle crossing is a positive step, since it encourages business in Jenin and enabled families to visit each other. There was a line of 8 cars in front of the inspection hut and another 10 next to the inspection facility. There was no waiting line in the terminal.

On the way to A'anin we stopped to turn at the road leading to the checkpoint at the end. A policeman pulled up next to us and waved to get our attention. I rolled down the window.

"Don't turn here. There's nothing to the left of here."

He was trying to be helpful, no doubt it never occurred to him that we were heading towards the fence at the end of the road.

"Thanks, but there's the gate to A'anin at the end of the road."

Now that the olive harvest has begun, A’anin agricultural checkpoint is open every day. When we arrived there were about 60 people, tractors, and wagons standing in front of the closed gate. A man was gathering everyone’s I.D. cards and arranging the order by which people would pass through. The soldiers, who are now equipped with a laptop computer, check people’s documents, but this added technology does not seem to make the checkpoint more efficient: in fact, we have never seen such a delay here. At 15:40 the gate opened and the man holding everyone’s I.D.’s began calling names. People waited patiently and the checks were done slowly. A car from the Liaison and Coordination Administration left, apparently deciding that the passage was efficient enough. At 16:15 there were still 30 people waiting, and the first tractor and wagon with two women was still being detained in front of the second gate. At 16:20 all the tractors had gone through and there were still 15 people outside.


Above: Waiting at the gate to A'anin...to get back home.The last person passed through the gate at 16:25. It took an entire hour to let 60 people back to their homes in the village of A’anin from the seamline zone, where they had been working all day on their own land!A soldier with the rank of captain came to close the gate and we approached him to ask why the tractor and wagon with the women had been detained. Neta asked politely if we could ask him something.

“No,” the captain replied curtly.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

Sigh. We left for Reihan.

4 cars are waiting to be checked at the vehicle checkpoint at Reihan. There is a line of about 30 people at the entrance to the terminal and only one window open. The usual situation – occasionally the turnstile opened, and 5-6 people went in. At 16:55 Neta tried to call Sharon to ask him to open another window. The didn’t answer, but after a short time another window opened and traffic flowed more quickly. Looking back, I thought perhaps we should plant a scarecrow of a Machsom watcher at the entrance to be caught by the cameras, complete with hat, purse and tag, to keep the inspectors aware that someone was watching...We hoped it would remain open and left.

Forgiveness or Intolerance - Yom Kippur Reflections

This year's Yom Kippur was marked, among other things, by Iran deliberately choosing the day to launch a new Shahab missile capable of reaching Israel: a deliberate act of intolerance, antagonism, and flaunting of military strength. Reactions here included the same spectrum of intolerance, belligerance, and antagonism. The choices are ours. It still seems to me that we are fighting fire with fire, rather than attempting to diffuse the situation, if indeed it can be diffused.

At the end of the day I dressed Rotem in her white dress, and we set off for the synagogue to hear the shofar at the end of the fast day. Surprisingly, there are now two synagogue services in Ben Ami which is ordinarily a secular community: new residents who live in the new neighborhood are evidently reluctant to join the Ashkenazi service and called for a Sepharadi one alongside. Entering the hall below the uncompleted synagogue (after 5 years I sort of doubt it will ever be finished) I soon realized that I had entered the Sepharaci service. The usual Ben Amo crowd from my block was not here, but the music was much more to my liking, so I stayed. I put Rotem on my lap and we were soon singing Avinu Malkenu and chanting "Adonai Hu HaElokim" to a thoroughly unfamiliar melody. No more minor slow Ashkenazi melodies. We were soon clapping hands. I was definitely born into the wrong sect. I'm switching.

Taking |Rotem on my lap, I whispered to her that Yom Kippur was about to end, and that this was the time to forgive any animosities.

"Rotem, this is the time to say "slicha". If I ever said anything or did anything during the last year that hurt your feelings or made you angry, I'm sorry." I took her hand and we stood up with the rest of the congregation. She stood open-mouthed as the shofar sounded again and again, and we went outside into the moonlit evening.

Rotem then asked me to come with her to ask our neighbor's child, Noam, to make up. I don't know what they had a disagreement about, but Rotem wanted to end it, but she did not have the courage to face Noam alone. We walked over and Rotem said she wanted to make up. Noam did not answer.

"It's OK, Rotem, you did the right thing. Maybe Noam will think about it." We walked home as the stars came out and I told her how difficult it is even for adults to forgive sometimes and end their anger at each other.

Perhaps small children are learning better than adults to be tolerant and forgive. Maybe they can show us.