I'm Thinking About my Grandma

“It’s happened” popped up on the screen of my iphone.

There was no need for further explanation, with those 2 words I had been made aware that my grandmother was dead.

At the age of 90 she drifted off into the world beyond or the deep void of nothingness that awaits us all depending on what you believe.

Either way the woman who was once called Silvia Fisher is no more.

All that she was she has taken to her grave with her. Her quiet dignity, her ability to inspire love and respect from people with a mere look, her instinctive knack for diplomacy and her enduring need to set an example to those around her in how to behave.

She leaves behind a family who, without exception loved and adored her.

She has been on a steady decline for a year, perhaps more, the end, when it came was expected. Her kidneys had failed and the milligrams of morphine that drip, drip, dripped into her bloodstream were all that kept the pain bearable towards the end.

I tell you this because it astonishes me that in spite of the fact that I have had all of this information to hand for several weeks I still feel cheated by her loss. I still feel like the 32 years that I spent with her weren’t long enough and wish for more. To live to 90 years old is a great achievement in its own right and yet still it simply was not long enough.

As I write this my parents are burying my grandma in London, I sit here in a distant land paying the price for my choice to move away from all that I knew and was dear to me.

I knew that this is how it was going to be but knowing something and experiencing it are two different things. I was not prepared for this and I am not sure that one can prepare for such a thing.

I do know this much, I am not sad for Grandma because she is dead, I am sad for myself for the fact that I will never see her again. I am sad for the fact that I will never hear her voice and will never marvel at her ability to smile in the face of hardship.

My grandma lived the high life but she never allowed her situation to influence the way she thought of others. Her friends came from all backgrounds and cultures, she was a Lady who carried herself with dignity and grace wherever she went, she carried herself in the same way on her final trip. She told her family that her mother and long departed sister were in her hospital room ready to escort her to what lies beyond.

She kept them waiting for a while but it would have been rude to make them wait for too long.

Goodbye Silvia my grandma, you leave behind 13 people who wouldn’t exist had you never been here and many, many more whose lives are that much better for the fact that you were. I’ll miss you till I am with you.

Marc

New Look to the Blog

After hearing about some problems with the blog I have decided to make a simpler, more intuitive blog style. This should make it much easier both to navigate through Marc's Words as well as to comment.

It doesn't look as 'sexy' as the last design but it is a return to the classic look of a blog, I hope you like it.

Marc

Flame: world's most complex computer virus exposed - Telegraph

Flame: world's most complex computer virus exposed - Telegraph:

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The Anglo Oleh

With an average monthly salary of 7,000NIS and a passport that is guaranteed to have a door slammed shut in your face when you try to get into many countries around the world, a university system that means you actually have to study if you want to graduate and all of the other military, political and economic stuff, us anglo olim should count ourselves lucky for the things that we bring with us to the Holy Land rather than for the things that living here deprives us of.


But that is harsh, obviously I get it. The fact that the standard of living is generally lower, the prices are generally higher and the bureaucracy is very tough to negotiate, particularly for those of us who can’t speak the language, means that a good moan about our adopted homeland can do us proud. Don’t be shy, everyone else here loves a good moan too, the whole country were on the streets moaning this time last year, in fact I would go so far as to say that you can’t really be Israeli until you have at least considered packing it all in and moving overseas. Most people have for a while.

The things is this is a country of immigrants and a culture which is just a mish mash of a whole range of other cultures spanning the whole world. From Yemen to Russia to the USA and Ethiopia there are people living here from all over the world and all of us are bringing our own foibles, special dishes, skin colours types of Judaism (or not) and styles here with us in a desperate attempt to make it all work. You can’t speak Hebrew? Don’t worry, no one in this country can! Our venerable president to this very day still has a slight lilt to his own Ivrit and our Prime Minister spent his formative years growing up in Philly, his parents never came back!

When you’re feeling a bit alone and wondering what on earth you’re doing here feel free to look around at all the ‘real’ Israelis and remind yourself that you have far more in common with the founding fathers than they do. After all you came here out of choice, they are here by an accident of birth!

Actually don’t do that, they already know and the vast majority of these frustrating, prickly, incredibly wonderful people know that already and love you for it! To this day when I meet up with my army buddies I can’t persuade them to let me pay for anything, it seems that I will eternally be their lonely soldier and therefore have my drinks bought for me whenever I’m with them. Don’t tell me someone has never insisted that you came over to theirs for dinner? And don’t tell me that your Western sensibilities have never resulted in you turning down this offer for no reason other than your inability to believe that it was even made.

I first moved out here in 2001, finished the army in 2004, took an FZY Israel Tour around the country for a month (somehow passing myself off as the Israeli madrich) and then went back to London with my tail very much between my legs. I left because all my friends were still serving in the army (my service being shorter than theirs on account of my age), my lonely soldier’s room on kibbutz was no longer paid for by the army and in all honesty I had just had enough of the place. What made leaving worse was that I had been telling everyone that I was in the army and a Tzanhan to boot (that means Paratrooper in Hebrew don’t you know) I would then throw in a smug little “and I love it here I’m never leaving!” every time I spoke. Bugger, that was a bad move!

And there’s no shortage of smug olim out here, happy to “educate” newbies about what it means to truly be Israeli and to proudly show off about how long ago they came and how they’re still here. But that’s cool too, because it is tough here and if the only thing we have over our friends from the old country is the amount of time we’ve been living here, whilst they have the big house and expensive car(s) then I’ll take it.

The thing is though, it took me 3 years of being back in London to fully understand that there is no absolute need to be here, no compulsion. The real thing to do is live wherever makes you happy (how cliched was that? I know, I know). Don’t stay here just because you feel like you need to see something through or because you might feel the sting of failure for leaving and for God’s sake don’t stay because you’re worried that some smug tosser might come up to you and say “oh so you’re leaving? Well living here’s not for everyone”. Stay here for the intangible stuff, the really good stuff that you can feel all around you but that you can’t see.

Stay for the fact that we’re all in this together, not the Anglos but ALL of us (except maybe the Haredim, aw ok the Haredim too) we all have it tough here to varying degrees and we all love it too. The fact that in the summer (and if you’re from London in the winter) you can walk around without any need to be wearing an arctic warfare kit. Stay for the fact that on Yom Haatzmaut the streets are clear because everyone’s at the nearest BBQ, stay because here your religious holidays are national holidays and everyone celebrates them as one country even though we all may celebrate some of them differently. Stay for the fact that even in Tel Aviv no one drives on Yom Kippur. Stay for the amazing food, stay for the beautiful women, stay for Gay pride, stay for Jew pride, stay because people will happily shout at you for 10 minutes only to take a breath and invite you over for dinner right after you let them know that you’re a friend of Shlomy and for a million other reasons that a million other people can enlighten me to in the comments (please God let me have a lot of comments!)

And if you have to go back, or it doesn’t work, or you hate it here, then that’s cool too! The question I am asked more than any other is “why on earth did you come here?” And it’s a fair question, when I can’t answer it I’ll know it’s time to be on my way.

In short, complaining is fine people, so is accepting all that’s wrong with the country and loving it anyway.

No Hope in Shchunot HaTikva

And so it begins, the obvious slogans, the comparisons with Nazism and the proclamations against racism but does anyone actually want to look at the issue here?

The issue is not rioting nor is it racism. The issue is that this government simply doesn’t have a policy on illegal immigration and the people living in the poorest of poor areas of South Tel Aviv are the ones paying the price.

The residents of the HaTikvah neighbourhood have been screaming for years about the fact that the police have been shunting illegal immigrants away from the centre of the city, away from the eyes of tourists and into their low income, run down, neighbourhoods.

It was after Dan Kosky spent weeks on reserve duty in the desert picking up illegal immigrants that he began to understand the scale of the problem facing us. He noted his observations here for anyone who wanted to know the process that illegal immigrants go through upon arrival in the country. The observations come from the mouth of a soldier who was probably the first Israeli many illegal immigrants had ever set eyes on.

It is easy to feel sorry for people who have gone through unimaginable hardship in order to make it to the promised land in the hope of making a better life for themselves. The tortures endured by illegal immigrants are well documented and heart breaking and make it all the more inexcusable that the government have no discernible policy when it comes to dealing with them. The best we can do so far is build a big detention centre in the desert. This doesn’t constitute a policy, it constitutes a construction of dubious value and is certainly no replacement for making an actual policy decision.

The people of South Tel Aviv are more than angry, they are livid and frustrated and at their wits end. They are amongst the poorest of our society and the least listened to and they have nowhere else to go.  There is no excusing hate for its own sake, by the same token it is way too easy to dismiss this violence as racism and refuse to accept that there is a policy problem here that is fermenting racial hatred and violence. To make matters worse it is the very same Likud MKs who were whipping the crowd into a frenzy with disgusting statements like“the Sudanese are a cancer in our body” who are the very members of government that are responsible for the situation and who should be taking positive steps in order to relieve it.

So next time you are tempted to come out with a cliche about how Jews should be better than this or make a comparison between Jews and Nazis remember that unless you are watching your area change for the worse before your eyes and are utterly powerless to stop the police from actually keeping illegal immigrants penned into your area lest they be seen elsewhere, you might want to keep your mouth shut.

This demonstration is the result of frustration at inadequate governance and incredibly irresponsible grandstanding by MKs who should know better. It is time for Bibi to stop promising to do something and actually start listening to his citizens or there will no doubt be more violence in the neighbourhood of hope.

It's Millet Time

Sitting in a room full of people who hate and detest you isn't anyone's idea of fun and while it may not be Richard Millet's either it is something that he does regularly.

Richard attends anti Zionist events to film and photograph them, by doing so he presents a snapshot of a world that your average Jew will never see.

I don't necessarily agree with Richard's perspective but I have found it informative to read his blog, watch the videos that he has posted to youtube and see the photos of various events which fall under the anti Israel umbrella.

Though Richard films and photographs without causing any disruption to these events it is interesting to note that organisers often disrupt their own events in order to remove him from the room. Thus he succeeds not only in documenting that which anti Israel campaigners would rather he not see, but he also manages to impede their ability to hold events. Again, not necessarily something I support, everyone has right to free expression, but there is certainly an irony in the fact that the mere presence of an Israel advocate is enough to stop an entire meeting in its tracks as per the latest SOAS fiasco.

Perhaps Richard is the forerunner of an entirely new wave of pro-Israel advocacy. One that is much more confrontational in nature, that takes the questions right into the heart of the anti Zionist establishment and exposes what is going on under every nook and cranny.

He may even discover anti-Semitism hiding there somewhere...

Blogs to Follow

To all my fellow bloggers, I have just lost my list of blogs and have had to redo it.

If you have a blog that you would like me to add a link here to feel free to email me and I'll put it up

BBC News - Pakistan jails doctor who helped CIA find Bin Laden

You can't make this stuff up!

BBC News - Pakistan jails doctor who helped CIA find Bin Laden:

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Harry's Place » Iranian propaganda fakes Israeli passport… from Wikipedia

This is just astounding!

Harry's Place » Iranian propaganda fakes Israeli passport… from Wikipedia:

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The Funeral

I wrote this in 2008 and have just discovered it...

Standing in cold room with the wind howling and the sky outside grey we stood, it was the funeral of a man I had never met, I was amongst people I did not know. The prayers were read by a rabbi experienced at such things and the mourners dutifully murmured the Hebrew words written in the prayer book. The weather provided the necessary atmospher of grey light flooding in through the large windows built into the brickwork of the single building at the cemetary. There were three rabbis in attendance, perhaps a measure of the man that we had come to bury, the man I will never know.

When the mourners mutterings had subsided into the echoes emanating from the bare walls another rabbi took to the lectern to speak. The coffin of the man we had come to bury lay before him and the dead man's family off to his right, two sisters holding each other for support and their stoic mother next to them in a hat that covered most of her face.

The rabbi spoke towards the body which lay between himself and the majority of mourners. I stood before him, anonymous in the mass of people who had come to provide comfort when it was needed most. The eulogy was for a kind of man that I could never be. A man who enthused over all that lay before him, a man who cared for his community and acted for them often over his seventy odd years.

I grew envious of this dead man and the life he lived , six languages learned, a degree in medicine and dentistry, sailed around the world, motored around Europe. He studied the holy books of our shared religion, he loved, he cared for others and evidently was loved and cared for in equal measure. He gave of his time without any thought of return.

When the rabbi fell silent with no more words to speak the coffin was wheeled out towards the plot, the weather provided the ideal backdrop for a funeral, the wind attacked us and the grey skies illuminated little. We followed the body, a long procession of people talking amongst themselves in muted tones sharing stories of the man they knew, the man I will never meet.

I walked with others and spoke of inconsequential things with those around me until we arrived at the place. A space of dirt, an empty hole that marks the mans final resting place, no bigger or smaller or more interesting than that which awaits us all. The men moved towards the plot once the man was lowered into it, save for the Cohenim who cannot set foot on the burial site as is our custom.

I watched as one by one various suit clad men picked up a shovel and proceeded to bury the man while the grave diggers stood a respectable distance away. Some put in more earth some less with the shovel being stuck into the pile of dirt next to the grave rather than given to the next person again, as is the Jewish way. I took my turn and threw the dirt onto the grave, the coffin was no longer visible underneath all the dirt thrown on top of it.

It made me feel warm to know that when my time comes it will be my friends and family who bury me and accompany me to my final resting place. The man was popular and had been graced by many who had come to bid their final farewells to him. With the job done we returned to the chapel for concluding prayers which we deftly muttered before queuing up to pay respects to the family.

I knew that no words of mine were going to change the grief felt in the hearts of the man's family but I had to say something and so I muttered a couple of meaningless niceties before fighting my way through the grey British weather to my car which I entered as the first drops of rain fell.

Olim have a Right to Moan and to Complain About Other Olim Moaning | Marc Goldberg | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel

My take on a debate that may well have finished a week ago...

Olim have a Right to Moan and to Complain About Other Olim Moaning | Marc Goldberg | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel:

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Israel Hayom | The butterfly on the wall

Israel Hayom | The butterfly on the wall:

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The Next War will be at Sea

Israel’s receipt of the INS Tannin may be old news already but the constant friction on the waves are making headlines constantly. Most recently with the announcement that the Azeri State Oil Company, SOCAR, has gained a 5% stake in the Med Ashdod field which sits 16km off the Southern coast of Israel. This is as perfect a case of linkage between 2 supposedly unconnected events as can be imagined. The Sunday Times reported in February that Azerbaijan, with its porous border with Iran, is an important staging ground for the Mossad and vital for the espionage activities that they conduct in Iran. The term quid pro quo comes to mind.

At first glance the decision to integrate 5 and probably 6 Dolphin class submarines into the Navy may seem wasteful in terms of resources. With a roughly $500 million price tag on each boat one could easily argue that the cash strapped navy could use the money elsewhere. However the strategic importance that the Eastern Mediterranean now has for Israel means that the role of the Israeli Navy now goes far beyond safeguarding the coastline.

While all of the talk with regards to the new Israeli subs is of a second strike capability and Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD) there are other factors at play that are receiving less attention.

The discovery of oil and natural gas in the Tamar and Leviathan fields which lie 80 and 130 kms off the coast of Haifa changed the game in the Eastern Med. Being within reach of the Turkish Navy, no longer any friend of Israel’s, and the terror of Hezbollah these fields pose as large a risk as they do opportunity. The collapse of the Turkish Israeli alliance and the end of the Mubarak regime in Egypt ensure that Israel is now faced with the possibility that the 2 strongest navies in the Med (besides theirs) threatening Israeli control of these fields.

Against these 2 navies the Dolphin subs would come in very handy indeed. Especially considering the relative vulnerability of surface vessels. In 2006 a Hezbollah anti ship missile scored a direct hit against the INS Hanit, an Israeli Navy corvette, killing 4 crewmen and causing substantial damage. If a terrorist group are capable of causing such devastation to our most modern surface vessels then imagine what a nation state with far greater resources could achieve. In that environment having the most effective and quietest subs in the region could be a game changer without any suggestion of them having to use the doomsday option. The diesel-electric engines on the subs make them quieter than nuclear powered subs such as those used by the United States.

Each of the subs has 4, 650mm torpedo tubes and 6, 533mm tubes. In addition to being able to launch nuclear missiles these tubes can be used to launch something far less conventional, people. Naval commandoes can exit the subs through these larger tubes on the way to carry out sabotage missions in enemy territory. It is known that the Shayatet 13 unit has a unit responsible for attacking enemy shipping in their home waters and these are perfect for just such operations. It has also been speculated that Mossad agents could use the subs to infiltrate into enemy countries the same way.

Economics and politics go hand in hand with war, the discovery of the Leviathan and Tamar fields have affected the first 2 factors to make the third that much more likely. The Israeli Navy was once the lesser of the 3 arms of the IDF but now, with the oil fields on the way to being exploited to ever greater effect the Israeli Navy is the natural protector of Israel’s strategic interests and needs to be equipped in order to be up to the job. The Dolphin submarines are just the beginning, Unmanned Surface Vehicles are being trialled and more vessels are on the way. The Israeli Navy is the service of Israel’s future and the sea, especially what lies beneath it, the next battlefield.

The Death Knell of the Social Justice Movement | Marc Goldberg | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel

The Death Knell of the Social Justice Movement | Marc Goldberg | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel:

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I'm Thinking About my Dad

When my Dad was my age he was married with 2 kids as well as a house that he owned and a business all of his own.

It was while sitting with a friend who was commemorating 25 years since the passing of his own father that I thought of my Dad and wondered, not for the first time, what he thinks when he looks at his 3 boys.

My Dad has faced a unique set of challenges from each of his 3 sons and he has borne each of them with the same steadfastness with which he has faced every obstacle in his life. He had, and still has, high hopes for each of us and yet is able to allow us to fail in our own endeavours while standing ready to pick us up when we fall.

He knows instinctively which of our ideas are good and which are bad yet he stands on the sidelines and allows us to fail on our own terms, while all the time offering advice that is unheeded and help when it becomes all too necessary, how he does it I don't know.

I call him and I tell him I need money and he finds it within himself to simply send it to me rather than to lecture me on how hard the times are for him right now. I ask for help and he gives it to me when what he wants to do is shake me and tell me to stop whining, I still don't know how he manages it.

Every evening my Dad takes solace with a glass of whisky and his guitar. Every day he plays the blues and every day his family tells him to stop practising his art, (the noise infuriates them) and yet they have failed to recognise the fundamental lesson to be learned even from his hobby. He spends every day practising at something in order to improve, unlike so many he has the staying power and the dedication.

He works hard to get good at something, he is no academic but when faced with professional examinations he insists upon himself that he study in order to pass them. He is the man that I look to more than any other to find the right path in life, he is the one who shows me the way, he is my Dad.

The Haredi way of Life is Over | Marc Goldberg | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel

The Haredi way of Life is Over | Marc Goldberg | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel:

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The Haredi way of Life is Over | Marc Goldberg | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel

The Haredi way of Life is Over | Marc Goldberg | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel:

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Hemingway and Kafka

These 2 men, they didn't just write it they lived it.
They lived their own stories and their stories were their own lives.

Hemingway, the man who carried the wounded off the battlefields of WWI and Kafka, who forced himself through the existence of the bureaucrat, who insisted upon his soul that he make good through means other than  those that drove him only to die without ever feeling the approval of others.

The one who was married 4 times before blowing his own head off in Idaho with a 12 gauge shotgun and the other who never made it to the alter before dying at the age of 40, an unknown man who had nothing more than an instinct to write his heart out into whatever happened to be nearby.

These 2 men, these 2 men.

They did it all and they really had their souls behind it, one living the life, the other writing for no reason other than what lay within.

Everyone knows their names and some know their books but how many know how they really lived? Putting their souls on the line in a vain attempt to convince the world of their greatness Kafka died never knowing that there would eventually be an international hunt for every scrap of paper he ever wrote on....what made him do it? Hemingway who was awarded the most prestigious prize in the world for literature and yet who still felt the need to end his life with buckshot rather than old age.

Hemingway who insisted on carrying a stretcher on the Italian front, who was in Spain during the Civil War, who was present during the liberation of Paris and who lived for the hunt would have done enough without writing the books so what made him do it?

Neither of them ever had a choice any more than they chose to breathe. But what does this mean for me?

As I agonise through every moment and every word, as I anguish through my life and my book, as I watch these 2 men, both exactly the same in no identifiable way save for the fact that their words changed the world and not necessarily the world they lived in.

From diaries to blogs and from correspondents to...

I have been drinking a little less lately though the world seems more scary, more for its lack of danger

How many times have I wished that

It doesn't seem to matter whether the words are good or bad, whether I am appreciated or not, whether I have any talent at all, who am I next to these 2 men yet there they stand before me calling me to them, Kafka and Hemingway the 2 tiny giants of their times and mine.

Life isn't fair, one took the easy way out and the other was taken out easily, how will I go? And who will I be once I am gone?

Curb My Enthusiasm

While using the cash point the other day I noticed a whole bunch of dodgy people hanging around but thought nothing of it. then I saw online that immediately after withdrawing 200NIS I then, supposedly, withdrew 2,500NIS moments later.

Since yesterday was Shabbat and everything was closed I had to wait until today to call the bank and tell them about it. They promptly told me that I would have to go to my branch and deal with it from there, which was perfect since today is the first day of my brand new job.

So instead of meeting my new boss for a nice little get to know each other sesh while on the way to work I was calling him at 07:30 in the morning and telling him that instead I had to go to the bank and deal with this.

He was cool and told me to do what I had to do so I trotted off to the bank and was there by 08:20, unfortunately the bank didn't open till 08:30 so I planted myself on a bench facing the door next to another guy who was also clearly waiting for the bank to open.

While sitting on this bench others turned up for the opening of the bank. Naturally that's fine but I noticed that people were standing closer to the door than I was, when the door was unlocked they would get in before me despite the fact that I was there first and that just wouldn't be fair.

The morning heat was just getting going and I could feel a trickle of sweat begin it's journey towards my trousers at the base of my neck. I looked the new arrivals over coolly as I plotted my next move.

A plump, middle aged woman turned up and looked me and my bench buddy up and down before calmly positioning herself next to a tree that stood closer to the door than my bench...that cunning bitch! She couldn't resist darting a furtive glance in my direction and I saw the glimmer of a smile on her all too fleshy face.

Naturally I had to guard my turf and left my bench behind and, as casually as one can, without making any sudden moves I sidled forward a metre or so for no apparent reason. To make my point clear I fired a cheeky grin right into her general direction, she turned away a moment too late to avoid it and I knew she knew.

She looked at me again and looked away again, she knew what I was doing and I knew she knew but she couldn't admit that she knew or that would have meant doing something about it and what could she possibly have done?

It was 08:26 and I could see people moving around in there, C'mon, C'mon didn't he know that there was a war going on out here?

The security guard came to the door key in hand and unlocked it.

I couldn't believe it, an Israeli bank was opening early! But no, actually a member of staff squeezed his way out and the guard promptly locked the door, it was 08:28.

An old man with trousers pulled up to his armpits and ears bigger than Yoda's promptly arrived and stood so close to the door that his breath left condensation on the glass.

And with that the wise man of Bank Hapoalim had defeated me!

Oh and of course the bank couldn't help me with my problem till tomorrow...of course!

Tackle Pulmonary Hypertension in Israel

I have just heard about an amazing charity working hard here in Israel working to combat Pulmonary Hypertension.

Yarid Shira has already raised 123,000NIS and is looking to raise more.

Now they are holding a cocktail evening complete with a raffle to raise money and awareness to combat this debilitating condition.

The cocktail party is on May 28th and tickets are available for 180NIS or 300NIS for couples please find the text of the invitation below:


Dear friend,


Last year marked the first annual Yarid Shira event.


With your help, a total of 123,000 NIS was collected for the purchase of 6 mobile oxygen generators, enabling patients with Pulmonary Hypertension to more easily leave their homes. 


This was a very impressive accomplishment and your support and generosity were most appreciated. However, there is still much to be done to assist those suffering from PH. This year’s goal is to translate, publish, and distribute the Hebrew version of the American “PH All-Inclusive Survival Guide” to educate patients, medical staff, and caregivers. With that goal in mind, we are planning another exciting event which we hope you will also support.


This year, Yarid Shira and the Israel PH Association are proud to host a Gala Cocktail Evening in Shira’s memory. Please join us at 7:30 pm on Monday, May 28th, 2012, at the Migo event hall at 15 Ha’Taasia Street Ra'anana, for an enjoyable and memorable evening of entertainment, cocktails, food, and fun.
Tickets to the Gala cocktail event are now available at 180 NIS per person and 300 NIS per couple. Both include one free raffle entry which will give you a chance to win one of many wonderful prizes.
Additional raffle tickets are available for 25 NIS each or 5 for 100 NIS.


Call: Sevonne Eliyahu Keil 050-333-8552 or Meira Farber 054-777-1316 for more details


or email yaridshira@gmail.com

The Genius of Likud | Marc Goldberg | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel

The Genius of Likud | Marc Goldberg | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel:

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