History in America OR My tiny part in it

On November 4th, 2008, an event that never happened before happened, that I will remember for a very long time. It took me more than 8 years to be in America to see. The government, society and politics seemed to have been interested in stopping it for the longest time. I got to vote... but enough about me... for now...

As most people in the world know, on November 4th, 2008 history was made (yes, most – not sure that the guy speaking in click language in mid-Africa was able to click that there’s a new president in America), when Obama was elected to highest office in the United States, perhaps the world.

Pundits in the media had theories ranging from the accepted new diversity in America to the end of the Reagan-era. I think we need to start a new theory that vowel-to-letter ratio is higher for Obama than it is for McCain, which is the source of his strength. True, it didn’t work for all presidents before, but it’s definitely true now in this particular instance in 2008. Can’t argue with that. As strong an argument as the media has. 2012 elections? Obama needs to pray the Republicans don’t nominate Caesar Sequoia.

Or… it could just be that people got sick and tired of a president and administration that sucks more than a dyson vaccum and blows more than Katrina (pun intended).


They like to say now that this means the end of racism in America. Really? In all of vast land of the United States, there are about 7 houses left that are not about to be forclosed by the banks, and all of them owned by John McCain. And still 46% voted against Obama. Oh right – racism is gone with the wind.
In the popular vote, Obama got 9M more votes than McCain. The media called it a landslide. What does this mean? If 5M of those voters changed their mind the other way (and because of the great 2-party system they would have voted for McCain), McCain would have probably won. 5 millions changing their votes out of about 130M cast.

Want to put that in perspective? An estimated 5.2 million Americans have Alzheimer's disease. They may have wanted to vote for McCain and forgot.
Nearly 5 million Americans have dry eyes – they may have not even seen the names on the ballot.
More than 6 million Americans abuse prescription drugs - They may have wanted to vote McCain but the pink 3-eyed bunny living on their shoulder told them to change their vote.
Really - a landslide.

As I don’t belong to any of those 3 groups (while a few drinks in me would make me see my very own pink bunny, I call him Lloyd Bismol…), my vote for Obama was more valid, or at least I hope so.

So my first presidential vote in the US was a short experience overall. By the way – in my first presidential vote I voted for Obama. Result? He won. In 2006 I got to vote in my first mid-term elections – voted for the Democrats all across. Result? Democrats took back the house for the first time since 1994. Moved to Boston in the end of 2000. New England Patriots result? First Super Bowl championship in history. I’m just saying…

So in that Tuesday we walked to our polling station with Lia in the stroller. The polling station was in the church of a gymnasium. I don’t know about all the lines they were talking about in Ohio of people waiting in the rain for hours, but I know we strolled in directly to the booths that seem so sturdy, I believe mine toppled over because I sneezed. Lia was running around all across so there’s a chance I might have voted for Charles Jay of the Boston Tea Party (couldn’t make up a funnier option - CJ08.com; he also ran in 2004 - his running mate? Marilyn Chambers – a porn star in the 70s – only in America).

But anyway… I voted on all the measures etc. I got chickens to see sun before we use them for our own use, for a speed train from Los Angeles to San Francisco that will probably be built by 2027 when both cities will be under water, and to let all people marry who they want. Not all issues are of the same importance and magnitude… We put the ‘I Voted’ stickers on Lia, who was very proud to take part of the western democracy. Also, the stickers had nice colors to them…

Of course by the time we got back home that evening in California, all was but over, while you wouldn’t have figured that out from the media – they stretched how ‘open it is’ as much they could, while Ohio went to Obama and that meant it was really over.
But for me – I felt I was part of bigger America, and it was quick, anti-cathartic and a little fun. Obama got 68,236,957 votes. I'm responsible for it not being 68,236,956 and that will always be the case, so it's pretty cool.
In Israel we got the day off for election days, which happens about evey 2-3 months. Free from work every election day. Here in the U.S. I worked like crazy that day, and had to email with work back-and-forth while I was voting for the leader of the ‘free world’. Ironic…

Façade in America OR Back to the Future

Bright light - jump to the past.

6/24/1990. Going through the eventual descent into the United States for the first time was one of the more exciting moments in my life. And not just because it felt nice to be on a Sabena flight that was landing not in the People’s Republic of Congo and by the original pilots. I could see the American land far away, which already looked different than everything I knew. I took a big breath, eased my head backwards as I drank the scenery coming closer and close at me, only to have my head jolted by a strong kick from the back – a lot of Israelis on that flight.

We just entered the 90s, and one of the movies that were supposed to come out that summer was the third in the Back To The Future film series. I didn’t get to see the first back to the future in the theatre, but caught it, oh – I don’t know, a few hundred times in the holy land’s local pirate cable channel. And I loved it in the 157th time as if it was the 73rd. If nothing else, the music in the climax of the film, when Marty goes back, was my favorite music (grunge was not big yet). And as we were landing, that music went through my mind – the trumpets, the violins, the entire orchestra harmonizing together just in the second (oh yes, I timed it) the wheels touched the ground.

Bright light - jump to the future.

10/15/2004. In some complex twist of faith, and mostly because I pushed for it like a hungry tiger, after going to grad school, I got a job in Universal Studios Hollywood. In about October 2004 I was able to take walks from time to time in the Universal lot, and low and behold, one of the main points in the studio tour is of the Hill Valley clock tower from Back to the Future.
There it was standing larger than life, with some old-town stores and roads around it, where Michael J. Fox was chased by some small-minded idiots, but not Rush Limbaugh yet. This is something that millions of people can see every year and I did myself – only usually you are crammed in the studio tour tram with hundreds of other people. Standing up from your chair would include a nasty scream by the actor-wannabe-studio guide. Leaning forward from the tram, would stop the tram to get reprimanded by both the guide and the driver in front of the other tourists while being filmed by the Japanese ones. Trying to actually leave the tram would release every Universal monster to eat your flesh alive. But this was different. While every 10-15 minutes a tram would pass by, I and some other friends had a chance to walk around, walk up close to the tower and so on. Now, wouldn’t the best ride in Universal be zooming down the zip line like Doc Brown did? So of course I tried to get into the building. Only there was nothing there.

I walked around, and there was indeed a building this façade was attached to. Only it was a dirty old storage for props, with teamsters laying around the back competing who can do the least work for the longest. A sign over them was saying – ‘ 147 days without an accident’. Another one – ‘231 days without working’, which is surprising when you think about it.
I wasn’t really surprised. I loved the film, but I wasn’t that naïve. I knew that it’s all make-belief. I wasn’t really expecting seeing Doc Brown and Marty McFly waiting for me behind the wall. But come on… would have been nice to have a poster of them or something, right?
And I guess that this is the problem that I, and I know many visitors in America have – beautiful façade, while behind it may lie ill-content and people who don’t really want anything to do with you. There are different names for that – politically correct, courtesy, fake , phony.
One of the most surprising and repeatable encounters I have with visitors to the U.S. is going to any retail store. When leaving, the store employees generally greet the shoppers with the ever-green ‘have a nice day’. Instead of absorbing this random act of kindness and going about one’s day, visitors usually see this as some aggressive behavior equivalent only to that person giving them the finger and spitting in their eye. My mother was on the mild side saying ‘like she cares at all how my day goes!’
What I usually try to explain to visitors is that – ‘right, but why not hear it anyway?’ The problem is when it has to do with personal relationships. And many foreigners say the same thing – ‘you can’t really tell what the Americans really mean’. They say ‘let’s do lunch’ but mean ‘let’s do lunch. But not together”; they say “I love you” and they mean “please go away and die”.
So yes – there’s quite some façade in American relationships. But what I have also witnessed is much generosity that is pretty rare around the world.

Bright light - jump to the past.

8/1/2002. Maya and I drove cross-country from Boston to Los Angeles. We were now in a new city – we knew no one. We had 4 very small eyes in a massively large new city. At the very end of August 2002 I started commuting to University of Southern California with another classmate – Katherine. Less than 2 months later, Katherine and her family invited both myself and Maya to spend the Thanksgiving day and meal with their family and closest friends. This was the first Thanksgiving they have invited us over for every year since. Including when we grew 100% year over year by bringing both our new daughter and my father that they specifically invited.
So yes, foreigners see Americans as unauthentic, with much façade without knowing what’s really behind it. This may be true sometimes. Other people around the world don’t have such façade usually – what you see is what you get. I learned that what's really behind the clock tower in the studio is not a props building - it's that great story and characters of that film.

So if you’re lucky enough to be able to truly go through that front, there’s actually much substance behind it, and usually it is kinder and more generous than most places in the world.

Bright light. Back to the future – To be Continued.

Giants in America – OR America the Giant

A couple of weeks ago I visited Yosemite National Park with my family, or as Lia likes to call it – Yoo-sammy – which I think is a much better name, and should definitely catch on. Please use it in some sentence, and forward to at least 3 friends – your luck will surely change…
On the south end of the park, we visited one of three groves of giant sequoias – the Mariposa Grove.

Giant Sequoias are the world's largest trees (in volume). They grow to an average height of 165-280 feet (50-85 meters) and 18-24 feet (6-8 meters) in diameter. They are native to the United States on the West Sierra mountains only and very few were ever cultivated outisde in the UK, Germany and such. Only the redwoods, that are also from the same family, are taller – and also can be found only in the United States. They are truly majestic beings – not only tall and wide, but they have a presence that creates an awe within anyone who sees them. We looked up with the other humans from across the entire globe, stricken by their size, magnificance and invisible aura. Jaws dropped, sighs were heard and necks were cracked.
Suddenly, a thought came into my mind - could this tree be a metaphor for the United States itself? Larger than life, towering over all the other trees, commanding the forest. Maybe simple, but it was somehow a given for me.
John Muir, an important environmentalist who helped save and create many natural areas including Yosemite wrote of the species in about 1870:

Do behold the King Sequoia! Behold! Behold! seems all I can say. Some time ago I left all for Sequoia and have been and am at his feet, fasting and praying for light, for is he not the greatest light in the woods, in the world? Where are such columns of sunshine, tangible, accessible, terrestrialized?

I can’t help again but equating some of this to what many who come to the United States feel about this country.
I later learned that with all of its majesty, the giant has surprisingly very shallow roots (about 3 feet or 1 meter deep). That’s as deep as my knee… and I lose my balance from time to time… Despite their shallow roots, sequoias are resistant to toppling because roots spread out over vast large areas - fanning out more than 150 feet (45 meters), providing a stable base to balance the massive trunk. The parallel continues…

After the first few trees in the parking area, we were walking a bit and reached the fallen monarch – a Sequia that fell down a few decades ago and is still there. Why did this giant fall?
The monarch was weakened by soil erosion, storm, and mutilation of its supporting roots by road builders, and it crashed to the ground under a heavy mantle of snow in the spring of 1927. After hundreds and hundreds of years it has been standing so majestically like its brethrens, it fell because modern life reached the park, after roads were built around it and destroyed its shallow roots. The metaphor is echoing in my head…

A sign next to the fallen giant said ‘Do not climb on tree’. A group of six young Italian men got there, who could have been characters in a movie making fun of Italians. Soccer jerseys, speaking loud Italian and smoking. They were just missing a pizza each to be stereotypical characters from a bad 80s movie. They of course quickly climbed all on the tree. After all, they might have not been able to read English. Mind you - ‘not’ is ‘non’ and ‘tree’ is ‘tri’ in Italian. You never know - maybe they assumed the sign was saying – ‘please, Italian soccer fans, climb on this dangerously-looking tree’!
They took pictures of themselves standing on the side of the tree - it could have been a caricature presenting how the Euro has won over the fallen American dollar…
A few months ago Newsweek magazine had a cover story based on a famous new book ‘The Post-American World’ with the back of the statue of liberty in the image. I looked at the fallen giant, and between the current chaotic American economy, the rising Chinese one, and overall war mess, I was thinking – are we witnessing the falling of a giant right now?
Which brings up an important philosophical question: If America falls in the forest, will the world hear it?
Or maybe there’s much time. After all, the oldest known Giant Sequoia, based on its ring count is 3,500 years old. Maybe America is one of those giants, and there are others few towering over the rest of the forest.

Much to think about. Or not… after all, these are trees, and United States is an actual nation and all. One might say these are slightly different things. Did I mention we got there at the end of a day after I was driving for about 6 hours, and that when we passed Fresno, it was 111 degrees faherenite (44 celsius)? I might have been a bit delirious, come to think of it…

Independence in America - OR An Office Birthday

So this week on July 4th, Americans will be celebrating that faithful day when the nation was founded back in Philadelphia (and not in Washington D.C., as most Americans mistakenly believe, which of course is impossible).

Americans buy a tremendous amount of fireworks - legally and illegally, from small ones that whistle like cute little birds, to large explosives that create medium-sized craters in Earth itself. This is of course different than most countries in the world, where you generally cannot buy from a store or a drifter in an intersection dynamite-based explosives. Well, except of maybe Iraq. Please note that in small and large cities across the entire country there are multiple firework displays throughout the July 4th night that are managed by professionals. But for Americans, that is not enough. They must celebrate freedom themselves. The freedom of not being able to name the 3 branches of government or their congressman, but still. All this is because for Americans, nothing means celebrating American independence like blowing up a small part of it.

And as birthday office-greetings in the United States go…
Hey, I’m so glad I ran into you here. Happy birthday, America! How old? 232?! You don’t look a day over 220…
So what are you doing this year? Oh, taking the day off – that’s great. Any big plans? Inviting any friends over? Oh, you’re not in speaking terms with most anymore after your last fight, huh? That’s a tough one…
Well, I’m sure Israel will come – she’s always desperate to be invited to any party. And Mexico will probably crash the party anyway – if you invite him or not. How about other neighbors? Canada maybe? Watching the hockey game, right… How about Zimbabwe? You both have so much in common – you don’t care about the constitution any longer and your money is worth crap now. How about UK? I know, it’s always awkward to have your in-laws there…

What? What happened? Why are you crying? That’s not true, you have many friends here… I don’t think everyone hates you… they’re just… a bit annoyed, you know?
You really want to know? Well, I guess it’s related to you fighting with others all the time. I mean – the fight you had with Iraq, since when? Your 227th birthday or something – do you even remember why it started? And you know that you always eat everything in the cafeteria and then just leave the garbage in your office? It stinks the whole building, and people are talking about that…
But I wouldn’t say hate. They still look up to you. They still try to be like you. You got the card, right? You see? We passed it around and most wanted to sign their name. Right – North Korea didn’t. That surprises you? He’ll probably throw a tantrum today too, just to get some of the attention.
Why don’t you go home early today to start the celebration already? You’re working more hours than anyone else here anyway. You deserve it. Go, drink something, maybe look at some pictures of your early years and think about how you got to here.

No, don’t go to the mall to buy something – that will cheer you up for a minute and you’ll regret it later – you can’t afford getting into more debt!
Ok, let me give you a hug. Here you go. Come later, we have a nice cake for you, with all the candles and funny toys at the top. Who made it? China. So yeah – I wouldn’t touch it unless you want some lead poisoning.

Naturally Blogging in America – OR, Why?

From as far back as I remember, which is weird as I’m not sure what I had to eat for lunch today, I had the impression that I would fit in in America – I felt closer to the philosophy, the liberal values, the chances, the sky (and therefore the limit). I’m not sure why – who does? And yet, I didn’t really become American by just landing in Boston. Not even close. I wasn’t exactly Israeli either - an immigrant, a foreigner; that floating existence between here and there. Locked between one world and another – just like Patrick Swayze in Ghost (only I still have a career).


That’s also the treatment I got. Unlike most Israelis, somehow when I speak English it doesn’t sound like I have marbles in my mouth. I do have an accent, but just not enough for anyone to recognize where I’m from. So I’m usually placed by Americans in that highly specific geographic region of the world – ‘the rest of the world’, or ‘not here’. In the past eight years I’ve been a Mexican, an Iraqi, a Russian, an Arab and many others - a true citizen of the world. A mild accent and not being completely white will do that to you. But thank God, or congress, my wife is a U.S. citizen and therefore I had the privilege of starting the process of becoming formally an American, what the powers call - naturalization. I don’t want to over stretch this now, but this is a process that puts the ‘tic’ in bureaucratic (one that is attached to one’s neck and sucks the blood directly and efficiently from the vein). This is a process that puts the preparation for the Apollo 11 mission to shame. Columbus reached America without a steamboat faster than this process. There’s a good chance that Haitians and Cubans who try to swim to the U.S. shore actually choose that option instead of going through this experience.


In the citizenship test, as part of the trial by fire initiation to become an American, the correct answers to the question: ‘Name some benefits of becoming an American’ are: ‘Travel with a U.S. passport’, ‘Obtaining government jobs’ and the ‘Ability to petition close family members to become U.S. citizens’. Well, I already had a passport, I never planned on ever becoming a cop or secretary of agriculture, and my mom is here a lot anyway. Conspicuously enough, voting and affecting the government is not listed as one of those benefits. Maybe this has to do with the 2000 elections – voting is not a benefit for any American.


There I was thinking: would that day of becoming formally a citizen make everything different? Would I become an average American all of a sudden? Would I start saying wrong things to my wife and buy flowers and jewelry to apologize for that? Would I feel different? Would I leave the swearing-in ceremony some 30 pounds heavier? Would I forget all geography? Or would baseball look so much better? All signs pointed to no. So the whole official process didn’t look promising – a passport wouldn’t have done it.


For years, I went through this vicious circle of hell of the formal naturalization. Fast forward (in warp speed), and finally in 2005 I became a formally naturalized U.S. citizen. But do I really feel natural here now? Is there another way to be part of it all? Do I need a secret password? Can I ever belong here? How do I get there? Can I get there from here? What’s with all the questions? And if Mickey’s a mouse and Pluto’s a dog, what is Goofy?


So why am I writing this? There were a few million other immigrants coming to the U.S. in the past few years, a few of them actually legal. Some of them not through tunnels, and a full dozen without bullets zooming over their ears by Southern Arizona self-proclaimed vigilantes. Couldn’t all they have written a blog about being in America? Why do I need the narcissistic potential attention of people peeking into my life? Well, for one, I am formally an American now, and as I don’t drive an SUV that sucks the life out of Earth itself, I need to do something to keep my natural citizen status alive. And secondly, I write this mostly for me, (considering the off-chance that anyone other than me actually ever reads this). Maybe I’ll never feel really totally natural. Maybe no person living outside the caves does. But maybe I’ll figure out if that’s possible at all.


So come with me on a magical journey across America (relax and don’t contact me about that - I don’t have any drugs!). In this journey we’ll explore the innate and learned cultural, psychological and anthropological differences between people around the world and how they compare to Americans. We will peel the layers of these differences to get closer to the core of the truth - that with all these differences, all people are the same – all people everywhere are hilariously ridiculous.