Jewish Apartments & Services is
pleased to announce the honorees for
THE 2004 EIGHT OVER EIGHTY SENIOR
ADULT JEWISH HALL OF FAME:
Holiday Amok
On Israel Independence Day, a father fights against
fear — and shaving cream.
Alfred D. Bricker
Nena Dillick
Jack Caminker
BRIAN BLUM
Jewish Telegraphic Agency
Jerusalem
IV
Julius Harwood
Sylvia and Harry Granader
Belmont
Kershenbaum
hen did Yom
HaAtzmaut, Israel
Independence Day, get so
violent?
I'm not talking about the heightened
security alerts aimed at stopping suicide
bombers, which have become even more
prevalent in recent weeks. No, the vio-
lence I'm talking about is a matter of
shaving cream. Shaving cream in the
hands of babes, that is.
I'm talking about pre-teens brandish-
ing oversized cans with super-strength
nozzles, ready to fire upon any unsus-
pecting bystander. .
Yes, this is the new tradition of Yom
HaAtzmaut in Israel. Never mind the
barbecues in the forests or the patriotic
sing-along evenings. For many years
now, the best-known custom of the holi-
day has not been what you do with your
buddies, but what you do to them.
It actually started a while back with
plastic hammers, which were used for
bonking people on the head. In the late
1980s, the hammers were supplemented
and eventually replaced by silly string.
But how did it evolve into shaving
cream — or snow, as it's known in
Hebrew?
It does make a sort of logical sense, I
suppose: Letting loose with a can of
snow is a form of release. As at Purim,
it's a way momentarily to block out the
reality of what type of neighborhood we
really live in.
Still, there is something distressing
about the way the kids target the lesser-
abled among their peers.
Bea Sacks
Phyllis Newman
Sunday, May 16
Inside Handelman Hall at the Jewish Community Center
6600 W. Maple Rd. on the Eugene and Marsha Applebaum
Jewish Community Campus in West Bloomfield
Open to the public.
11:00 Brunch $65,
by Unique Restaurant Corporation, reserved seating.
12:00 Induction Ceremony- No charge (donations accepted)
no reserved seating.
Master of Ceremonies: Alan Muskovitz
from the Dick Purtan show, oldies 104.3 WOMC.
Mistress of Ceremonies: Sherry Margolis from WJBK Fox 2 News.
All the funds raised at the Eight Over Eighty event go
directly to provide food for.JAS residents with incomes
below the federal poverty level.
Battleground
In our neighborhood, ground zero is the
local school playground. Unfortunately,
that's also where our synagogue tradi-
tionally has held its annual
Independence Day prayer service. We
went last year, and all three of our kids
got sprayed. All three departed in tears. I
swore I would not return.
But thy wife Jody wanted to go. The
prayers on Yom HaAtzmaut are mean-
For Information/advertising opportunities contact JAS Marketing
Director Pete Wurdock: 248.592.1101 • Pwurdock@Jasmi.org
To reserve a seat for brunch or to charge by phone: 248.592.1102
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ingful to her, she says. I can appreciate
that — but not at risk of life; limb and
permanent clothing stains.
So Jody went, and I felt guilty. A half
hour or so into my grandstand at home,
I called down to my 12-year-old Amir
— who took the brunt of the spray last
year and also refused to go back — and
told him I was having second thoughts.
Maybe it will be better this year, I sug-
gested.
I proposed we go for a walk. We
would explore the neighborhood, which
seemed like a patriotic act for
Independence Day: Just walk and talk.
And talk we did, about the nature of
freedom. How proud we were that our
small little country was now pushing
middle age.
As I suspected — and, I admit it, I
planned — our route took us in the
direction of the battlefield — er, the
school playground. The scene was famil-
iar from the year before: Dozens of ven-
dors were set up outside selling spray
cans. There were glow-in-the-dark
brands, too, and cotton candy and pop-
corn by the bag. A real carnival atmos-
phere.
We entered the school yard. So far so
good. No major incursion by spray can-
wielding ruffians. Our tension lifted a
bit. But it was too soon. A jet stream of
cream whizzed past us and landed splat
in the hair of an innocent little girl.
Well, not so innocent: She fired back.
It didn't take long. Before we knew it,
the basketball court was covered in
white. Out of the corner of my eye, I
saw Amir take a hit. His first reaction
was rage, then anguish. He turned and
ran to the gate, past the vendors hawk-
ing the tools of his defeat, down the
street and eventually up the stairs to our
apartment.
Then we smiled at each other and
laughed out loud at the absurdity of it
all. A holiday commemorating what it
means to be free had imprisoned us in
our home. Here we were, quaking in
fear at what was _probably no more
than a couple of seriously hyperactive
kids with non-toxic shaving cream.
We resolved to get back into the fray
and show our neighbors, our fellow
countrymen, what stuff we were made
of. We would not be intimidated. We
would not be cowed. Yes, that's exactly
what we would do. Next year. ❑