February 2000

It’s Adar (1) now, so be happy. And here’s a wee newsletter to bring you some cheer. (Half the cheer is because this newsletter is shorter than previous ones… but only a bit, so don’t get ecstatic.)

Attention! Present Arms! By the left, quick march! Left, right, left, right, left, right, left!
My first impressions of the army were drawn by my late father, Captain Isaacs, and unforgettable TV personalities such as Capt. Manwairing and the wild Welsh Sergeant Shut Up. No picture could be further from the reality of reserve duty in Israel. After recovering from 18 days, without respite, in uniform, patrolling the Jordanian border in sub-zero (and almost sub-human) conditions, up to my ankles in mud, I now have the peace of mind to update you on the latest civil and civilian goings on in the Elkana branch of the Isaacs family.
More Breaking News
You may recall from the last newsletter that Ari (almost 12) fell off a skateboard and broke his arm. He sported his plaster cast bravely for 3 weeks, and, as instructed, refrained (more or less) from playing physical games until two weeks after the plaster was removed.
Two weeks and one day after the plaster was removed, Ari was playing football (fair enough). He tripped, fell, stretched his arm out to cushion the fall, and broke his fall and his arm (in the same place) in a single swoop (not so fair).
Poor Ari. He bore the second plaster for a full month, and is under strict instructions not to play any games more physically demanding than Snap for 4 months. At a loss for an idea of a birthday present for him (he’ll be 12 on February 15), we asked Ari what he wanted. “An arm that doesn’t break” he answered.
Orly
Orly has reached that stage of life where she wants to appear older than she really is. One week after her 5th birthday she adamantly insisted on being 5 and a half. I noted many years ago that women are never happy with their age; they either wish to be older, or younger. It’s a logical necessity, therefore, that on one particular day in their life, women are happy with their age (although logical necessities were never something that any women I ever knew lived by). Anyway, to test my theory empirically, I am monitoring my daughter on a daily basis to ascertain when that Great Day is, and I plan on publishing my findings.
Boys have it so much easier, as Christopher Robin once noted:
But now that I’m six I’m as clever as clever
I think I’ll be six now for ever and ever.
Orly has developed a number of quite extraordinary talents that I have never had space to mention. For a start, she is a prolific artist. On arriving home from the office, I invariably find the floor of the house stacked with highly coloured, detailed and quite excellently executed drawings. I am normally presented with a particular autographed “oeuvre d’art” to decorate the once bare walls of my office. I’ve searched long and hard for artistic genes in either the Oberman or Isaacs family trees, and have come up with a total blank. Looks like Orly is establishing her imprint on the family DNA pattern.
Orly is also a singer. Unlike her brothers, whose ineptitude at all things musical is matched only by their disinterest, Orly sings along with TV program theme songs, and sings to us all the songs she learns at kindergarten.
But most impressive are her talents as a composer and lyricist. She just makes up songs – tune, words and all. It just comes to her naturally. In today’s jargon it would be called “Singing on Demand”. Off the cuff she gets the words to rhyme and make sense – which is more than can be said for most of the professional popular songwriters growing rich today on rock, rap, dance, trance, shmance and all that stuff. Judy captured one of Orly’s impromptu performances on video as she sang in the snow last week (the first snowfall in Elkana ever, I believe). You are all invited to come and watch the video, just to prove I’m not making this all up.
Orly has also started a jazz dance class, which she loves. At a recent open lesson for parents, we were quite amazed to discover how successfully she followed the instructions of the leader, as the class of 20 girls were taken through their paces. More rewarding than her footwork or twirls is the expression of bliss, joy and contentment that adorns Orly’s face, as she dances.
Naftali
Now here’s a tail with a twist, it turns out that Naftali (7) is a rubber man. His little joints can flex into positions that defy description. Not just almost perfect splits – forwards and sideways – Naftali can also wrap both feet around his neck, sit up from a Lotus position and “walk” on his knees, and perform other acrobatics more fitting to spineless creatures than to our headstrong child. (Maybe one of my kind readers can save me two minutes work. I’ve often wondered why the Hebrew word for the splits is “shpagat”, but never bothered to look it up in an etymological dictionary. Anyone know?)
The Younger Generation
The boys have accumulated a nice gang of friends with whom they play whatever is the current “in” game - Doom Troopers, Diablo and Sim City or whatever – all of which are beyond me. My common language with them still circulates around chess, jigsaws and football, which, while admittedly old-fashioned, have the undeniable advantage of being eternal. No child has yet said that it is “not the season” for chess, or football is a game that was played only in Windows 3.11.
As promised, I kept it short this time, although it was painful for me not to tell you about our day riding mountain bikes up and down the Carmel mountain and all sorts of other fun things. Promise not to be so brief next time.
Lots of Love
Michael, Judy
Ari, Elon, Naftali and Orli