View From The Shelter: Desperately Afraid, Extremely Proud
From BHC member Lynn Alster, from Israel, 23 June 2025
Dear Friends,
5:20 am was two hours ago. Now well practiced, we rolled out of bed into the sandals strategically placed alongside, glided down our staircase, linked one arm our around our “essentials” bag, the housekey in his hand, the phones in mine, locked the backdoor, and joined neighborhood foot traffic. In our case, safety is around 100 feet away, in the nearest public bomb shelter. Some folk are perkily communicative notwithstanding the time of day or night, others mostly sleepwalk. Once we arrive, each of us plops down on a chair or reclines on a thin yoga mattress we each shlepped here two or so weeks ago when we staked our claim.
Empty and lots of chairs,missing. Purple sheet mattess is ours
The shelter is the size of a generous living room, without a stick of furniture. Happily, thanks to a long ago decision to invest a bit in the place, it boasts two slightly functional toilet stalls (bring your own paper), a water fountain and, most blessedly this hot summer, an air conditioner. It usually serves as a public space for gymnastics classes for little girls, or tae kwon do practice for little boys.
Since June 13, nearly all community, social and public activity has ceased, other than for emergency workers. Instead, back at our local shelter, and in shelters around the country, each local family unit, large or small, stakes out their bit of floor space, shlepping in a beach chair or two, or dusty yoga mattresses. The better equipped laid down sheets, blankets and pillows.
It admittedly took us a while to admit that we might be next in line in this game of roulette. Two days ago, after seeing more pictures of folks standing outside destroyed homes with nothing in hand, we joined the uber cautious and packed the essentials bag with passports, cash, credit cards. It is surprisingly light.
We actually didn’t know the neighbors all that well before. But now we know more about those from our side of the shelter. Some are kindly looking old folk who arrived with canes or limps. Some want to chat, others prefer to sink downwards into their overnight attire. The young families whose kids slide back and forth or tumble and rumble on the slippery floor keep everyone entertained (and awake). The grumpy fellow who periodically acts personally affronted if an unknowing visitor parks in front of his house actually turns out to be a nice guy. The old lady with enormous glasses turns out to be a fascinating Dutch member of the Christians for Jews movement who had married a Druze. Judging from their tails, our neighborhood’s housedogs are frightened by the sirens; they ignore each other.
Once, during a midday alert, when the mood lifted here, someone from outside the neighborhood decided to proceed anyway notwithstanding home front orders (such an Israeli thing to do!), so her bridal group engaged in outdoor pictures in our leafy area joined, armed with photographer, pink gowned bridesmaids and, here comes the bride. (I gifted her my chair.) Other memorable encounters was when the 5 dripping wet 6 year old girls ran in from a backyard kiddy pool, wrapped in towels; and when an intense teenager-only Texas Hold ‘Em poker game went on until 2 am.
Did you know that, like our neighborhood, more than one-third of Israel does not have home bomb shelters? That is because many homes predate the 1990s ordinance requiring that each home have a “mamad”. So, we are not at all unusual. In fact, we might be relatively lucky, as our shelter is not an unpleasant space and, happily, our neighborhood has not suffered serious damage.
There are many day to day challenges. Working parents are home with bored and restless toddlers and kids, who have no where to go for release. A walk in the forest is a dangerous thought. Being caught on the roads in a siren is awful.
We know many people who are stuck here or there, without planes or the promise of getting back to their loved ones, no matter the side of the ocean. People look for and experiment with all kinds of solutions; boats, yachts, flying and occasionally from neighboring Arab countries. We have heard stories of success, and of failure. Many refuse to internalize helplessness or lack of control, and take the wheel in hand, damn the cost. Others are more passive.
I asked people here how they feel about the situation? A number of people said “Desperately afraid, and extremely proud.” A thoughtful older woman explained that, although it is okay to be proud (by this, folks mean the accomplishments of Israeli pilots), she forewarned against the sin of pride, against feelings of revenge, against reactive anger, which she feels historically blinds people to rational thought and long term solution seeking. I haven’t heard anyone in Israel who disagrees with Trump’s action to send bombers, although I have heard voices in the US who do.
As for myself, I remain cautiously optimistic that leaders and their population can turn these events into a turning point for a more secure future. I truly pray for that to happen for my children and grandchildren, for the non-terrorist Palestinians in Gaza as well as the Iranian nation of people: they all deserve better.
We still have no idea if our plans to be in New Hampshire this summer can or should be realized in any shape or form – we were supposed to arrive there in a few days. As I write this last line, it is 8:30 am, 1.5 hours after Trump’s announced ceasefire went into effect. And the radio announcer is yelling about a fall in a southern town, that killed four civilians, post the stated ceasefire commencement.
It all remains so complicated!
My best to you,
Lynn