#one of my friends is interested in learning yiddish and asks me questions about it and i have to constantly remind myself that its Not Bad

[andromerot]

need a support group for girls who were told their interests were stupid and to talk about other things so much during their childhood and preadolescence they now cannot even mention something they're interested in without feeling deeply intrusive and annoying

[evilelitest2]

Background on Ukraine/Russia, Introduction

So let me ask you a question, to be honest, how many of you had heard of Ukraine before February of 2022?  The invasion of Ukraine is a very good example of why history is important. On February 23rd your view of the future was one way, and then boom, suddenly your entire world is upside down due to the invasion of a nation you had never heard of.  So lets try to correct that, together we are going to go on a comically dismal adventure into Eastern European history, it has Mongolian invaders, vikings, genocide, drinking contests, Yiddish humor, more genocide, increasingly esoteric arguments about maps, and genocides.   History is fun kids. 

Who is this for?  I want this to be for curious people who aren’t necessarily experts in history, but have an interest in history and want to be informed global citizens.  This isn’t written for people with PHDs in Eastern European studies, nothing I cover here is going to be more advanced than a basic college class (though it might be an Eastern European college class).   This is laymen’s history, history, if you want a more indepth expert understanding of the conflict you can do far far better than me friend.

So let’s talk about the question of delicious, delicious bias.  There is a school of thought that historians are supposed to present all things without any opinions, just reciting facts without calling in any judgment.  This is a school of thought held by liars, because nobody actually doesn’t make value judgements in how they view history, and I don’t want to insult your intelligence by assuming false neutrality.  I am going to present the facts and I am going to piss off a lot of people, but you should know from the outset that I think Russia’s invasion is an example of imperialism and every democratic nation should be invested in seeing Russia defeated.   That being said, I intend to cover up nobody’s dirty laundry, so if you expected to get through this without learning about what Ukraine’s partisans were up to in WWII, you should find a different show.  I firmly believe that atrocities are bad even when done using buzzwords I like.  Russian and Ukrainian nationalists are going to find these videos plenty uncomfortable, but don’t worry, the capitalists, communists, tsarists, liberals, and even anarchists are going to have their day in court as it were.  Though it shouldn’t need to be said, the Nazis were the worst of the lot.  

TLDR, I think genocide is bad, thats my bias.  

Ok, so the other accusation that is going to be thrown at me is that I’m anti Russia, that by reporting Russian history without the assumption Russia is god’s protagonist, I am letting slip my secret Russaphilic desires brought on by anti Russian racism.  So let's put this out in the open, I have…absolutely no family connection to Ukraine.  I have some Russian cousins by marriage but no familiar connection to Russia, as far as I know my family has no direct ties to eastern Europe.  That being said, I am in my personal life, an obnoxious Russophile.  I love the Russian language, I like Russian culture, I read Russian literature, listen to Russian music, watch Russian movies, fail to play Russian video games, admire Russian paintings and compose sad monologues about the futility of the human utopian experience in my downtime.  I actually know very little about Ukrainian day to day culture, I know the history but I haven’t seen any Ukrainian movies.  This isn’t a deliberate malicious choice, it’s just that being an empire does wonders for advertising. Hell I even…think that Kiev sounds better than Kyiv (cue booing) yeah yeah I know, it just sounds cooler I’m sorry, I don’t think Russia deserves to take your nation because of it, please don’t hurt me. 

So if I, Russian weeaboo par excellence, am able to admit that Russia’s invasion is unjustified and is the product of centuries of imperialism, then maybe thinking that isn’t part of a secret anti Russian agenda, but maybe you can like Russian culture and still think genocide is wrong.  Israel, take notes.  

Alright, i'm going to be posting these for awhile now, its gonna be fun

[softpine]

the rest of the oc questions + a couple anons! 💖

18. Describe your character through a Brooklyn 99 gif or line.

“No, no, no, I don’t mess with computers, OK? Ever since I died of dysentery on the Oregon Trail, I was like, no thank you. I’m done with this.”

45. Star Sign?

he’s an aries (april 19th) and that’s all i can say about his chart because i know nothing about astrology fjksjd

@blackvswhiteonly thank you for asking! 💖

13. Describe your character's typical wardrobe for the regular day.

he’s veryyy basic lmao, usually just a simple hoodie, jeans, and vans! recently he’s been Spicing It Up with a beanie fjkjsd and he might experiment with his style more in college!

16. What do they look for in a friend? A love interest? +  35. What attracts your character to another person?

the first thing he notices about people are their eyes, and i don’t mean the color of them or anything, i mean how naturally kind or curious or shifty they look; he loves someone that can hold eye contact (he would not like me lol). when it comes to friendship, he definitely likes to keep his group small and close, only trusting people he knows will be there to stay. he loves anyone he can talk to without being made fun of (tom makes jokes, but he’s good at gauging the mood correctly & never going too far). in terms of romance, he’s still learning a lot about himself and what he wants out of a relationship, especially after how things ended with iris, but he knows he wants to be with someone who trusts him and supports him while also encouraging him to be honest like iris did. if he didn’t have someone pushing him to talk, he probably just.. wouldn’t. and he knows that, so he’s trying to work on it!

21. What would be one item that they would hate to lose most?

probably his high school football jersey. now that he finished his last season, all he has are the memories, and football contributed to some of the best moments in his life ;-;

@llama-head lmaooo i can’t imagine anyone punching asa in the face either, but he would absolutely just curl up in a ball and play dead 😭 he would never try to fight back and he’s not fast or agile enough to run away very easily. he would just let it happen, my poor baby :( also if finn saw that happen?? .... i think we all know how that would turn out skdjsk

@petrichorandasphault​ thanks for asking!! 🥺

16. What do they look for in a friend? A love interest?

(or in the case of her wife, both... fjkjsd) she loves people who push her out of her comfort zone without making her feel uncomfortable. people who make her feel safe and supported and who want to see her grow!

18. Describe your character through a Brooklyn 99 gif or line.

"Cruise itineraries, hot off the laminator! Who's ready for some nonstop, totally scheduled fun?”

@forgetfulcj aw damn i’ve never read harry potter & i disagree with the author’s morals, so i don’t think i can answer this one 😭 thank you for showing interest though!!

ahh rip i know it’s long and the beginning is boring/bad looking, but ultimately it’s a linear story so you can’t start anywhere except the beginning or you’ll be confused :( you can probably get away with starting on page 25 i suppose, if you look at the family tree & character page for help. all the info is here! sorry again that i can’t help more, i wish i had a better alternative but i’ve been on simblr for 3 years, it can’t really be helped :/

omg that’s so cool!! is it pronounced the same way? i’m always curious about the translation of names specifically; there are so many names with origins that i would have never guessed! also good luck with your yiddish! that’s awesome that you’re learning that

[imaginesbymk]

“Sweet as Cherry Pie.”

Peaky Blinders One Shot

Summary: Y/n is Alfie Solomons’ younger sister who comes to Camden town & Small Heath. Why? She’s their secret weapon: sassy, unpredictable and insults their enemies to filth. Or maybe she’s just bored and needed the first enemy she sees to throw a comment at. Either way, Alfie couldn’t ask for a better sister.

Pairing: ---

Tags: swearing, mentions of violence, weapons, drug & alcohol use, smoking + s4 spoilers

Word Count: 1755 words

Author’s Note: sksmsksks this is based off a dream i had one night. it isn’t the best piece i’ve written but i love a sassy reader. one shots are not open, this is just a one shot for my 800 follower special - [milestone masterlist]

“GOOD MORNING, Alfie.” Tommy said, walking down the distillery. Well, it wasn’t that much of a good morning for Tommy, really. In fact, even though he’s very productive and professional most times, this time the man wished he was back in bed where he could be exposed in his shirtless self, waking up to see his boy with that bright smile, sharing his eyes. 

Normally, he’d be drowning in family meetings back in Small Heath, but the atmosphere in Camden town begged to differ.

“Meh, not really,” Alfie Solomons glances up at the window- the dusty, stained window pane gave in the overcast weather. He turns back to Tommy. “Mate, I’m glad we’re right on schedule. I was starting to think you got shot in your own fucking office chair back home.”

Tommy stared at the Jewish-English man, knowing Alfie was from Camden Town, how outsiders would speak ill of such towns and vice versa.

Alfie shuffles over using his cane as support and hands Tommy the tickets. “Those are the tickets to the boxing match. And in that storage unit behind you is the gateway to the clouds.”

“Kind of you. But you know I have booze at home, stored neatly and safely. I can manage without your rum.” Tommy walked in, anyway.

“I’m not giving you my rum for free, Tommy. I’m not even selling it to you,” Tommy watched as Alfie made his way to the other room of his bakery, ready to check on the AM workers as they got to work right away.

Tommy read the front labels of the bottle he picked up from one of the barrels. This man has gone a long way in his business, he couldn’t deny that. Over a hundred barrels have been shipped to God knows how many speakeasies were in Europe and America, and when Alfie Solomons received his earnings, he holds it tightly and proudly, guarding it as he cherishes his success.

Taking a bottle wouldn’t hurt, it would please him knowing he is interested in buying his product. He could even smell it from the sealed caps. He could smell it from the barrels, residue on the floor, or even from one of the workers’ breaths. He could pop it open and take a quick sniff like playing in snow. Tommy dug in his coat pockets, pulling out a stack.

“Oh, so you are fucking loaded.” Tommy whipped around, his gun already pulled from his holster, gripped and pointed to the voice inches behind him. 

The person- the woman, didn’t react, not a small gasp at the sight of the barrel of the gun nearing her face. Boldly enough, she reached over and grabbed the stack of cash from Tommy’s hand and walked away, not even remotely thinking if the man she startled would pull the trigger with her back turned. 

“Thanks, Mr. Shelby. And Alfie thanks you!” the female voice calls out.

Con artist? Someone posing as a worker? An enemy? Tommy breathed heavily, swearing left and right in his mind that he could of at least stopped whoever that was from taking his money, or yelled at her the way he usually does to anyone who worked for him because he was the boss. He was loaded, but no one would just allow someone to take a loan like that without anything afterwards, unless they were a clerk in a bank robbery.

After feeling like he was glued to the floor in that tiny space, Tommy rushed out to find Alfie back in his office with his glasses on his face, jotting notes down on a piece of paper, noticing the stack of cash sitting near the cup holder.

“Who the fuck just walked inside that storage unit and grabbed the stash right out my fucking hands?”

Tommy’s outburst of his question didn’t send Alfie into a panic. “You mean my dearest sister y/n?” Alfie got up from his seat. “She gave me the cash so I didn’t have to do it, but she didn’t even bid me a goodbye afterwards. She just plopped it on my desk and went her way. It’s not like I died or anything. I’m not fucking invisible, Tommy. You can see me, right?” 

Tommy let out a long sigh, dreading that there’s not one but two migraine-stirring bastards named Solomons, it’s enough for one he already wishes to throw a beer bottle at some times, but now another one probably much worse than if described. “You have a sister, Alfie? You never said anything about having a sister.”

“Yeah. But don’t worry, she’s sweet as cherry pie,” Alfie nods. “I brought her here, but she’s pretty homesick, so I would bid her warm welcomes if I were you.”

“Why should I?” Tommy says, frowning. “She just took my fucking money.”

“Oh, for sure.” Alfie waves the loan in front of Tommy, reminding him that y/n is no thief. “And because she knows about the vendetta between you, the Peakys and the Italians. If they come to her, she’ll roar at them, literally.”

“WHO the fuck is this, now?” Arthur stared at the woman stood next to Tommy at the foot of the small dining room where old memories held of their past meetings and heartbreaks.

“This is Y/n Solomons. She’s our messenger.” Tommy wished he never had to say that. He wished she would stop touching his fucking stuff, too. “Y/n, put down my fucking frame.”

“Oh fuck,” Polly blew out smoke from her cigarette. “There’s two of them?”

“And what is wrong with my brother?” Y/n places the frame back down on the mantel. “He’s a successful businessman. He beat a man three fucking times his size to gravel after he called me fat.”

“Y/n Solomons is our messenger. She’s also helping with updates from Aberama Gold once we get Michael out of Birmingham for now, because Luca Changretta is still out there, and he’s fucking pissed.”

“You can very hot headed sometimes, Mr. Shelby.” Later the brief introduction of their newcomer in their recent meeting was long over, she stayed back even though she was dismissed to do her work. “It’s probably because you smoke so much cigarettes that you’re starting to look like an ashtray, or of that heavy out-dated coat you wear all the time just weighs you down that your back and shoulders must hurt like hell.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Tommy said, irritated by her presence, even her just standing there at the table.

“Nothing.” Y/n sighs and heads out the door. “You know where I’ll be!” she calls.

Sweet as cherry pie, my ass. Tommy grunts and lights a cigarette.

“WHAT’S the matter?” Luca Changretta asks. “I said we had a deal.”

“Ah, you just made a deal without negotiation, now did ya?” Y/n’s brother sat on the chair, staring up at the menacing mobster holding one of the rum bottles given as a gift. “Yeah, Tommy Shelby was right about you. You plan to kill us all.” He spoke in Yiddish, and he mocks a tsking sound.

Luca smirks down, even though he didn’t know what he said, at least they both were aware of one thing; Tommy knows what kind of man I am.

“Mr. Changretta, may I speak freely?” y/n chimes in.

The Italian shrugs. “Mr. Solomons, I checked my calendar earlier and I did not read anything about today being Take Your Kid to Work Day,” and he laughs, his cousin as his henchman behind laughing along with him.

“Mate, I’d choose my next words very carefully if I were you,” Alfie says, stifling a smile. “This is my baby sister you’re talking down to, and she won’t tolerate one bit of it.”

“And I should be afraid?”

“Perhaps less afraid, more self-conscious, Mr. Changretta,” y/n replies. “Just a few minutes ago I was sensing the stench of failure, but then I saw you and your men walk in.”

Luca chuckles sarcastically. “Ouch.”

“And it’s not like we’re having a showdown right here, you didn’t need to bring your men with you unless you’re doubling their pay for just standing silently. I mean, they’re as important as Tommy Shelby’s evening sous chef.”

“Who?” Alfie had to ask.

Y/n smirks. “Exactly. Anyways, I just need to tell you that my brother’s business isn’t for sale. Alfie has worked hard and I’m proud to be his sister, supporting him. I’ll drink his rum like it’s mother’s milk if I had to. So, let my brother handle your men at the match, and you’ll take care of the two hundred barrels to be shipped to New York. Simple.”

“What do you know about business, Miss Solomons?”

“What do you know about combat, Luca? If you didn’t lack the experience, Tommy Shelby’s blood would spill fresh on your hands as we speak. How are you a soldier for the mafia if you hadn’t accomplish the vendetta yet?”

“Well-”

“Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll fall asleep.” Y/n took a step forward, lowering her smile up as his height overpowered hers. “My brother isn’t asking for much. He’s a good friend of Tommy Shelby, yet he’s helping you. You should be kissing his feet, Mr. Changretta, not abusing his generosity.”

Luca chewed the matchstick in his mouth. “Is that so?” he looks back at his men. “Porca puttana.”

“Vaffanculo, right back at you, mate. You just earned yourself another tonne to your bill. Bring tissues for both your lawyer and accountant.” Y/n turns around and grins at her older brother, who smiled warmly at her the entire time, feeling as though he was proud. If the Peaky Blinders were here, they’d share the same reaction as Luca. 

“So you both know Italian?” Luca asked as he sighs in exhaustion.

Alfie nods at Luca, who was glaring down at him for an answer. You learn from your older sibling, you become as tough as bullets and the big help as the messenger, sending a telephone call or a letter mailed to Small Heath, saying Luca Changretta is six feet tall, but shrunk four feet down when y/n opened her mouth. 

“Take it or leave it, Signore.” The Italians didn’t even need to ask where this woman got her attitude from. If you’re a Solomon, there’s perks. Y/n smiles to herself, Tommy is gonna hate and love me.

“I warned you about my baby sister, mate.” Alfie says. “Sweet as cherry pie... but with broken glass once you bite into your first slice.”

—

tag list: @ladyxblake @lotsoffandomimagines @amirahiddleston @thethyri @woahitslucyylu @myriadimagines @fangirlsarah16 @your-pixels-are-showing @lucillethings @sirkekselord @kaetastic

[aceofthyme]

Cadmium orange, titans and emerald green for the watercolor asks!

Cadmium Orange: What do you like to do on your days off? It's rare that I get a day off, alas, but when I get the chance I like to grab a friend and go to a museum! I also enjoy going to farms to pick berries or do some work. Beyond that, I like going through old records (surprise surprise!). Usually, if I get a day off, I'll use that to go through any of the non-English records I come across because it takes me longer to work through those (most recently, I've been working through some Latin and Dutch things). I'll also work on my novel, or perhaps bake something!

Titans: Do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings? Probably the latter at the moment! I'll make some tea (or, if it's cooler out and I have all my spices, glühwein) and curl up with a book or my writing drafts. It's always nice to take a bit of time to relax and all before bed.

Emerald Green: Do you speak any languages besides English? Are there any additional languages you want to learn? Gotta say I love this question, I actually have a whole list of languages I want to learn! I'm sorry in advance for the essay, though, this is...going to be long.

At the moment, I speak English and fluent Hebrew. I have personally questioned my being labeled fluent, as I'm never quite certain what defines fluency, but I can read and write and speak and I've been studying it for thirteen years so take that as you will. I am also learning Scottish Gaelic at the moment, and I intend to start Gaeilge (Irish) lessons again once I have the time. In addition, I am re-studying Latin, learning Yiddish, and working on my German and French at the moment.

I have a personal goal to learn all the languages I can confirm my ancestors spoke, which is...admittedly a rather long list. I'm starting with the more recent ones, so to speak, which would be Yiddish and Flemish + Dutch. They were lost in the sense that they were never passed down, which makes me rather sad, and I would like to be able to not only speak them but learn to read them so I can properly go through old family letters—of which there are many! My maternal great-grandfather (who came from Belgium) was apparently well-versed in several languages, as he used to travel a bit around Europe as a child (his grandparents were involved in the selling of livestock) and was by all accounts a rather brilliant person, and according to family lore it was in part his knowledge of languages that let him get into the States; when he went before the board of inspectors—who intended to send him back, partially because of his age and the fact that nobody was there to pick him up and confirm he had a place to go—, they noted that he seemed educated and he promptly thanked each man in their own native tongue. There are quite a few stories in that vein about him, and I personally think this one is quite cool—the sort of linguistics thing I could only dream about doing, hah!

Anyway, aside from what's mentioned above, my short list of languages to learn includes relearning Russian (I used to speak a bit, but lost it all) and learning the following: Danish, Welsh, Romanian, Lithuanian, Latvian, Norwegian, Swedish, Finnish, and Spanish. I'm also interested in Ge'ez, although I don't know what all resources are available, and Ladino. I've covered a bit of both in my Hebrew classes, but I would be interested in learning more!

[enkelimagnus]

History

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2375 words, rated T

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 4 The Whole World is Watching

Bucky and Zemo find themselves talking about Sokovia, about family, and about where they come from.

TW: antisemitism mention

Read on AO3

Part 29 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

--------------

"Were there Jews in Sokovia?"

Zemo came back to himself an hour or two ago. He’s resting now, a damp towel on what must be a pounding headache. If Walker had been a supersoldier, Zemo would be dead. The shield, sent flying like that by someone on the serum would have broken his neck with the force of its slamming into his temple.

He wouldn’t be laying there, drinking glass after glass of something probably not recommended for someone with a concussion. He’s dosed himself on painkillers as well. Hopefully, he won’t die before the Dora Milaje arrive. If he died under Bucky’s watch, he doesn’t think he would ever be forgiven.

Bucky’s been staring at the windows for a while now, just… waiting for Zemo to start talking again. He grew bored of it. Even if the windows are beautiful and make him lose time in memories of his childhood shul and on the necklaces they all wore.

"It was an Eastern European country. Of course there were,” Zemo answers in that almost amused matter-of-fact tone of his. The same kind he used when he talked about Marvin Gaye. Now Bucky gets Sam’s “He’s out of line, but he’s right.” His voice is hoarse though, a clear sign of what he’s just gone through. Bucky finds himself slightly satisfied by that crack.

"Where was your family from?" Zemo asks. Perhaps it’s the same sort of question that led to that conversation in the plane. Bucky didn’t need to tell him he was Jewish after that.

"Romania."

Zemo nods quietly. "Ah. Not far, actually. Is that why you found a hiding place there before I flushed you out?"

That’s an interesting question, and Bucky shouldn’t be surprised he’s asking it.

"Not really." He didn’t know his family was Romanian until a couple of months in, until a mother’s lullaby triggered an avalanche of memories. “Followed some memories there.”

“What did they do? Your parents?”

Bucky huffs and turns towards him. “Why do you want to know?” He asks, jutting out his chin. He doesn’t know if he wants to talk to Zemo about that. But Zemo’s the only one who has ever asked. Steve didn’t need to. And no one else has spent long enough with Bucky to wonder.

“I am curious,” Zemo shrugged. “This is not a trick. I have nothing to gain by having this information. Your parents are dead. They cannot be used as leverage.”

“You sure know a lot about leverage, huh Zemo?” His answer is sarcastic, poking. The ghost of the tension from earlier in the day, the one that made Bucky let go of his tight leash of control to break one of Zemo’s expensive cups, hovers between them for a moment.

“I am a criminal,” Zemo hums. “A killer. And a Baron. Of course, I know a lot about leverage, James.”

At least he doesn’t hide from the truth. Bucky guesses that those eight years in solitary gave him time to self-reflect.

They both fall silent for a moment again. Zemo sips his whiskey. Bucky wishes he could get drunk. The minutes tick by. The Dora Milaje could come any time now. It’s hanging in the air with the tension, with the silence.

“You didn’t answer my question, James,” the man’s voice comes from the couch where he’s lounging. “What did they do?”

“My da worked in a journal in Romania. A Yiddishe one,” Bucky explains. “Worked in a printing factory in America. My ma helped sell the papers on the market. When she moved here and had us, she didn’t start working again until everything crashed and da died. I was working, but it wasn’t enough. We were four kids, and there was Steve, and his ma too, until she passed.”

He stops talking. He’s saying too much. Way too much. Zemo doesn’t need to know those things, he shouldn’t be talking about those things. It’s too personal, too intimate. Even Hydra didn’t know. Why is he telling Zemo?

Because Zemo’s going to the Raft. He’s going to be buried there and never come out, and he won’t be able to tell anyone. You could tell him what Steve tasted like, he wouldn’t be able to talk.

“What did your parents do?” Bucky asks, turning the question back on Zemo. It’s not the same, of course not. Bucky’s pretty sure he could find all the information about Heinrich Zemo readily available online.

“My father was a Baron and a businessman,” Zemo replies anyway, evenly. “He was also a sitting member of Hydra’s European branch.”

Bucky’s eyes snap to Zemo. He can’t see him, only the back of his head. Is he smug? Is he happy he got to push one of Bucky’s buttons this way?

“You didn’t meet him, I believe,” Zemo continues. “At least as far as I am aware.”

Bucky doesn’t reply. What is there to say, thanks?

“My mother was a housewife. She was a Baroness. She did charity events, talked to people, was beautiful at my father’s side. That was what they did. As for myself, I was, as you know, in the army. Before my service, however, I studied in Oxford, Philosophy, Politics and Economics, before interning in Berlin for two years. Only then, after much partying and drinking, did I settle and join the ranks.”

Bucky leans against the counter, huffing. “You wanna talk about yourself a bunch today, don’t you?”

“I was going to follow that with a question on your own Curriculum Vitae, James.”

“Why? Wanna hire me?”

Zemo chuckles, a puffy sound immediately followed by a sharp intake of breath. Pain, perhaps. That’ll teach him.

“Humor me?” he asks and for some reason, Bucky shrugs and decides to do so.

“Top student in Washington High School until ‘33, graduated early, started working. Making girls’ dresses. Working on the docs in the evening too,” Bucky recounts, sighing softly. “Got drafted. Deployed in ‘43. The rest you know.”

“No college despite being a so-called top student?” Zemo asks. Bucky can feel the airquotes in his voice.

Bucky huffs loudly. “We didn’t have that kind of money. We could have, without the crash. Could have gotten a scholarship, but it wasn’t… Da passed, and I had to make sure there was food on the table.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sure you’d be able to afford some sort of degree now.”

“Not an option.”

He’s not going to start explaining all the way Hydra fucked him up, how his attention span is shorter than it’s ever been except when a mission is involved, how his brain flips through languages constantly. How he would have issues handling the workload, the students around him. Crowded lecture halls would be terrible for his brain.

He doesn’t know what he wants to do after this.

Maybe just read books and go on runs and eat kugel and drink vodka. Those sound like good things to do.

"I saw Sokovia fall," Bucky says after a moment. "I was in Austria."

Zemo’s curious loose attitude shifts as Bucky says that.

“It made a big cloud,” Bucky keeps going. He doesn’t know why. “I barely had my mind, but I knew what I was seeing was world-ending. Catastrophic. Horrifying.”

“I was in Novi Grad for a chunk of the battle, before the city rose. And then I ordered my unit to run. To save their families if they could.” Zemo’s voice is quiet, tight with horrible grief. It’s been nine years and it’s still intense. Bucky guesses he hasn’t had anyone to talk about it with. It’s strange that it’s with him. “I was on the road to my father’s property when the city fell. Chunks of it fell around me, like terrible lethal snow.”

Bucky understands that. He remembers days on the front line in France, where the bombs falling from the sky almost looked like rain until they hit the ground and exploded and killed. Sometimes, at night, the lights in the sky were painfully beautiful.

“I have German citizenship, because of my mother’s own German citizenship. My father insisted I claim it, so I interned at the Bundestag for a couple of years in my twenties. Perhaps he was a visionary, perhaps he knew that one day Sokovia would come to fall and I wouldn’t be able to be Sokovian anymore. It’s strange.” He hums. “To know I do not have a home anymore.” There’s a pause. “Do you know what that feels like?” Zemo adds after a moment.

Bucky hums. “Borders change, political regimes fall. By all accounts, I’m American, but I spent more time in my life speaking Russian than I did speaking English. And yet, the Soviet Union has been gone for over thirty years. And I only learned that ten years ago. The America I grew up in is gone, too. So… I’m nothing. I’m nowhere.”

“Do you know what the strangest part of all of this is, James?” Zemo asks. “Sokovia is gone. In dust. There are no places I can go that still look the same as they once did. There are no buildings still standing. Their stones will one day be in museums, without context. It’s like it never existed, really. Memories are good, but they only last one lifetime, if that long.”

“In a hundred years, those memories will be gone,” Bucky finishes for him.

Zemo finishes his glass. “I’m the King of Sokovia,” he says then, and Bucky immediately wonders if they shouldn’t try to seek some sort of medical assistance.

“I’m royalty. The last living royal of Sokovia. I’m the King,” he explains. “King of ash, King of a memorial. King of the dead.”

“Yeah, I doubt Wanda Maximoff would accept you as King,” Bucky quips, and Zemo chuckles.

“Ah, the Maximoff girl,” he mutters. “Do you know just how many times her head was in the visor of my rifle?” He asks, and Bucky can hear the smirk, the predator’s grin in his voice. “When I was with EKO Scorpion, watching her and her anarchist friends… Do you know how many times I could have killed her?”

“Why didn’t you? Bucky asks with genuine curiosity.

“She wasn’t dangerous then. She was just a girl, an idealistic teenager. She hadn’t met Hydra yet. I had no reason to end her life.”

He shifts on the couch, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from God knows where on his person. He tosses it over to him. Bucky catches them, and the following lighter. He doesn’t ask why Zemo doesn’t take one. They’re cheap, from a Slavic brand. The tobacco blend is familiar to Bucky. His handlers used to smoke it.

The lighter is familiar too, a Zippo. It clicks and sounds like the hundreds of thousands Bucky has heard in his life.

“The Maximoffs were Sokovian Jews,” Zemo says after Bucky pulls the preliminary drag of his cigarette. White plumes wave over his face for a moment. “Wanda and Pietro wore the marks of their heritage for years on the front lines of their revolution.”

Bucky frowns a little. “I don’t remember it from the images, afterwards.”

“I can only guess they took it off when they joined Hydra,” Zemo points out. Bucky takes a hard long drag and the taste is like a ghost of Soviet pride. “Von Strucker was an antisemite.”

Bucky chuckles at that. Of course he was. “What a surprise,” he mutters sarcastically.

“He was not one of the hidden ones either,” Zemo points out. “He was quite loud about his opinions when he believed himself in the right circles.”

“You sure seem to know a lot about von Strucker’s views, Zemo,” Bucky says quietly.

“He was a Baron of Sokovia too. I saw him several times a year, for official occasions of the royalty, and informal meetings at my family’s estate for most of my life. He and I were not that far apart in age, I must admit we shared toys once upon a time, in palaces like the one Karli and her friends now occupy.”

The world is small, especially the kind of world Hydra, the Soldier and the Avengers lived in. Bucky doesn’t exactly believe that he never met Zemo’s father. He doesn’t know if he would remember it if he had. Unless he was given the man’s name in some way, he probably was nothing but another higher up, another possible handler, another persona had to obey.

“So your government knew Hydra was in Sokovia?” Bucky asks, pulling more on his cigarette, trying to parse out a timeline of events.

“The government was Hydra,” Zemo replies, his voice heavy. “It had been for decades. Truth is, I never knew Sokovia without Hydra encroaching on it like a tumor.”

Bucky shifts, humming quietly. Zemo’s hatred of Hydra is surprising now that he knows his father was. “Why aren’t you Hydra, then? If your family was?”

Zemo shrugs. He has that sharp intake of breath again, probably accompanied by a wince.

“When the main Hydra branch fell, in 2014, I was only 35,” he mutters. “I was getting invited to the parties, of course, as the heir of the Baron, but… I guess I was too green for these people. Contrary to Wolfgang, I didn’t share a lot of their ideals. Perhaps I did, as a youth, believe some of their lies… It is impossible not to take in some of your parents’ philosophy.”

Bucky huffs, shaking his head. “So what? You met a poor Jew once and it changed you?” He asks sarcastically.

Zemo shakes his head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you. I don’t believe it was a singular event.”

He wouldn’t be the first rich kid to find some cause to care about as a rebellion from the parental authority. Bucky doesn’t say anything more about that. It’s not good to dwell on these things. What is going to come from confronting it anyway?

“Either way, let’s both be thankful I am not Hydra, yes?” Zemo shifts, standing back up slightly, to rest in a better direction.

Yeah. Let’s be thankful.

Sam comes in then with his computer and Bucky takes the opportunity to see himself in the bathroom, thinking everything over.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Dawn in Your Eyes Part 22

Summary: Alfie has little to no idea why Caroline ever gave him the time of day. The blind woman seemed far too sensible to even speak to him. But soon he finds himself falling helplessly in love.

Part 22: Alfie finds fatherhood fulfilling but a disagreement arises between him and Caroline. 

         “Carrie, Tommy’s here!” Alfie called. He let the curtain fall back in place and went to the front door.

           Tommy stepped out of his luxury car and nodded. “Alfie.” He greeted in his usual, curt fashion.

           “Tommy, mate, you find it alright?” Alfie asked, grabbing Apollo’s collar as he attempted to dash by. Still young, but practically the size of a miniature pony, the mastiff could come off aggressive to strangers, but he really was just trying to greet them affectionately. He just didn’t understand how big he was sometimes.

           Cyril plodded over and lowered his head for Tommy to pat, knowing how to correctly get attention from a visitor.  

           “I’ve learned to navigate these country roads a bit better.” Tommy nodded and gave Cyril a scratch behind the ears.

           “They all look the fucking same, mate. Not like the city, nah.” Alfie reined Apollo back into the house. “C’mere, you big oaf.”

           Caroline greeted them in the foyer with Chava in her arms. “Tommy, I hope you’re well.”

           “Mrs. Solomons.” He shrugged off his coat and cap and let one of the maids take them. “I’ve been alright, can’t complain.”

           Tommy’s visit was initially meant to be purely based on business, just a quick meeting and that was that. But when Caroline heard he was dropping in; she urged her husband to invite the Brummie to dinner. Alfie said unequivocally, no. Caroline argued that she never had the opportunity to thank Tommy for saving their lives. Alfie said he’d thanked him plenty of times. More than once, and that was rare for him. But she herself hadn’t thanked him and that simply would not do.

           So, Alfie begrudgingly invited Tommy to dinner, and to his surprise, the Blinder accepted.

           “This is the little one then, aye?” Tommy smiled at the toddler.

           “This is Chava.” Caroline beamed with pride.

           “Hello, Chava. What is she, six months now?”

           “No mate, it’s Chava.” Alfie corrected.

           Tommy frowned. “That’s what I said, Alfie.”

           “S’a different sound. Ch. Comes from the back of your throat. It’s Yiddish.”

           “Alfie, it’s alright.” Caroline cut in before they had to really introduce Tommy to a different pronunciation. “She’ll be eight months next week.” She changed the conversation for the benefit of everyone.

           “Time passes quickly with them doesn’t it? Charlie outgrows everything in just a couple of days it seems.”

           Caroline sighed and set Chava down. “She has taken on quite the personality. I blame her father for that.”

           Alfie chuckled and shrugged. “Eh, you married me.”

           His wife couldn’t help but smile.

           One of the maids, Laura came into the foyer. “Dinner will be ready soon. Would you like a drink, Mr. Shelby?”

           “Tommy, mate, we’ve got whiskey if you’re interested. Think it’s Irish. Got gin too.” Alfie offered.

           “Whiskey’s fine.” He nodded.

           “Laura, will you grab the bottle to make sure it’s Irish. And take Chava to Candace.”

           “Of course, Mr. Solomons.” Laura picked up Chava and brought her upstairs.

           “We can go to the dining room.” Alfie offered linked arms with Caroline to bring her to the dining room. “I tell ya, Tommy, s’not fucking easy to get used to this place. Figure you’d get it, growing up dirt poor then moving into a fucking castle. Get lost sometimes, Carrie’s even better at finding her way ‘round.”

           Caroline smiled and squeezed her husband’s arm almost as a thanks for being so hospitable toward Tommy.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Toward the end of the night, Caroline excused herself to nurse Chava while Alfie showed Tommy out.

           The Blinder struck up a cigarette as he walked out to his car. He hadn’t smoke in the house as he’d gotten a dirty look from Alfie when he pulled out his cigarette tin.

           The two stopped on the steps for a moment. The sun had set and crickets had started to chirp in the bushes and grass.

           “You have a lovely wife, Alfie,” Tommy remarked.

           “You say that like it’s a fucking surprise.”

           He snorted and shook his head. “Not at all.”

           Alfie crossed his arms over his chest and kicked a bit of gravel off the steps. “You wouldn’t be wrong in thinking that. I mean you can see, she’s a gift from God, ain’t she? Not really a match made in heaven though, with someone like me.”

           Tommy exhaled a breath of smoke and shrugged. “I try not to question how things happen. She came into your life, you got married, you had a child, if that wasn’t meant to happen then it wouldn’t happen, aye? He tapped a bit of ash off the end of his cigarette. “You two make a good pair in my opinion.”

           It was strange, to say the least. The two hadn’t really talked as friends before. But there had been a significant change in their dynamic after Tommy had stepped in to help find Caroline. And now that they were both fathers there was somewhat of an understanding between the two. Maybe the fact that neither of them was heartless. They had enough love in their life to care for a child. They both could understand the struggles of their occupation and being a father while in that position.

           Alfie felt he could never fully trust the man, but that was usually the case for a lot of people.

           “Well, I appreciate it,” Alfie said, feeling like he was wading through very strange territory. Being polite and cordial with Tommy was very new to him.

           “Thank you for having me over for dinner.” He replied. “See you soon, Alfie.”

           “Yeah, mate, see you soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           When Caroline became sick, Alfie had to stay home from work to take care of her and Chava. Well, technically he didn’t have to. They had more than enough help at Letwin, he just felt the need to be home.

           Of course, he called in a doctor to make sure Caroline would be alright. But the doctor assured him that she didn’t have a fever and it was nothing more than a common cold. So, while Caroline rested in bed, Alfie watched after their daughter.

           Chava was nearly two-years-old and it was nearly impossible to understand how fast she’d grown in seemingly no time at all. She was walking and running like a tiny little adult. And she’d begun to talk as well.

           Alfie had been hoping that maybe she would say ‘dada’ first. But Caroline took home the prize when Chava said ‘mama’. He couldn’t blame her, his wife was amazing. And the look on Caroline’s face when she heard her daughter speak for the first time was priceless.

           So maybe he’d be the runner up. Dada seemed like a natural succession to mama. But instead, Chava began addressing Cyril as ‘Cee’. Alfie swore the bullmastiff looked smug about it too.

           Caroline wouldn’t tell him, but she had heard her husband trying desperately to get his daughter to say his name.

           “Dada, Chava. Can you say that, aye?”

           “Mama.”

           “Yes, yes, mum’s great ain’t she? I bet she’d love if you could say dada.”

           “Mmmm.”

           “Daaaadaaa.”

           Caroline held a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggle at hearing him babble like a child.

           “Mama.”

           “See that’s half right, innit? Very smart, you are. But you’ve gotta replace the m. Dada, yeah?”

           Chava giggled. “Mama!” She said even louder.

           Alfie chuckled. “Well, see now you’re just tryna pull me leg, ain’t ya? Cheeky girl.”

           Eventually, she learned the word, and Alfie was overjoyed. He told everyone in Camden Town. His daughter was smart as could be, much smarter than most fifteen-month-olds.

           Still, there was nothing better than spending quality time with her. Much better than bragging about her.

~~~~~~~~~

           While Caroline was recovering, Alfie took Chava out in the garden. His wife usually did every day so he wanted to keep up the routine. And it was nothing more than a delight to watch her toddle about.

           “Dada.” She pointed to the flowers, tugging on his hand.

           “Yeah, love, I see ‘em. Pretty huh?” He had to stoop down a bit so she could hold his hand as they walked. “See those huh, lavender?” He knelt down to show her. “Those are your mother’s favorite flower. Loves the smell of them.”

           Chava reached out to tug one of the purple flowers off the stem and examine it.

           “Smell good?”

           She just giggled and held it out to Alfie.

           “Well, that’s kind of you.” He smiled and took it, tucking it in one of his buttonholes.

           Chava let go of his hand and wandered a couple of yards away. He stood and followed after her, watching her curiously explore. She reached back into the garden and grabbed at a rose bush.

           Alfie couldn’t react fast enough. She began to cry when a thorn stuck the palm of her hand.

           “Oh, oh, love, c’mere.” He knelt down and took her hand in his. The thorn hadn’t stayed in her skin, staying on the stem instead. But there was a small prick of blood forming and Chava was devastated.

           Sobbing, she stomped her feet and waved her hand. “Ow!”

           “I know, it’s bugger, innit?” Alfie tried to calm her down. It was never easy seeing his daughter in pain. Even though she had never been seriously injured. Nothing more than a few small bruises from learning to walk. But it was still heartbreaking to hear her cry. “You’re alright though.”  

           “Owwww!” She wailed even louder.

           “S’alright.” Alfie swiped the little dot of blood away and kissed her hand. “There, all better. Dad’s kissed it so you’re all healed.”

           Chava sniffled and looked at the nearly invisible mark. Her lower lip stuck out and she shoved her hand back toward Alfie.

           “Still hurting? Why don’t we go inside and get a plaster on it then, aye?” He scooped her up to bring her inside. “Candace?” He called.

           “Yes, Mr. Solomons?” She popped out of the parlor.

           “Will you go get a plaster for Chava? She pricked herself on the rosebush.” He explained.

           “Oh, dear. Here, I can take her. Mrs. Solomons just woke up and she was asking for you.”

           Alfie nodded and gave Chava to her. “Alright, thank you.” He touched Chava’s cheek. “I’ll be back, love.” He promised before heading upstairs to the master bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Caroline was still in bed but was awake as Candace had said. She still looked pale and miserable from the illness. “Alfie?”

           “Yeah, love, it’s me.” He walked over to the bed and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

           But she stopped him once she felt the tickle of his beard on her skin. “I don’t need you getting sick too.” She reminded him.

           “Right, sorry.” Instead, he checked her forehead with the back of his hand. “Feeling a bit better?” He asked.

           “A little. I’m still so tired though.” Her voice was hoarse from the sore throat she was suffering.

           “Hm.” He pulled up a chair to sit beside the bed. “I could ring the doctor again.”

           “No, no. I’ll be alright.” She stifled a yawn. “Were you out with Chava? I thought I heard you two on the lawn.”

           “Yeah, she tried to grab the roses though and got stuck by a thorn.”

           Caroline wasn’t too worried. She was confident in Alfie’s ability to look after their daughter. “Well, maybe she’ll learn not to grab things so quickly. She’s got too much of her father in her.”

           “Doesn’t wait to think ‘bout the consequences?” Alfie chuckled.

           She smiled. “I didn’t say it, you did.” She sighed and turned onto her back. “But she’ll be brave like you are. And strong. That, I’m thankful for.”

           Alfie leaned forward to take her hand in his. He wasn’t afraid to get a little cold.

           “You know, when I first started to feel under the weather, I thought I was pregnant again.” Caroline mused out of the blue. “Remember how strange I was feeling around the time I learned I was pregnant with Chava?”

           “Yeah, I remember.” He nodded.

           “Well, I suppose it’s something to think about.” Her thumb smoothed over the top of his hand, grazing his wedding band.

           “Think about what?”

           “Having more children.” She turned her head back to him, resting her cheek on the pillow.

           At first, Alfie wasn’t sure why every muscle in his body locked up. “Well-s’a bit soon, innit? We just had Chava, she’s only just turning two.”

           “That’s common though, having children two years apart. Most of Ollie’s children have that age difference.” She pointed out calmly.

           But inside, her husband was panicking. Of course, he thought about having more children. It was inherently Jewish to think about having a large family. And, in Alfie’s opinion, it would be something positive. He adored being a father to Chava. But he couldn’t shake the memory of her birth. The blood on the sheets and the way Caroline looked like she was drained of life. That day he thought he was going to lose his wife. It was something he wasn’t keen on risking again.

           “It’s just…the way Chava’s birth went…”

           “I know it was scary but sometimes those things happen. It’s okay…”

           “Caroline, it ain’t ‘okay’.” He was a bit shocked by her blasé attitude. If anything, he thought she of all people would be the most hesitant. “You nearly bled to death.”

           “But I didn’t, I was okay, and I’m still okay. The doctor said I could have more children.” She insisted. “He wasn’t worried about that and neither was Hanna.”

           “How the fuck would they know, aye?” Alfie’s hand slipped from hers so he could get up to pace.

           “Because they’re trained in childbirth, Alfie!”

           “If they’d been trained well enough it wouldn’t’ve fucking happened the way it did!” He retorted.

           “I think you’re getting worked up over nothing.”

           “Nothing?” He threw his hands up. “Caroline, I nearly lost you! I thought I were gonna have to raise Chava all on me own. I thought I was going to have to tell her one day what happened to you.”

           “But you didn’t lose me!” Her voice cracked from the sore throat, unable to raise her voice to meet his.

           Alfie realized it wasn’t fair to argue with his sick wife. “I ain’t talking about this. Get some more rest.”

           “Alfie, Alfie!” She called after him but he left, shutting the door behind him.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​ @enrapturedbythemoon​ @vampgirl1997​

Tag list: @zazasblogxx​ @thinkingsofamadwoman​ @deaflikehawkeye​ @evelynshelby​ 

Masterlist

[princesssarisa]

10 facts about Shana and her mother Darika. Plus the full OC interview with each of them :)

Here they are! Shanna, the “Beauty” of my wlw Beauty and the Beast retelling (which still lacks a definitive title, though I intend it to include the word “rose”), and Darika, her mother.

Shanna 10 facts 1. She is 14 years old during the story’s prologue, 17 when the main plot starts, and 19 by the end.

2. My facecast for her is the late Israeli singer Ofra Haza (best known to some of us for providing the voice of Moses’s mother Yocheved in The Prince of Egypt) when she was very young.

3. She’s mixed race. Her mother’s ancestors were white pseudo-Europeans, while her father’s came from a Middle Eastern-inspired culture. Both practiced the same Judaism- and Shamanism-inspired religion, though. She’s her world’s equivalent of a Jewish person who’s half Ashkenazi, half Mizrahi.

4. Her name is partly a variant of the Yiddish “Shaina,” meaning “beautiful,” and partly an abbreviation of the Hebrew “Shoshanna,” meaning “lily” or, more significantly, “rose.” It has nothing to do with the Hebrew “shana,” meaning “year” – they’re just almost-homonyms.

5. Unlike most traditional Beauty and the Beast Beauties, she’s the eldest of three sisters, not the youngest. Her two sisters aren’t wicked, but they are a bit of a handful because they’re so young, and she’s had to be their responsible caretaker. She plays that role well – her little sister Zuri sooner calls for her than for their mother when she needs help – but it’s kept her from fully exploring her own potential, which she finally does get to explore during her time with Liriel, the lady beast.

6. Her personality is very much like Disney’s original animated Belle: bookish, sweet, emotional, full of dreams, yet intelligent and strong willed too. She’s more socially awkward than Belle, though, and unfortunately, she also has the self-doubt of Robin McKinley or Megan Kearney’s Beauties. Unlike Belle, she’s internalized the idea that she’s odd and oversensitive, so she tries to act like a “normal” down-to-earth villager, until the year she spends with Liriel makes her realize her worth just as she is.

7. She’s an aspiring author and poet. At age 13, before her family fell into poverty, she wrote a play based on the popular story of the heroine Lady Yasfira, portraying her as more flawed and dynamic than in most retellings, giving more sympathy than usual to the “evil” queen who opposed her, and portraying them as having once been friends. (Think either The Prince of Egypt or Wicked, or both.) The play was never performed at the time, but years later, with Liriel’s encouragement, she fine-tunes it, and then they perform it together for Liriel’s animal servants – this plays an important role in their growing feelings for each other.

8. She rarely lets herself get angry, but when she does, she can verbally annihilate you.

9. She realized she was bisexual at age 11 when, after her first crush on a boy at her school ended, she developed a new crush on a girl. She probably realized this more quickly than most real-world bi girls do, because the setting, Zalina Island, has no homophobia. She never acted on her crushes, but only out of shyness, not because she saw anything wrong with liking girls.

10. Despite her gentle personality, she’s not especially femme: she’s more soft butch, or maybe futch. She dislikes dresses (fortunately, Zalina Island has no taboo against women in pants) and generally wears just one or two feminine articles, like a shawl or earrings, with otherwise boyish clothing.

Interview (as she would answer it around the middle of the story)

What did you want to be, when you were a kid? There were so many things I wanted to be at different times. A queen, a princess, a duchess, a prophet, a traveling bard, an actress, a shepherdess, a farmer, a lady knight, a prime minister, a priestess, an acrobat, a cook, a kitchen maid, a dressmaker like my mother, a merchant like my father, a doctor, a midwife, a goldsmith, a fairy… and eventually, I realized that the one way to be all those things was to be a writer.

When did you know you wanted to be a writer? As soon as I was old enough to realize that stories didn’t come out of thin air, but where written by people. I wanted to do it as soon as I knew I could.

Who inspires you? My mother, my father, and a wide array of fictional heroes and heroines.

If you got to choose, where would you like to live? With whom? I’d love to live in a castle. I try not to care where I live as long as my family is with me, but my dreams of living in some splendid beautiful place never seem to die. I wouldn’t want it unless my family was there too, though.

Which item would you never give away? My journal, where I write down my secret thoughts, poems and stories.

Tell us about the biggest mistake you made in your life. Until recently, I might have cited the time I forgot to write an important history essay for school because I got lost in writing my play Yasfira and Anefri. Or else the time I lost my temper with my three-year-old sister Zuri and hurt her feelings so badly that she ran away and was missing for over an hour. But now, there’s no doubt that my worst mistake was asking Mama to bring me back a unique flower if she could find one on her trip to the city. Who would have thought a flower would cost so much?

Did you ever fear for your life? Yes, the moment when I saw Lady Liriel for the first time, after I followed Mama back to her lair – half wolf, half dragon, and entirely terrifying – and even more so, when she sniffed the air and I knew she smelled me hiding there.

There’s people who say you’re strange. Do you have any comment on this? I’m afraid it’s true. So often my imagination feels more real than the real world, my mind flies off to places that no one else believes exist, my emotions swell and crash like tidal waves no matter how much I try to swallow them and put logic first, I’ve always asked too many questions, and I feel less alone with only my books, paper and pen than I do in crowds of people.

Tell us something about you that nobody knows. Well, not many people know how strange I am anymore. I’ve learned to copy Mama and pretend to be as sensible and down-to-earth as she and our neighbors are, instead of spewing my feelings and dreams the way I used to. If the villagers knew about my romantic fantasies or the stories and poems I write in my head, they would laugh or scold even more than the people in the city did when I was small. 

What would make a perfect day for you? A few hours spent reading, a few spent writing, and maybe a trip to the theatre in the evening, with people who understand me and let me feel free to be myself.

Darika 10 Facts 1. She takes on the father’s traditional role in the Beauty and the Beast story. Her husband was a merchant, but he died in the same shipwreck that destroyed his merchandise and left the family impoverished. But a few years later, she learns that one of his ships survived after all, has to travel to reclaim its cargo, but gets lost in a forest… and we all know the rest. Recent BatB retellings have put a lot of effort into answering the question “What happened to Beauty/Belle’s mother?” in interesting and poignant ways. To be different, I thought “Why not make her mother the living parent?”

2. My facecast for her is the New York City Criminal Court judge Rachel “Ruchie” Freier. Not that I know much about Judge Freier, but her face look right for the character.

3. At the beginning of the story, she’s 35 years old. By the end, she’s 40.

4. She was born in a small, poor village at the base of the White Pine Mountains. Her parents died when she was a baby, so she was raised by her grandfather and her older sister, who have since died too. 

5. She worked as a seamstress in the village until she met and fell in love with a wealthy young traveling merchant from an elite port city. Despite the disapproval of his social circle, they married. After his death, she took their daughters back to her home village to start a new life.

6. Her impoverished upbringing and family tragedies have toughened her. She takes a very practical, hardworking, no-nonsense approach to life, tries to teach her daughters to do the same, and is calm and resolute in the face of hardship, focusing on “What are we going to do about it?” She sometimes loses patience with her daughter Shanna’s dreaminess and sensitivity, which makes Shanna, who adores and idolizes her, feel inadequate and weak.

7. Inside, though, she feels just as deeply and intensely as Shanna does. Her love for her family is limitless and she’s actually very dependent on Shanna, who fills the role of the family’s nurturing caregiver more than Darika’s temperament lets her do.

8. One thing she and Shanna have in common, which Shanna learned from her, is strong integrity and deep compassion for others. For her, the best part of being rich was all the good she could do for the poor, while the hardest part of becoming poor again was having so little to give to those even poorer.

9. Her sewing is more than just her job – it’s an art. She embroiders the clothes and quilts she makes with all kinds of colors and unique designs. The vibrant images she creates are an outlet for the emotions she doesn’t express.

10. Her personality is inspired by assorted beloved literary heroines, both classic (Jane Eyre, Elinor Dashwood) and modern (Tamora Pierce’s lady knight Keladry of Mindalen). For all their differences, and though they’re much younger than Darika, all these heroines are quiet, practical, dignified, staunch in their integrity, deeply caring and passionate on the inside, and yet with masks of stoic self-control that they only drop when intensely provoked. I like those heroines and admire them, yet sometimes their popular role model status annoys me, because it’s hard for a highly sensitive, naturally effusive person to act like them. So Darika pays tribute to them, but the story will also emphasize that her daughters don’t need to be like her.

Interview (as she would answer it around the middle of the story) What did you want to be, when you were a kid? A forest sprite or a good witch. I had a wild imagination in those days, before the real world tamed it.

When did you know you wanted to be a seamstress? When I first learned that the flowers and birds on my childhood quilt hadn’t sprouted there by themselves, but were embroidered by my mother, and that the storytelling tapestries that hung on the village temple walls were sewn by other villagers in the same way. I wanted to create beauty like they had, and to tell stories through pictures, while at the same time creating useful things for others: clothes, blankets, handkerchiefs, etc.  I think I willed my own talent for sewing into being to do just that.  

Who inspires you? My older sister Shanna; the namesake of my daughter. We lost our mother very young, so she took on the role of mother for me, and every day her love and strength have inspired me as I’ve raised my own children.

If you got to choose, where would you like to live? With whom? I would live in a clean, elegant, comfortable house with my daughters, a servant or two, and my husband, if only I could bring him back.

Which item would you never give away? My wedding ring.

Tell us about the biggest mistake you made in your life. Three of them, one directly after the other. First, when I was lost in the Great Forest during a storm, I took shelter in what I thought was an ordinary cave. Then, when I found that the inside looked like a castle, I should have turned and left; even then I knew that such an enchanted place would be dangerous. But I was cold, wet, and afraid I would die if I went back out into the storm, so I stayed. Last but not least, when I discovered the greenhouse garden in that castle-cave, I crept in and picked a rose as a gift for my daughter Shanna. Who would have dreamed a single flower would cost so much?

Did you ever fear for your life? I feared for my life when I was lost in the storm, but even more so when I came face to face with Lady Liriel. I’ll never forget the sight of her matted fur and vampire-bat fangs as she glared down at me.

There’s people who say you’re cold and stony. Do you have any comment on this? They don’t really know me.

Tell us something about you that nobody knows. Very few people fully know me, not even my daughters. I play the role of the calm, practical peasant woman, but it’s only skin-deep. Shanna thinks all her wild passions and romantic dreams came from her father, but really she inherited them from me too. My grandfather knew the secret me, and so did my sister, and my husband. But they’re all gone, and as I’ve buried each of them, I’ve buried those aspects of myself more deeply.

What would make a perfect day for you? A quiet day of embroidery by the fire at home, with my daughters all near me and all happy.

[ekmekandwater-blog]

Thirty Eight Years and Still Going

38 years ago today I made a decision that would forever impact my life.  Here’s the story:

I thought I'd take this time to re-post my own story of how I decided to follow Jesus. In other words, How did a guy like me end up writing a blog like this?

I was raised in a non-religious Jewish home.  I emphasize the term “non-religious” because I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.  No side curls, no Hebrew classes, just an occasional Yiddish phrase and matzo ball soup.  I had no idea about any of the reasons for some of the holidays we celebrated.  I thought Passover was a food holiday – “Pass over the matzos please.   Pass over the bitter herbs!”  Seriously, I had no idea.  I just knew we didn’t believe in Jesus because I asked my mom several times after watching Davy and Goliath or something like that.

The God issue wasn’t something that we discussed much, but I had thought about it some.  I remember early on thinking it was kinda silly to believe in God.  I understood later, that people believed in God, as I saw it, to help them cope with life and mortality or hardships or whatever.  I didn’t really have a problem with people doing this if it helped them cope.  When I got older though, I met people who didn’t just casually believe in a divine coping mechanism (the invisible friend for grownups) but who were making life choices as a result of this belief.  These people were choosing to not do some of the things that I was doing – they were choosing not to have the kind of fun that (it seemed to me) high school kids ought to have because of this concept of God.  That seemed ludicrous to me.  It seemed to me that Christians were being stupid about this and so I saw it as my duty to let them know.

I was that guy in high school – the outspoken skeptic.  I wouldn’t have called myself an atheist because I thought to speak authoritatively that there is no God seemed equally foolish.  My argument was that it was impossible to know.

During my senior year in high school, my buddy Chet and I applied to work at The Happiest Place on Earth, Disneyland.  We got accepted and shortly after my 18th birthday, we began to work in “Outdoor Vending.”  My job title was a “culinary host” which meant that I sold ice-cream, popcorn and balloons.

On day 2 of my employment, I was assigned a trainer for the day to learn the art and science of ice-cream sales.  It’s a complicated science that requires 8 hours together with a trainer.  You take the order, take the money, open the lid, pull out the desired frozen treat and smile.  It’s very complex. So the trainer assigned to me for the day was a young woman named Cynthia.  Cynthia had a personality as big as life.  She laughed loud, smiled big and just seemed to get a lot out of life.  It turns out, and I found out quickly, that she was also one of those enthusiastic, life changed, born again Christians – but like I said, she had a pretty engaging personality and we became friends in spite of her deep convictions.

So during that summer if she was working at a nearby popcorn or ice cream wagon, and I was on a break, I would stop by to visit.  And every single time, I kid you not, she would start to tell me something about the God she believed in.  She would have Bible verses on 3X5 cards that she was using to actually memorize portions of the Bible!  And she would show me what was on her card and say something like, “Mike, look at this.  Look at how much God loves you.  Isn’t that amazing?”  And I would respond with something like, “That’s great for you, but it’s not my thing.”  Undaunted, we would have a similar conversation the next time we met.

I think it was her consistency of her life and message (and for those of you wondering, no, I wasn’t really interested in dating her or anything) and she seemed so earnestly convinced of this God stuff that I started to re-visit the whole God question in my head.  Is there a God? If there is a God, is he somebody I need to worry about?  Does it ultimately make a difference?  Who could I ask about this?  Who’s been talking to me non-stop about God since the day I met her?

So I was working on Main St. at popcorn wagon #2 and I decided to send a note to Cynthia to come and chat with me when she got a chance.  As a sidelight and a bit of Disney trivia, when popcorn venders want to communicate with each other in those days, we of course couldn’t leave our wagons.  We were stuck in one place and so we would use the sweepers.  They were mobile and they were the pony express of the Disney world.  So Cynthia got my note and came out at the end of her shift and I told her what I had been thinking about.

Literally, just at that moment, a sweeper came by.  “Hey Joe,” Cynthia called, and Joe came sweeping over, “You still have that Gospel of John on you?”  Joe said, “Sure,” pulled a gospel of John out of his breast pocket and handed it to me.  Cynthia said, “Mike, if you want to know about God, the best person to ask is God.  Say, ‘Lord I want to know you and I want to know more about you.’  And then sit down and read this Gospel of John.”

I said, “okay” and I took that book home and I probably prayed that prayer 100 times (by the way, had I known I was praying, I probably wouldn’t have done it).  And the more I prayed, the more I thought, “Yeah, God, if you are real, I want to know you.”  So finally, I sat down on our couch in the living room and read the book from cover to cover.

Now I’d heard about Jesus before this time, mainly as something you yell when you’re really frustrated, but I’d never really known any of the story.  This was my first encounter with him and I have to tell you, he impressed me.  There was something to this guy - something, dare I say…spiritual?  Something was happening to me as I read it – for the first time in my life, I began to believe in God.  I still wasn’t sure what to do with Jesus and how he fit into it all.  There was a verse in John 14:6 where Jesus claimed to be the only way to God and I remember thinking that was a pretty narrow statement and it excluded my people – even though I wasn’t an observant Jew, that seemed like a big hurdle.

But I went off to Whittier College as a freshman and I started to enter into the God discussion as a participant rather than an antagonist.  This was a new experience.  I remember being surprised at how many people believed in God as I met Catholics, Protestants, Muslims, Mormons and every Joe blow with their own homespun theology.  And as I compared notes, I realized all of their theologies had complexity to them.  All of their gods had personality and ideas and history and values and the God I believed in was empty and void – he needed help and so I enhanced him.  I began to construct God out of the conversations I’d been having.  A little of this, a dab of that and voila I had my god.  By the end of the school year, he had become more complex and I was proud of him.

On June 15 of that year, I stepped into The Raven bookshop in La Canada and ran into one of my Christian friends from high school who I used to pick on.  I said, “Hey Denise, how’re you doing?”  “Praise the Lord,” she replied, “I’m just serving Jesus…” and blahbity blahbity blah about Jesus and I replied, “I have my beliefs.”  “Really,” she exclaimed, “I’d love to hear them.”  And so in the next 30 seconds, I unpacked all of my complex theology (I remember thinking, “Is that all?” I guess I hadn’t developed my theology as much as I had thought) and Denise shook her head and cleared her throat and said, “we need to talk.”

So there we were right in the middle of the bookstore, talking about God,  “In our culture, Mike,” she continued, “Wouldn’t you agree that if we’re talking about God, then more often than not, we’re probably talking about the God of the Bible.”  I thought about it – if there wasn’t a Bible we probably wouldn’t know much about God and so I replied, “sure.”  She said then, “It seems to me that if we’re claiming to believe in the God of the Bible, we should believe what the Bible says about the God of the Bible.”  I agreed.

There is a verse in the New Testament book of Romans – Romans 10:9,10 which says, “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that He is risen from the dead, you will be saved.”  Denise explained to me a lot about the God of the Bible.  She answered a lot of my objections and I knew that I needed to quit avoiding the inevitable and I needed to start following the God that Denise followed whatever that meant.  And I really had no idea what that meant.  But I also knew that I didn’t want to be a freak and so I was going to keep that decision to myself.  I wasn’t going to confess that with my mouth before anyone.

As it turns out, God knew what I was thinking.  And so just a few hours later, that same evening, I was working at Disneyland.  I wasn’t actually working in the park itself but rather was blowing up balloons for the evening in the balloon room.  I was only able to interact with guests in the park for 15 minutes when I was giving a balloon vender a break.  So there I was, standing with a bunch of Mickey Mouse balloons under the people mover when this guy walked up to me.  I had never seen him before and I have never seen him since.  But he walked up to me and said, “Excuse me.  I’d like to know if you’ve accepted Jesus Christ as your personal savior.”

I thought for a moment and replied, “Yes, as a matter of fact I have.”  He said, “okay,” and took off into the crowd (and who knows? Back to heaven?).  That was that.  I went back to the balloon room where a # of my Christian friends were working and I told them what happened, that this weird guy came up to me and…They got very excited and word got out among the believers in outdoor vending and we started a Bible study with the sweepers and the vendors.  And I got a good strong start to my Christian life.

That God was in such obvious pursuit of me is something that still moves me.  And the events of June 15 following my freshman year in college 30+ years ago still wow me.  But that was just the beginning.  More stories to come soon.  I’d love to hear yours!

[hollybear009-blog]

~MY STORY~

Hi! My name is Holly. I'm 26 years old. I'm Jewish. I am known to be the only member in my whole family that is Jewish. My family is originally Catholic & Christian, I am NOT any of them, surprisingly. I would really like to explore my Jewish faith & Jewish religion. I would like to learn how to speak the Jewish language (Hebrew & Yiddish right?), & learn how to Practice the Jewish ways. That'd be GREAT! I am a 100% REAL person & 100% NOT FAKE person behind the computer & internet, no need to worry or fear about that. I'm a REAL person! No Worries! I am "questioning" myself again (sexual orientation). I'm very confused about it! Drives me CRAZY!!! I always try to make everyone & everything happy in whatever way possible. If they're not happy, then i'm not happy so i do what i can to make them all happy, & accepting of me too. I laugh like a hyena. I think my spirit animal is a wolf, cause i have some wolf in me. I can howl like a wolf, growl like a wolf, & i feel the inner WOLF in me! I'm NOT saying this to be crazy or anything. I've noticed that I'm like a wolf too. I love the woods. I'm a HUGE SUPPORTER & FAN of Hillary Clinton. I am a HUGE Cat & Kitten (pets & animals) FAN too! We've always had them as our pets. We have two cats right now named Buddy & Kiwi. We adopted them from animal shelters. We adopted one cat who was later sick & had to be put to rest in Heaven, & crossed the Rainbow Bridge December 5, 2005! His name was Simba. I miss him sooooooo much! I'm glad that he's not suffering anymore though. I just miss him very much! Rest In Peace Forever Simba! We miss & love you very much! We've lost other family members too that really broke my heart. My grandfather died December 5, 2009, my grandmother (his wife) died September 5, 2014 (i think), a few days after my Birthday (which is September 2nd). I miss them both so much too! And I miss my other deceased family & pets too very much! I'm glad that they're not suffering anymore.I still miss them terribly! Rest In Peace Forever all of you! We miss & love you very much! *tears up sadly* My eye color is dark-green & my hair color is dark-brown, and shoulder-length. I'm overweight, but dieting to lose the weight. I'm 5'3 height too. My fave colors are black, white, gray (grey) dark-brown (like my hair color), & dark-green (like my eye color). I have mental illnesses that caused me to hear voices, hallucinate, smell, hear, feel, see, taste, & believe that there is another world where i once was before, even though it's not true or real. It just seems that way. I get a lot of treatment, & care for them, & my other health problems. I have schizoaffective disorder, bipolar disorder, anxiety disorder, depression disorder, etc. I get tact tile issues, premonitions, psychic dreams, déjà vu, & had a "psychotic break" that caused me to be too sick to stay at my job, so i had to leave it behind. The HARDEST thing for me to have to do! I really liked that job. It paid well for me $8.00 an hour, part-time, lunch-breaks, rest-breaks, & very fun to do. I worked in our town's Mini Market called Kennie's Market. I worked there in their deli area. I thought that it'd be hard for me to do at first, but i did it easily! Then the NIGHTMARE happened to me! Been unemployed ever since then. I volunteer at our local, nearby SPCA animal shelter now. I am a really good person. I am shy, funny, innocent, friendly, kind, caring, loving, supportive, anti-social, introverted, have a good, & a loving personalty. I'm just like anyone else. I think of myself as "unique," & "mysterious." I am an English Major who wants to learn more about William Shakespeare, Abraham Lincoln, & the English Literature. My parents are divorced & have been for a long time. They weren't getting along with each other. I had just Graduated High School & got my very first job, at a Mini Market in their Deli area in our town Gettysburg, when they told my twin brother (not alike) & myself that they were divorcing, & that they're not getting along with each other. I became very mentally ill that same year, just after they planned to get divorced. They stayed together for awhile to help take care of me then. Then soon after they actually divorced. I was sent to a Mental Hospital the next year after getting mentally sick in 2008. I don't wanna talk about it right now. Hope that's okay. Growing up I was always bullied by people, who i thought liked me & were my real friends. In high school i was bullied & harassed so bad that i had to switch schools during junior year. I didn't deserve any of that mess & it was for no reason! I even got the same cruel treatment in Creative Writing Class there too, & had to leave the class I was very upset. No one would do anything about it even though they said they would. I switched schools and was still bullied & harassed by others but it was handled by the teacher. I don't have hardly any friends, just one good friend who i grew up with in elementary school. We're still friends, i guess. I wish that I were treated better by people. And I wish that I had REAL & ACTUAL friends, not just my family. I don't know why people aren't nice or don't like me? I'm very friendly, sweet, & funny. And just trying to be a normal person. Shame. . . I live with my mom & pets in Gettysburg. We have two cats named Buddy & Kiwi. And a new pet hamster that i named Harley (Harley Quinn from Suicide Squad & her other comics. I'm a HUGE FAN of her).My dad lives elsewhere with other people, like women he dates. He's currently dating a woman who i really like to spend time with too. She's very nice, funny, caring, & a very good person. I hope that my dad & her stay together forever, if possible. My twin brother (not alike-i only have one sibling in my family) lives on his own elsewhere or with roommates. He's a USA Marine & a Mixed Martial Arts Fighter (MMA). He's my Best Friend & my loving, caring brother! True, we fight a lot & roughhouse sometimes, but we get along mostly. He's a good brother. Just when he tries to wake me up from naps & sleep is very chaotic cause i sleep a lot cause of my medicines i take for my mental illnesses, my regular health issues, & my mental illnesses themselves. I'm still a very good person, i try to anyways. I always put other's happiness before mine, if they're happy then i'm happy too. I love to read mostly magazines, but i do read regular books like Anne Frank, Suicide Squad & Harley Quinn comic books, & other interesting books. I'm not much of a book reader anymore like i used to be years ago. I used to read books & hate writing. My cursive hand-writing is TERRIBLE! I was never good at that writing part. Now I don't read much anymore, but try to do more stories & novels so maybe someday i will be an Author of them. I started doing them in school, even though as a kid i hated writing. My cursive hand-writing is terrible! Now years later, i enjoy writing and would like to be an Author of Books & Poetry again someday. I also like to read Anime/Manga books too. My dream job is being an animal Vet or an animal Vet Tech. I love animals, not insects though. And be an Author of Books & Poetry. My mom and i volunteer at our local, nearby SPCA animal shelter & socialize with the cats & kittens there. We always love doing that when we do. I'd always joke around with my mom about adopting them, too bad we can't cause we already have two cats right now, so we can't adopt anymore cats yet, if we ever do. Oh well. . .We enjoy being around them when we go see them when we volunteer there. I love Photography, just for a hobby. I also love Art too. I'm kinda a kid-at-heart-type of person. I love cartoons & kid-stuff still. I don't watch them or watch much TV anymore though. I like music too. I only listen to music, not play it on any instruments. Though i remember just now that i'd always enjoy playing music on my grandmother's piano years ago. I mostly listen to music though. My fave sports teams on TV are San Jose Sharks, Philadelphia Flyers, Hershey Bears-Ice Hockey Teams, Penn State, Baltimore Ravens, & Ohio State Buckeyes-American Football Teams. My favorite movies are Suicide Squad, James Bond, Titanic, The Horse Whisperer, Band of Brothers, Anne Frank, etc. My favorite Anime/Manga are Sailor Moon, Yu-Gi-Oh!, Hamtaro, Pokemon, Blue Exorcist, Black Butler, Naruto, Inuyasha, etc. My favorite music bands are Evanescence, We are the Fallen, My Chemical Romance, Disturbed, Within Temptation, Bullet for my Valentine, Korn, Godsmack, Breaking Benjamin, Avril Lavigne, Skillet, Avenged Sevenfold, etc. Well Folks. . .I've run out of things to tell you about me for now. If you wanna know more, feel free to ask me anytime!

[shomronneighbor-blog]

By Shmuel Sackett

The Non-Zionist Zionist

January 17, 2017

Shmuel Sackett, International Director of Zehut

I attended a lecture recently on the life of the incredible Klausenberger Rebbe, Yekusiel Yehuda Halbertsam ztz”l. The Rebbe lost his wife and all 11 children in the Holocaust plus his mother, sisters, brother and 150 close relatives. Although he was broken and shattered, he became the leader of the Jews in the DP camps. As unbelievable as it sounds, the Rebbe managed to turn the DP camp of Fohrenwald (in Munich, Germany) into the center of religious life. He created a survivor’s organization called “She’iris Ha’Pletah” (the surviving remnant) which ran Yeshivos in 19 different DP camps! The Rebbe set up a slaughterhouse, built a mikveh, distributed tzizit, tefillin and mezuzot and set up Halachic guidelines for men and women to marry who had no proof of their spouse’s death which enabled them to remarry and start a new family.

I enjoyed this lecture immensely, especially since it was given in Netanya - the very town where the Rebbe built his Chassidus after the war! It’s not every day you learn about a Jewish hero who refused to quit. This unbelievable, holy Yid never stopped serving Hashem with all his might. He remarried, had 7 more children and rebuilt his Chassidus bigger than ever before.

I always knew that the Klausenberger Rebbe settled and built the Kiryat Sanz section of Netanya. What I did not know, however, was that the Rebbe first came to America after WWII (1947) and started rebuilding his Chassidus in Brooklyn. He was quite successful in Williamsburgh although he always dreamed of moving to Israel. In 1958 he established the Kiryat Sanz neighborhood of Netanya and the Rebbe made Aliyah in 1960, with most of his Chassidic followers from Brooklyn. He lived in Israel until his passing in 1994.

His life in Israel was – once again – one of building, growing, inspiring and motivating. He built Yeshivas, Shuls, Mikvehs and the very famous “Laniado Hospital” – which is run 100% according to Halacha. The Rebbe insisted that there be a clause in the contract of all hospital employees forbidding them to strike, which is still in effect to this very day. Not too long ago, a nationwide hospital strike was declared in Israel, and all hospitals shut down… except Laniado! The hospital encompasses two medical centers, a children’s hospital, a geriatric center and a nursing school.

After the lecture was over there was a short time for Q&A and a question came from a woman which absolutely floored me. Although I am certain that she intended the question in a well-meaning way, her five word question stunned me. She asked; “Was the Rebbe a Zionist?”

I certainly knew what the woman meant; Did the Rebbe say “Hallel” on Yom Ha’Atzmaut? Did the Rebbe wave a big Israeli flag? Did the Rebbe serve in the IDF? To all these questions, I am sure the answer is “NO” but – after listening to a one hour lecture of what he did in his life – in my humble opinion, the Klausenberger Rebbe was the biggest Zionist I ever heard of!!

Let’s review for a moment: He was living in Williamsburgh with his new wife and several children. After experiencing the worst 10 years imaginable, his life was finally calm and peaceful. He was returning the Sanz-Klausenberg chassidus to life with new energy and new hope. He, somehow, managed to pick up the broken pieces of his dreams and glue them back together. Yet, the Rebbe was not satisfied. Something was missing and that something was a life in Eretz Yisrael. In the mid 50’s he sent a few of his chassidim to find a suitable location and after several years the perfect place was found; a large plot of land adjacent to the northern tip of Netanya. These chassidim were instructed to look in non-Haredi locations. He was not interested in building his chassidus in Jerusalem, Bnei Brak or Tzefat. Although the Rebbe loved those places very much, he specifically wanted an area that was not known to be a religious. His dream was to bring Torah to a new place and invigorate it with the soul and spirit of chassidus.

In 1960 he moved to Israel with his entire family and most of his chassidim. And then, after turning an empty plot of land into a major center of Jewish life, he moved on to his next project; the building of a hospital. Please read a translation of the words said by the Rebbe (in Yiddish) at the laying of the cornerstone of the hospital:

“I was saved from the gas chambers, saved from Hitler. I spent several years in Nazi death camps. Besides the fact that they murdered my wife and 11 children, my mother, my sisters and my brother – of my whole family, some 150 people, I was the only one who survived – I witnessed their cruelty. I remember as if it were today how they shot me in the arm. I was afraid to go to the Nazi infirmary, though there were doctors there. I knew that if I went in, I'd never come out alive. … Despite my fear of the Nazis, I plucked a leaf from a tree and stuck it to my wound to stanch the bleeding. Then I cut a branch and tied it around the wound to hold it in place. With God's help, it healed in three days. Then I promised myself that if, with God's help, I got well and got out of there, away from those resha'im (wicked people), I would build a hospital in Eretz Yisrael where every human being would be cared for with dignity. And the basis of that hospital would be that the doctors and nurses would believe that there is a God in this world and that when they treat a patient, they are fulfilling the greatest mitzvah in the Torah.”

This was HaRav Yekusiel Yehuda Halberstam, the Klausenberger Rebbe. He moved to Israel from Brooklyn… brought hundreds of families with him… took empty land in northern Netanya and turned it into a community with thousands of people. He built schools, shuls, mikvehs and a huge hospital with a nursing school – all in Israel. He lived in Israel from 1960 to the day he died in 1994… and someone actually asked: “But is he a Zionist”???

Dearest friends; when someone does all that – or even half of it! – he is a Zionist, like it or not. He (or she) may not eat blue and white cupcakes on Yom Ha’Atzmaut or know how to shoot an M-16 but he is a Zionist through and through! A Zionist is one who dreams about life in Israel and then pursues that dream, for whatever the reason. Maybe it’s to join a sister in Ramat Bet Shemesh or to have his children learn in a Yeshiva in Jerusalem. Maybe it’s to enlist in the IDF or to build a Chassidic dynasty in Netanya. Maybe it’s even to save money on Yeshiva tuitions! In all cases, one who gives up on his/her life in America, France or Australia (among other places…) to come to live, build and work in Israel is a 100% Zionist from top-to-bottom. Furthermore, that person can wear a knitted kippa, a streimel, baseball hat or have 3 earrings (and I’m talkin’ about the guys!!) – they are still Zionists! Finally, they can say they’re not or even spit when you say that “dirty” word but a Jew (observant or not) who leaves a foreign country to raise a family in the Promised Land is a 100% Zionist.

All that is left to say is this: Jew come home, and come home now! Once you are here we will figure out what to call you; A Zionist or a Non-Zionist Zionist!!