Palestino-Ysrael

   A few days ago I watched an old Israeli movie about the 1982 Lebanon War called Cup Final. It is about an Israeli soldier that is captured by a rag tag team of Palestinians in the border region and about their journey to Beirut. The movie presents the case that the land is as important to Palestinians as it is to Jews and how they both want it but only one can have it. About a day later, as I was listening to Josephus War of the Jews about Roman destruction of Israel and renaming Israel it struck me that Jews of Israel have it all wrong. The Jewish contention that Palestinians are an invention and the Palestinian notion that Jews are foreigners and invaders are both wrong.
    In effect the two are the same people. The difference is that Palestinians are Israelis that became Muslims and Christians after the destruction of Israel. There are even genetic studies that prove this: The shared genetic heritage of Jews and Palestinians. And so what Jews must do is accept that some of us are not Jewish but also Christian and Muslim. That not all of us believe in god the same way and that actually, Muslim and Christians in Israel are closer to religious Jews than atheist Jews because they believe in the same god but practice the religion differently. Like me, they do not speak Hebrew, instead they speak Arabic and that makes them no different from me.
   Palestinians also just have to turn the idea a bit, that Jews from around the world are those who had left and now came back, that they are not invaders but their own stock that had left and is now back. They are non-Jewish Israelis and Israel is Palestine and they are Israelis because Palestine and Palestinians is the country and people renamed by Romans. Difference is that Jews never accepted this renaming and Palestinians did.
   So this is my hope, that this war between Cain and Abel ends, that the two realize that they are both from the same stock and Palestinians accept that they are in fact Israelis and Israelis accept the fact that Palestinians are not Arabs but middle-easterners just like they are and were simply converts to other religion. When the heritage of the two will be accepted by the two, when the two embrace their shared history. When the Palestinians realize that they were Jews and the Jews realize that Palestinians were Jews, that is when they will end the fighting for the land and accept that it is one country and one land and they are one people that pray to the same god but in a different way. When this happens, peace will happen, refugees will come back and a new Palestino-Ysrael will be formed.

Parenting: the only hard rules to it are the rules.

Blog Post about the rules of parenting.

It doesn't feel so long ago, when I was a child. In fact it was about half an hour ago when my parent scolded me for not turning off the lights.
I'm 31 and as a result of a chance meeting in Berlin, I may have a daughter in Sao Paulo Brazil, a beautiful baby girl. So now, even though I've yet to meet and hold her, I think all the time about what it means to be a father and all those movies and shows and comic sketches about kids, hit pretty hard home.
  So when I was nagged again as I rent out my house and my car, and crash at my parents guest room while taking a break from a ten year career in engineering, I thought about how they don't seem to get tired of nagging. At the same time I wondered how it is that I didn't get tired of their nagging either. That made me pause and think and  that is when I realized that I do; but there is a negative trade-off to doing what they want me to do.

   You see, my parents are well raised Russian-Jewish kids of doctors, managers and professors and they don't dole out congratulations for some petty accomplishments; compliments are reserved for special accomplishments and doing well is standard and mistakes are to be highlighted to be fixed. It of course never dawns on them that they require constant affirmation of their good parenting in form of "please, and thank you" but even though they have twenty years more life on me, my accomplishments for tasks entirely new to me no matter how young do not deserve any considerable praise whether it be tying my shoes, playing the piano or getting an A on a paper.
     So naturally, when I was young, it served me well to do as much misbehaving I could get away with that would get me attention but not get me grounded. You see, it is a simple mathematical formula: each time I screw up, they nag, which really meant they noticed me and I got attention. If I were to say finally put away the dishes after not putting them away for ten days, I would have gotten eleven comments from them culminating in a grand thank you at the end. Think about it, had I done dishes well the entire time, I would be neither seen nor heard, nor would would I get any acknowledgement at all for not leaving the dishes as that is the expected behavior.

   This game works well in their favor too. As a result of their upbringing, they are uncomfortable of giving praise, because they are not sure how to give it and they are afraid to give too high of praise for fear of risking a spoiled upbringing and too high of self-esteem. They don't know how to talk to me as by this point, I no longer trust their praise as I expect scolding and I wouldn't know what to do with a compliment. By this time I expect that I will screw up and that in general I am a pretty rotten person. I'm sure they don't think that, but given that that is the only thing I have heard from them my entire life, that is the impression of myself that I have. So without my constant mistakes and their constant nagging of those mistakes, they would have no way to talk to me.

   I have respect for my parents, the people that had to at some point wipe my ass, blow my nose and clean up my mess. I admit that no other adult had had to do that with me and so one must have respect for someone who put up with them and who fed them for no one else would give a crap. But that is the easy part, that is the non-psychological part, that is the non-interactive part. It's the part one can do without any attention or thinking like with a fish or a cat. The real parenting part is creation of a human, not an animal. Yet even there I am proven wrong. How often have I seen people give constant physical contact and dole out compliments to their dogs for the smallest accomplishments and then completely ignore their children for tasks no dog could ever do as if somehow dogs need affirmation but kids do not. Why does this not occur to more parents that the way to get dogs to be well behaved may be the same way to get kids to be well behaved?

 So parents out there that are afraid of spoiling your children, hear me on this, if you want kids that are neither seen nor heard, do yourself and them a huge favor, keep watch on them, talk to them and praise them, at least for a little while. Because when they are older, you'll have plenty of time ignore them and have time to yourself, plenty of time to not see them or hear them. But in the process of giving them this attention-you'll get to nag less and be happy more, and so will they, and they will thank you for it for the rest of their lives.

America, You're Funny: Funeral

At a party on a Friday in San Diego, a prominent architect, a rugby player by the name of Grahm "Basher" Downes had his head bashed in. A memorial service held for him on a Rugby field included beers and big breasted samba dancers. "A Celebration of a Life" they called it. One person after another went up to tell funny stories from bigger than life life of Grahm "Basher" Downes. One talked of how he interacted with Junior Seau, a locally famous football player. Another, his brother, about how he brought with him to Australia OMBAC team rugby hats and jerseys as gifts for his nephews who were expecting ipods and iphones. Beneath the harsh sun, jokes about poor sound, rugby and hot girls flowed like the beer.
This is when it dawned on me, only in America can you have beer and jokes after a tragic death. In Japan, crying women are hired to cry at the funeral. In Ukraine, as people cry they are sprayed with holy water so that just in case they are not crying enough, there is enough on their hair and clothes to drip all around. And in Palestine, a killer in the casket will be paraded around the streets with wails and cries of revenge and anger. But in California, people in flip flops and board shorts tell jokes and laughter and stories flow like the tears of Ukranians.
I guess I would understand this better if it were a death of an old person who lived out their life, or of someone who died of an incurable disease as it would be their time. Maybe even a car accident because somethings you just can't prevent. But when death is because of a fight, a tragic brutal murder, how can that be a joke and in any way time for celebration? I guess you can, but only in America. America, you're funny.