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More unconnected a.m. thoughts
Aug. 1st, 2006 09:58 am1) No one in Lebanon is saying anything against Hezbollah anymore. No one. If you haven't heard of the massacre at Qana (the second in ten years), a brief update. In 1996, Lebanese civilians (mainly children and old people) taking shelter in a UN building in the village of Qana were hit by an Israeli missile. 106 of them died. This weekend, 60 women, children, and old people were hiding in a shelter in Qana, and again were hit. 52 of them died, and 37 of those were children. No Lebanese person, Muslim, Christian, or Druze is asking for peace with Israel anymore. Likewise, Israelis, even the leftist pacifist Israelis, are more and more in favor of escalation. This is a classic conflict spiral. Just remember, Israel gets their missiles from us.
My friend's parents moved back to Lebanon last year after more than 30 years in Baltimore. I worry about her, and I worry about her family, and I ask for your intercession with whatever spiritual powers you believe in for their safety.
2) And totally unrelated: I love the CEO of my company. I passed him in the hallway a few minutes ago, and he asked me how I was doing. "I'm about to sneeze," I told him. "Oh! Good that I stopped by!" he replied. Silliness often wins my affection and admiration.
3) Someone who has never been there posted about how Africans are so kind and hospitable and she can't wait to move there. I must be terribly jaded. I was thinking, "Oh, you're not going to last a month." Once you've had a few stones thrown at you, you feel differently about the world. It is no longer a beautiful garden with soft music, but a rather gritty place. And I'd give a lot to go back to Africa. I miss it, despite the nonstop stress and malnutrition and daily harassment. I miss my friends, and the way that I thought when I was there. I miss those parts of myself. Also, the food. And honestly, I learned that I can put up with stress and harassment. I'm strong, and I'm smart enough to manage. The real trick is being able to continue to see human beings when you walk down the street, rather than potential causes of trouble. This is a trick that I might like to teach Israelis and Arabs. How to endure shame and keep your head high, and still love each other. But it takes hard work, and a certain amount of natural affinity for other people, and a lot of stubbornness. So maybe I just got lucky.
My friend's parents moved back to Lebanon last year after more than 30 years in Baltimore. I worry about her, and I worry about her family, and I ask for your intercession with whatever spiritual powers you believe in for their safety.
2) And totally unrelated: I love the CEO of my company. I passed him in the hallway a few minutes ago, and he asked me how I was doing. "I'm about to sneeze," I told him. "Oh! Good that I stopped by!" he replied. Silliness often wins my affection and admiration.
3) Someone who has never been there posted about how Africans are so kind and hospitable and she can't wait to move there. I must be terribly jaded. I was thinking, "Oh, you're not going to last a month." Once you've had a few stones thrown at you, you feel differently about the world. It is no longer a beautiful garden with soft music, but a rather gritty place. And I'd give a lot to go back to Africa. I miss it, despite the nonstop stress and malnutrition and daily harassment. I miss my friends, and the way that I thought when I was there. I miss those parts of myself. Also, the food. And honestly, I learned that I can put up with stress and harassment. I'm strong, and I'm smart enough to manage. The real trick is being able to continue to see human beings when you walk down the street, rather than potential causes of trouble. This is a trick that I might like to teach Israelis and Arabs. How to endure shame and keep your head high, and still love each other. But it takes hard work, and a certain amount of natural affinity for other people, and a lot of stubbornness. So maybe I just got lucky.
