In the age of Facebook, Twitter and other social media platforms, I daresay that most of us – if not all of us – have been there. You know what I’m talking about – virtual friendship. Those friends we make online, often through other friends, but not always. We interact with them on our profiles, we poke and get poked in return. We tag them in notes and we exchange 140-character “tweets”. Deepest thoughts are revealed, private jokes are created, mundane tidbits of everyday life are shared. Before you even realize it, you have a new friend. Sure, you haven’t actually met in “real” life, but in the days of friendship 2.0, that almost seems trivial. After all, you “connect” on so many different levels. Or at least you think you do…

Because, after exchanging hundreds of messages, wall comments and the like, it slowly begins to change. A flurry of pathetic excuses are made, occasional bickering ensues (followed by abject apologies, of course) and with each passing day, the friendship feels more and more like a toy whose time has passed. The initial excitement has seemingly died down (for one of you, anyway) and maybe you lose interest and toss the friendship aside. Or perhaps you are the one relegated to the virtual shelf with all the other “toys”, taken down to be played with at random, at the whims of someone you believed was your friend.  You just don’t understand it, because not only were you led to believe that things were going well, but even when you decide to take a step back, they’re back on the radar with emails and comments, keeping you just off-balance enough so as to keep you guessing.

Suddenly, it all goes to hell.  The person you thought you knew, the friend you thought you’d made is no more. You can’t figure out what happened, so you push the issue, you question the silence. Outrageous accusations begin to fly. Words, calculated to cause pain, hit their mark. You are stunned, shaken, hurt. And once you get over the initial shock, you are angry. Angry that this individual you’d trusted and liked could twist things around in such a grandly absurd manner, absolved of all responsibility. Angry that this person has decided that they were an innocent victim of a “stalker” of sorts (!), conveniently forgetting their own involvement in the “friendship”. You are shocked by this blatant display of pathetic, childish behavior, and it comes as no surprise when you discover that you’ve been unceremoniously defriended, blocked and publicly moaned about on your former “friend’s” wall (the modern day version of calling everyone in your address book to badmouth someone, even if you don’t mention them by name), for apparently, this is what we do when friendship 2.0 goes sour.

So, how do we go about the nasty business of ending friendship these days? With the magical click of a few buttons, of course. An “unfollow” here, a “block” there, and presto, the direct connection is virtually severed. They can no longer see your comments on the profiles of mutual – often virtual – friends and you can’t see theirs. In many cases, they live in some far-flung corner of the world, so you’re not likely to run into them in your local café or pub. If you play your cards right, you might even be able to pretend that they never even existed, that you never willingly invited them into your world. Except, of course, that you did.

So, how have your online friendships fared?

It’s amazing how memories are frozen in your mind; how specific moments surrounding an incident are remembered so clearly. Twelve years ago tomorrow (January 20^th), we lost our first son. While much of that time remains a blur, there are certain things I haven’t forgotten – random acts of kindness, random events, random thoughts that crossed my mind…

Random acts of kindness…

• Just a few hours after Elad died, I was standing outside the hospital entrance and ran into one of the young doctors. He’d not only treated Elad in the ICU, he had also been especially friendly and kind to us. I’ll never forget the way he just stood there and hugged me when I began to cry uncontrollably. I’ve never forgotten his name or his act of kindness.
• I barely remember the funeral itself. One of the only things I remember is how tightly my friend Grace squeezed my hand for the duration of the ceremony and the burial, and how grateful I was to have her there, holding my hand like that.
• One of the most incredible acts of kindness I can remember from that time actually took place once I’d already returned to work. It was more than a month later, and I was still in such pain, trying to muddle through. Someone in the office had given birth and brought the baby in for a visit. Needless to say, it killed me. I will never forget how my friend Lesly assessed the situation, suddenly decided she needed something from home and that I had to go with her. She saved my sanity that day, and I’m not even sure she realized how much. Twelve years later, I’m still grateful. Thanks, Les.

I’m guessing there were others – there’s no way I could have gotten through that darkest period of my life without the people around me. I’m not quite sure what I did to deserve such amazing friends, but thank you all.

I’ve probably blocked out many of the memories from that time, and of course, there others that are too painful to talk about. Here are just a few random events I feel I can share, though I must admit that I’m not sure why some of these are easier than others…

• We were staying in a special “apartment” in the hospital designed for parents of patients, as we did on several occasions during Elad’s hospitalization. This time we knew the situation was very bad, and neither of us wanted to leave. The call from the ICU came during the night and we made our way downstairs. I want to say that we were preparing ourselves, but really, how can you prepare yourself to face the death of your child? Elad was disconnected from far too many machines and we were left alone in the room with him to say goodbye. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget how it felt to hold him for the last time…
• As soon as I could, I phoned Grace to tell her what had happened. Once I’d said her name into the phone, I could no longer speak, and silently handed the phone to my husband, who shared our devastating news.
• At the time, I was fortunate enough to work with the most compassionate, supportive group of people I’ve ever come across in a workplace. I waited until the next day to give them the news, knowing that a big company party had been planned for that evening and I didn’t want to ruin it for them. I’m proud to be able to say that twelve years later, I can still call many of those amazing people my friends.

Random thoughts and feelings…

• After we were called down to the ICU that last night, while we were waiting to be allowed in to see him, I remember thinking that we should inquire about organ donation, but the doctors never mentioned it. In the end, I forgot to ask. I regret that, and have had my own organ donor card ever since.
• A sadness that I can’t even begin to describe, mixed with overwhelming relief. Relief that Elad’s suffering was finally over and relief that we no longer had to watch him suffer, that we no longer had to be in that place where our lives ground to a halt.
• I remember wondering if I would ever be able to smile again, if I would ever be able to laugh again. At the time, both seemed impossible. I can remember walking around, watching people go about their daily business and thinking that it seemed absolutely surreal.

I cannot believe that twelve years have passed, nor can I believe all that’s happened since. I am in awe of the journey that we’ve been on and of those who chose to accompany us along the way. I cannot find the words I need to appropriately thank you for all you’ve done, but I will say that often, there have been times that I would not have gotten through on my own, without you. And I am grateful.

Roaring like a fire
So intense the flame
As fires prone to burning out
It never stays the same

People come and go
Friendships lost and found
They enter and they leave a mark
Then leave without a sound

That’s not to say it’s all for naught
For each a lesson brings
Of life and love and thoughts unknown
And many wondrous things

But still a twinge of sadness felt
Tugging at your heart
Left with just the memories
When people grow apart

I look in the mirror, hoping to see
A glimmer, a spark, of the things that you see
Don’t think I’m so special – no more so than you
It’s not who I am, it’s not what I do

That isn’t to say I’m not ok with my lot
Ever so grateful for all that I’ve got
My talents and gifts, such as they are
I never imagined they’d take me so far

And that girl on the inside, she’s really quite shy
Unsure of herself and questioning why
You think as you do, then tell her as such
She starts to believe, but not very much

For deep down inside, it’s hard to agree
With all that you say and all that you see
Especially when all I can see is… Me

One day last winter, shortly after the Israeli military began attacking Gaza, I received an email from a producer at the BBC World Service. Someone there had found my blog, liked what they read, and wondered if I’d be interested in keeping a series of audio diary entries for a radio show called “The World Today“. The answer was, of course, yes. I blogged about that initial contact in this blog entry, the audio diary clips can be found by clicking this link to the BBC World Service website, and the text of those clips can be found here.

At the end of November, I was contacted once again and asked if I’d be prepared to do a two-minute roundup of the past year – referred to in BBC-speak as an “audio postcard”, summarizing a few of the events that touched our lives, and how those events have affected me. It wasn’t easy. Trying to summarize just one day in Israel in two minutes is hard enough, but twelve months? I don’t think I’ve ever been so ruthless in editing and cutting my own words as I was with this essay, paring it down to the bare minimum while trying to retain my original voice, and I’m still not sure how well I succeeded.

In any event, my clip was broadcast on the BBC World Service this morning. It can be found by clicking this link and selecting the “01 Jan 10 AM” podcast. What follows below is the text. This essay was written especially for the BBC World Service.

**********

My name is Liza Rosenberg. I live in a small town near Hadera, Israel.

In Israel, there are always stories making global headlines. Our February elections resulted in one of the most disturbing governments I can remember. I’m troubled by the inclusion of primarily right-wing parties, and angered that our foreign minister heads a far-right party whose election slogan was “no loyalty, no citizenship”.  The UN investigation looking into the Gaza incursion generated tremendous controversy, with many Israelis – myself included – questioning the legitimacy of both the report and of mission head Richard Goldstone.

While local stories making waves globally obviously affect us, there are others that capture our attention but seemingly garner almost no outside interest. In Jerusalem, there have been ongoing clashes between members of the ultra-orthodox community and the municipality over the Sabbath openings of several businesses.

As fractious as Israeli society can be, there are also issues that draw us together. For instance, an outpouring of public protest forced the government to soften its stance regarding the status and deportation of African refugees as well as children of illegal migrant workers. We’re united in our desire to see kidnapped soldier Gilad Shalit return to his family, though we’re at odds over the cost. We grieved over the loss of Israeli astronaut Ilan Ramon’s son in a training accident, yet we are divided over whether bereaved parents and spouses should be forced to decide if their children will be allowed to serve in combat roles.

As for me, I’m doing my best to raise my son to be respectful of the other, no matter who the other may be. I explain that it is okay to disagree with ideas, but to always show respect for the individual. When he asks if I hate certain politicians, for even at the age of five he’s begun to develop an awareness of public figures, I tell him that I do not hate the person, but rather, that I dislike his opinions. And, while I often despair of local events, I allow myself to believe that I am giving my son the tools to work towards a better future.

She thinks of words that never were said
Of phrases and thoughts still trapped in her head
Of gestures and opportunities lost
Of wasted chances and emotional cost

She thinks of the memories spanning so many years
Of laughter and joy, and yes, even tears
Of fun and of games, and of marvelous things
Of moments forgotten that tragedy brings

She thinks of his life, so full and so long
Of how it is them who now must be strong
Of loved ones who visit and try not to cry
Of heartbreaking sorrow and saying goodbye

She thinks of time, how it always runs out
Of all that is certain, of all that she doubts
Of tasks left undone at the end of the day
Of love that remains as life slips away

Unbelievably, especially to me, I’ve been maintaining this blog for more than four-and-a-half years. I’ve covered a variety of topics and used a multitude of words and tags, and in doing so, managed to create a situation where people have stumbled across my blog by googling some rather interesting terms. What follows below is a list of the most popular (including the number of times the term was used), which I’ve interspersed with commentary as “necessary”.

little ass 924
In total, there have been 1,143 hits from several variations of this term, including ten from people who had trouble spelling the word “little”. While I find it very disturbing to think that there are so many people out there who are potentially trying to find child pornography (my interpretation of the little ass phenomenon), it makes me smile to think how disappointed they all must be when this search term brings them to a post I wrote about Israel’s former prime minister, Ehud Olmert.

something something 167
Rather obvious, no?

little asses 155

buzz 111
My son went through a Buzz Lightyear/Toy Story phase, which resulted in several blog posts on the subject. These posts can be found here, here, here and here.

out and about 107
Refers to this blog category.

birthday wishes 88

buzz lightyear 75

letter f 72
I admit it. I taught my son the “f” word.  It wasn’t intentional, obviously, but clearly, I’m not perfect. The first time it happened was when my computer crashed several years ago. I swore three times in succession, which was quickly followed up by a toddler’s voice calling out “puck! puck! puck!” before dissolving into delighted laughter (his, not mine. Ok, maybe mine too…). I’m guessing the large number of hits is the result of this blog post, though.

liza Rosenberg 47
Also rather obvious, I should think…

littleass 43

tagged 43

nachal hakibbutzim 40

you know your from florida when 34
Refers to this blog post.

80s 33
For just over a year, I wrote a series of blog entries that I titled 80s Music Video Sunday. Lots of memories, lots of music.

Something 32

jo jo was a man 32
My son is a Beatles fan. Even today, whenever we get in the car, his first request is that we put on a Beatles CD. Few things bring me greater pleasure than listening to him singing along to the Beatles. His favorite song is “Get Back“, and he is not averse to suddenly calling out, “Get back, Loretta!”, even if he’s not listening to the song. I blogged about his love affair with this song here. As you can see from this list, he’s not the only one who likes “Get Back”.

jojo was a man 31

yalla kadima 31
Back in December 2005, I wrote this post (in rhyme, no less) about the emergence of the then-fledgling Kadima party and the unexpected rise of Amir Peretz (who I referred to as “Mr Mustache”) to the leadership of Israel’s Labor party. Amir Peretz has since had a rather expected fall from the leadership position, and the Kadima party still acts like a party that hasn’t formulated any positions.

somethingsomething 23

ralph macchio 23
I mentioned Ralph Macchio in this 80s Music Video Sunday blog entry.

jojo was a man who thought he was a lone 20

lactation specialist 20
Ummm… No clue, really.

buzz lightyear Disneyland 20

happy birthday wishes 19

wishes 18

f 17

something something blog 17

the letter f 17

jojo was a man who thought 15

pregnant ladies 14
Most of the hits regarding pregnancy seem to come from India. Don’t ask me why…

will you still need me will you still fe 13

very little ass 11

bilingualism 11
This one’s easy, as I’ve written several posts about raising a bilingual child.

litle ass 10

how well do you know me questionnaire 10

left wing Zionism 9
This post was originally written at the request of a newspaper for a special supplement. After it was written, the editors decided to kill all op-ed pieces.

jojo was a man who 9

secular Zionism 9

ralph macchio karate kid 8

حرف a 8
Ummm…

Liza 8

wishes for birthday 8

jojo was a man lyrics 8

thank you again 8
I’m guessing this search term has to do with this post (as “Thank You Again” is the title), written back in July.

lactation 7

tel yehudah song 7
My old summer camp. Hurrah!

jojo was a 7

archive note music 7

lizarosenberg 7

buzz Disney 6

Up next. Some of the more interesting and unusual search terms…

Forgive me for being in a poetry mood lately. I’m not sure what brought it on, though I have to say that I’m enjoying it tremendously. I find I’m so intensely drawn to the poems I’ve been writing, much more so than I’m drawn to my usual essays and other posts, articles, and so on. I’m not sure what’s up with that – it’s very much an emotional outlet I suppose…

In any event, I imagine I’ll be sharing some of them here, though others are far too personal and are shown only to a very select “audience”, if at all…

**************

Elusive

She wished upon a star, shining in the night
She wished upon a penny, gleaming in the light
The star turned into stars and the penny into pence
Hoping for a sign, something that made sense

Not sure what she was looking for
Not knowing what she’d find
Answers were elusive
In both her heart and mind

She struggled deep inside herself
Searching for a clue
Not knowing what was real
Not knowing what was true

The only thing she knew
It became so very clear
That which proves elusive
May be answers that she fears.

Several weeks ago, I asked readers to, well, ask me anything. Some of the questions I received were serious, while others were of a lighter nature. The questions and answers are below. If you’ve got any more, ask away!

Do you ever think about moving back to the US with hubby and child, and why/why not? (Maria)
We’ve definitely thought about it, and even began to fill out the green card paperwork. Timing is everything, though, as the global economy started tanking, and we abandoned the idea, at least for the time being. Interestingly enough, as I started dealing with the paperwork, I also started questioning whether I truly wanted to go. Even when I think that day-to-day life would probably be easier there and that I’d be able to provide my son with so many opportunities that aren’t available in Israel, I’ve generally got a pretty decent life here. I’ve got amazing friends, and despite all the problems, I do love the country. Whenever I’m in the US, I think about how wonderful it would be to stay, yet once I’m back in Israel, I feel like this is where I want to be. I suppose I will always feel pulled in the other direction, no matter where I am.

Or maybe without hubby and/or child? (Yoel)
Ummm…

Are you happy? Genuinely happy? (Mohamed)
To be honest, I don’t know. There are definitely people who/things that make me happy. My son makes me happy. My friends make me happy, though I wish some of them lived closer or that I could see them more frequently. Writing makes me happy. My profession doesn’t make me happy, but it’s not always easy to change when you have certain responsibilities. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have things that don’t frustrate me on a regular basis, and during the past six months or so, I’ve felt like I’m being pulled in different emotional directions. That being said, I’m mostly grateful for who and what I have in my life, even when I wish that some aspects could be different from what they are now.

Do you have any regrets – and what are they? (Helen)
One of my biggest regrets is professional. I wish I’d studied either journalism or taken some other writing-related path in university. Instead, I studied sociology which, while interesting, did nothing for me professionally. I came to Israel with no job experience, took jobs where native English was the main requirement (mainly administrative), and if I got lucky, the ability to write was considered an advantage.

I continued to gain work experience and move in certain professional directions, mostly because I could, though not necessarily out of any particular interest in the field. Today I feel trapped. It’s very frustrating to turn around in your late 30s and realize that you never should have denied yourself the chance to try to do what you love, and starting over from the scratch at age 41 in an area known for almost scandalously low pay is scary, especially when you have so many responsibilities. Now I’m constantly juggling, working full-time, writing when I can and trying to be the best mom I can be to my son. It’s not easy!

As for personal regrets… I’ve had a few…

If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there, why do people talk about it anyway??? (Nicole)
Hmmm… Because they can?

What is your most embarrassing moment which involves Stephanie Freid? (Benji)
Not sure I’ve got one, Benji. What’s yours? Stephanie, care to weigh in on this one?

What is the worst job interview you’ve ever had? What made it horrible? (Jill)
Tough question, Jill! I’ve had so many job interviews over the years. I can tell you about the type of job interview I hate the most, though. Whenever I’ve gone on a job interview, in addition to the obvious component of the interviewer trying to size up whether or not I’m a suitable addition to the company, I see it as my opportunity to assess whether or not the company is right for me. The interviewer should, while asking the important questions, also be doing his or her best to cast a positive light on the company for my sake, and I don’t always feel that happening. I’ve had far too many interviews where the interviewers do absolutely nothing to convince me that this is a place where I should want to work, and even interviews where I feel like the interviewer is almost purposely going out of their way to put me in a difficult spot. When this happens, even when I’m invited back, I decline and stop the process. I’ve done this on several occasions. I need to get a good vibe from the start, and if I don’t, well, it’s difficult to put my first impressions aside. Whenever I’ve avoided my gut instincts in these situations, I’ve usually regretted it later.

Which three historical figures do you most respect and admire? (Stephanie)
Wow, Stephanie. Tough one! One would have to be Golda Meir, not necessarily for her politics, but rather for the fact that she accomplished so much and managed to go farther in Israeli politics than any other woman has since then. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to come up with others, but no single individual comes to mind. I have great admiration and respect for people who have effected positive change despite the obstacles placed before them, people like Martin Luther King or Rosa Parks, leaders in the feminist movement, the equal rights movement, civil rights leaders, etc. I’m also in awe of my paternal grandparents, who left Russia, made their way to Argentina, and eventually settled in the US. My grandfather escaped from the army, and at one point, my grandmother talked a firing squad out of killing him. I’m in awe.

What sort of stuff would you like to blog about more but don’t for whatever reason? (Aviv)
Hmmm… I’m not sure there’s too much that I’ve made a conscious effort not to write about, though I do make an effort to protect certain aspects of my private life. You won’t find blog posts about my work, as I believe that would be unethical (not to mention stupid, given that I don’t blog anonymously). I also tend to write more about my thoughts and opinions as opposed to my activities unless something special has happened. I just don’t think that my day-to-day life is blog fodder, and I’m not one of those “tell all” bloggers who’s prepared to expose everything that goes on in their lives to people they don’t know. Believe it or not, I’m far too private for that, not to mention far too shy.

I also tend write a lot less about politics and current events than I’ve done previously, though if something really bothers me, I’m probably going to rant about it here. Otherwise, I think I’m just burned out on that stuff, and can’t usually be bothered to summon up the energy to deal with it.

I love to write about my son, but I’m also very conscious of not wanting to be categorized as a “mommy blogger”, since there are other topics that I enjoy writing about as well.

Most of all, though, I wish I had the time and energy to blog as frequently as I once did. I keep hoping to get my groove back, and I’m really impressed by other bloggers who have also been blogging for years, yet still manage to maintain a certain level of frequency that I haven’t been able to do. Still, I’ve been writing this blog for four-and-a-half years now, so I suppose that’s also an accomplishment of sorts.

I put my hands about his waist and lift him way up high.
He flings his arms around my neck and looks me in the eye.
“I love you”, says the little boy, solemn and sincere.
Then suddenly his face lights up as he grins from ear to ear.

A favorite song* begins to play and I’m shaken from my trance.
The little boy looks up and asks, “Mommy, want to dance?”
He takes my hand in his, and then he hugs me tight.
We move around in circles, swaying left and right.

I hold him close, the little boy – my lips against his hair.
Unable to contain my joy – an answer to a prayer.
“I love you too,” I whisper, and kiss him on the head.
He snuggles in my arms as I carry him to bed.

* The song is called “Angels Collide“, by the brilliant singer-songwriter Paul Abro.