....August 19, 2:31 PM
 
 
   
A Belated Birthday Wish For My Daughter

By MICHAEL SCHENKLER

I grew up in another time.

The world was not safe back then.

We constantly lived with the threat of war.

We were taught to be afraid of Russia and the evil Communist Empire behind the “Iron Curtain.”

In school, Shelter Drills were as common as Fire Drills. We would get under our desks and cover our heads to protect ourselves from an attack from the air. We would sit in the hallway away from windows so that the shattering glass from the bomb blasts wouldn’t hurt us.

Those who were most afraid – or best prepared – built underground shelters to flee to, live in and survive just in case of the worst-case scenario.

We were a nation at war – a Cold War.

Nary a shot was fired. I can’t recall a life being lost. As far as wars go, the Cold War was a fizzle.

Sure there were the moments. There was Nikita Khrushchev flipping out at the UN pounding his shoe on the desk. There was his memorable threat: “We will bury you!” Sure there was the Cuban Missile Crisis where President Kennedy stared down a Soviet attempt to bring missiles just 90 miles from our shore. There was the U2 incident when an American spy plane was downed behind the Curtain and pilot Gary Powers taken prisoner.

There was espionage. There were agents, double agents and guys who presumably “led three lives.” There were movies and television shows.

They were scary times. We were at war.

Then the decades-long face off of the world’s two great superpowers ended. The iron curtain fell. The Soviet Union broke up. In Germany, they tore down “that wall.” They deposed the despots. Countries changed names.

Democracy broke out.

And just like that, the Cold War was over.

We were left as the only world’s great superpower.

The arms race was over.

Peace broke out.

And slowly we realized that the world was different. We were raising our children not to live in fear. We were giving to them the gift of peace.

I remember it well.

My daughter was born on July 27, 1989. The Iron Curtain was clearly no longer iron. Mikhail Gorbachev’s perestroika was infectious. The “evil empire” was disintegrating and by October of that year, the Eastern Bloc stopped blocking. People began to move freely and by the end of November of 1989, the Berlin War – the symbol of the iron curtain since the end of the World War – came down. East met West in peace.

My daughter and her generation were to grow up in a world I never knew — a world which would study war no more.

And then, shortly after her 12th birthday on Sept. 11, 2001, I revisited that thought.

And now just a short while after her 17th birthday – right after the arrest of some two dozen apparently fanatical Muslims planning to use liquid explosives on flights from Great Britain to the United States, and in the middle of the war between Israel and Hezbollah – I realize her world, her generation’s world, is the one filled with fear.

Being the world’s great superpower has not done much for us. The Iron Curtain was a symbolic enemy that didn’t fire guns. National or ideological pride was not enough to cause death.

Today there is more.

In the name of religion, my little girl’s world is a dangerous one. People are dying. People are killing themselves. People are killing others. Fanatical Islamic terrorists have changed the paradigm of war.

And we do not know how to fight back.

Our government is less able to protect our citizens today, than any other time in my life.

What will be our legacy to the children?

It is time for a change.

Michael Schenkler can be reached via this contact form.

 
 
Daily Life In Israel’s Southern Border Communities

Sergey Kadinsky, a Forest Hills resident, on the Gaza border of Israel -- note smoke in the background -- , is a journalism student at City College, practicing journalism for a pro-Israel organization.
By SERGEY KADINSKY

(Israel, 07/18/2006) “History is being made, and I am here to document the unfolding events.” This is how I responded to the concerns of my family in Forest Hills while I was living in Jerusalem for the past two months working for The Israel Project, an organization that works closely with journalists in helping make coverage of Israel more accurate. This is done by providing journalists with tours, fact sheets, and interviews with residents of Israeli border communities. Following the escalation of hostilities on the northern border, I helped connect Russian-speaking residents of these communities with Russian journalists. I also wrote fact sheets detailing the history of these communities, including their distance from the Lebanese border, number of casualties, population, history, and holy sites.

With the outbreak of a two-front war against Israel, I knew that the worst possible thing to do was to stay silent, or to flee. As an American student living in Jerusalem, I had to make a statement of solidarity with the defenders of Israeli frontier communities.

This includes not only the soldiers, but also the residents. By building their homes in places such as Sderot and Shaar Hanegev, they continue to secure the state of Israel through their undeniable presence. Unlike the so-called settlers of the West Bank, their presence is internationally recognized as justified. In all of these communities, I was told stories of how the residents attempted to extend a hand of friendship to their neighbors, only to be answered by the total rejection of their existence. In all these communities, the ability to literally touch the physical borders of Gaza and Lebanon were memorable. On one side, a thriving community that continues to grow in spite of the bombings; while on the other, the result of terrorist regimes paint a landscape of devastation.

School teacher Atara Orenbach was raised in a religious family, and holds strong claims to the land of Israel, but instead of the controversial settlements, she chose this poor development town in the Negev Desert as an alternative. “This too is part of Israel,” Orenbach stated. This claim goes hand in hand with a sense of purpose. Sderot needed teachers who spoke English and who can teach computer science and Orenbach filled this niche. Within feet of rooftops damaged by Qassam rockets, new construction continues to make its impact on the skyline. Since the escalation of hostilities, her daughter has refused to shower alone; for fear that a rocket may pierce through the bathroom.

Shaar Hanegev city manager Eliyahu Segal wishes that his job would be about attracting new residents and developing the local infrastructure, but as a result of Hamas, the top concern is responding to security concern. Though the Shaar Hanegev Regional Council is home to only 6,000 permanent residents, when counting workers and students, the number rises to 250,000. Sapir College alone has 7,500 students. Looking to Gaza as a neighbor, Segal points out that prior to the Intifada, he had been in close contact with his counterparts in Gaza City, and that Sapir College included a number of students from Gaza City. According to Segal, the Israeli withdrawal from Gaza in 2005 was justified by demographics, where more than a million Arabs lived alongside 8,000 Israeli settlers. “Their rate of reproduction is great, this is the reality,” Segal states.

On the Erez Checkpoint, a series of guard posts, walls, and parking facilities were built to expect a large flow of trade. With the exception of smoke across the wall, and occasional bombs dropping, the crossing was all but empty and silent. Large trucks carrying humanitarian aid were the only traffic on the road. Traveling with me was the former managing editor of the Jerusalem Post, Calev ben David, who described his connection to the region. “When I served in Gaza, I also reached the conclusion that we have no business there, surrounded by a million hostile Arabs,” ben David recalls. At the same time, he understands the strong response against Hamas’ campaign of Kassam attacks, “my son attends a summer camp that is within the range of the Kassams. As a parent, I support Israel’s right to defend itself.” Ben David immigrated to Israel from Brooklyn almost 20 years ago.

Alongside the tragic circumstances in Gaza, where residents had to choose between a terrorist and a corrupt government, life on the Israeli side cautiously continues, with the tenacity to no longer retreat, but to resist by continuing to grow crops, attend summer camps, and settle in these frontier communities. Under normal circumstances, there should be no fear in living near national borders.

Residents of Detroit have every right to live across the river from Canada; as do residents of El Paso in full view of their Mexican neighbors. Unfortunately, for the residents of Sderot and Shaar Hanegev, the notion of not being able to live within their own national borders is very real. In a country the size of New Jersey, surrounded by much larger neighbors, every community is a frontier community. Until the people of Gaza and Lebanon begin to recognize these communities as neighbors rather than enemies, the borders will remain delineated by walls, forts, and military bases.

Not4Publication.com by Dom Nunziato
Michael Schenkler can be reached via this contact form.