cheological digs. But mostly, they were happy to set up the reel-to-reel projector and show those JNF films: A kindly old British narrator going all over the coun- try with a folk dancing troupe following him, shots of the walls of Jerusalem, the Tel Aviv coast, the fields of the Golan, the sands of the Negev. Thanks to those teachers, I knew I had to go to Israel. And thanks to those films, when I got to Israel, I knew I had to try to fry an egg in the desert. My first trip to Israel was in the summer of 1990 on a Young Judaea program—three weeks on Kibbutz Mevo Hama in the Golan Heights, five weeks touring north to south. The program encompassed every- thing—Jewish and Israel history, modern and ancient architecture, hikes to waterfalls and swimming holes. Unfortunately, it also included a session on Israel’s struggles with a recorded presentation given by Bibi Netanyahu. (I still have the cassette).
don’t live in Israel, you can make mean- ingful things happen there. I had been publishing a magazine on skateboarding since 1999 ( Concrete Wave ) and in the spring of 2012, I came up with the idea of building a peace movement. I called it Longboarding for Peace and I decided to kick things off with having Israelis and Palestinians skateboard together in the name of peace. We worked with the Peres Center for Peace and they arranged several work- shops, including at the Shuafat refugee camp in East Jerusalem. There were three members of my family along with about 10 Israelis on a bus. When we approached the security gate, I realized that for most of these folks, they were well out of their comfort zone. When we got to the school in Shuafat, the students were very excited by all the longboards. We took a number of photos that day—but this one by Yair Hasidof remains my favourite. It’s all about balance and trust— two critical elements that seem to be in short supply when it comes to Israel and the Palestinian issue. This photo shows pro skater Yoni Ettinger helping a young student who had never tried skateboard- ing before. Although she was a little intimidated at first, with Yoni’s help, she found her way. This encapsulates what is pos- sible if people work together for peace. Skateboarding has always
Joshua Katchen with egg
spiraled into the ground near Kfar Yesodot, killing all aboard. He was buried in the Rehovot military cemetery. Fast forward to October 2017 when I received an unexpected call from Israel. It turned out that 103 Squad- ron and Nevatim AFB had
undertaken what they deemed a moral obligation to renew the ties with the families of the fallen. They had managed to find me and the daughter of the co-pilot, Fred Stevenson and we were invited to attend Nevatim AFB’s memorial service two days before Yom ha-Zikaron. The memorial service was held in a large hangar, with over 1,000
William Fisher’s grave, Rehovot Military Cemetery
been my way to centre myself. If you go too far to the right, you wind up in a circle. Too far to the left, and the same thing happens.
people in attendance. We were seated in the front row, and part of the service included a video based on interviews with myself and Steven- son’s daughter. The service was, of course, in Hebrew and the names of the members of Nevatim who had died in service to Israel were read. It ended with the singing of Hatikvah. On Yom ha-Zikaron, we were taken to the Air Force memorial service at Pilots’ Mountain. Our next stop was at the MACHAL memorial site in Sha’ar Hagai, just off the Tel Aviv to Jerusalem highway, and then, it was on to Rehovot military cemetery to visit my uncle’s grave. It was a moving, once-in-a-life- time trip. n
Wilf Mandel, Toronto. Our most meaningful visit to Israel was in April, 2018. A bit of background: My uncle, William Fisher, was an RCAF navigator during the Second World War. In 1948, Israel was in dire need of aviators, and he vol- unteered to serve. He was one of over 4,500 volunteers from 58 countries, known as MACHAL the Hebrew acronym for Mitnadvei Chutz La’aretz—volunteers from abroad. On the night of Oct. 24, 1948, he, along with three other Machalniks, took off from Tel Aviv to bring supplies to Sdom. A few minutes after takeoff, the right engine exploded and the Dakota
The only way forward in life (and with the conflict in the Middle East) is a balanced approach—the radical paths of extreme left and right only keep us in circles. This photo reminds me that balance requires support. Joshua Katchen, Toronto. My connection with Israel started in Hebrew day school. I went to the Calgary Hebrew School in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s. Israeli shlichim would come for one or two years (some even stayed) and not only teach about Israel, but share their lived experiences —their time on kibbutz, or in the IDF, or on ar-
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