BJI AUTHOR JULIE ZUCKERMAN'S LETTERS FROM ISRAEL
THIS IS OUR LIFE NOW
Julie Zuckerman became a part of BHC family when she presented her novel, The Book of Jeremiah for Books of Jewish Interest in 2020. Julie spoke to us on Zoom from her home in Israel.
Julie, who lives in Modin, offers a view opens a window on "the situation" and how she and her family are experiencing the Hamas Attack.
Her letters from Israel offer an honest and compassionate voice that she has allowed us to print here.
Julie Zuckerman and family harvest avocados
Dear friends,
I don’t usually send anything mid-month, but this war is all-consuming and I thought some of you might appreciate an update. I’ll share a few literary-related things (book recs, events, extra readings and resources) below this intro.
Wherever you go, the war and the hostages are the only topics of conversation. Some people think it will be over in a matter of weeks, others think it will go on for a long time, possibly a year. Here’s a sample from the hundreds of whatsapp messages I receive daily: who/where needs help now or tomorrow or next week in the agricultural sector?…please come to a musical havdalah / run / vigil for the hostages…sign this petition or open letter…check out this compelling article or video…please amplify this post…help is needed to make food/watch children of families with husbands called up to the IDF reserves…here are pictures of my son/daughter/multiple children in the IDF who we got to see/or someone saw for a brief visit…who can help take a shift to do a security sweep at shul? (you do not need to be armed)…instead of the big wedding we hoped to throw for our son, we will be holding a more intimate ceremony close to his base…in the coming days we will be welcoming the guidance counselor for 9th grade back to school, a month after she lost her son, and we are ordering t-shirts for everyone in the grade to commemorate him…Ramat Gan/Givatayim - everyone okay?checking in after the sirens…this is the funeral route for the latest death, please come and line the streets with Israeli flags.
On and on it goes. As I wrote a few weeks ago, It’s Too Much. It’s still too much.
“This is our life now,” says my friend, who attended three different memorials last week to mark shloshim (30 days) since their funerals. Two for soldiers from her son’s Armored Corps battalion, which sustained heavy losses on October 7, and one for her cousin. All this while waiting for word that her son is okay, a brief message that only comes every week and a half. I have several friends in the same situation, one of whom has not heard from her son in nearly three weeks. Tonight when I checked in on that friend, she said she’s “hanging tight” and I replied that she is now the world’s greatest expert on hanging tight.
Depending on where your kids go to school, they may or may not have returned full-time. (Mine did, only this week). Depending on where you work, you may or may not have gone back into your office. (I’m back to going in twice a week, now that my office has taken temporary space in a newer building with a safe room). Depending on how much free time you can squeeze out of the week determines how often and how long you can devote to volunteer activities.
By far the best day I’ve had since October 7th was a week and a half ago, Sunday, November 5th. I took the day off of work, and together with my husband and daughters, we went to pick avocados on Kibbutz Sa’ad, located only a few kilometers from Gaza. It was backbreaking work (I’m still sore), and despite the thunderous artillery booms that had me jumping out of my skin for the first half hour, it was a profound experience. I found it both grounding and comforting to do this work, and I’m working on an essay about it. (I’m almost finished, so if you are an editor reading this, let me know if you’re interested). :-)
Read the rest of Julie’s letter on her Substack page here.