This was a short time after my grandmother passed away, and immediately I thought about her, and how much I want her back too. A couple of weeks ago, and just two and a half months after my grandmother’s death, my grandfather followed her, and now Airplanes makes me cry even more. I want them back.

My grandparents were nothing like the grandfather in Airplanes. They were not well educated, and I doubt they ever looked up anything in an encyclopaedia. Yet, they went through many difficulties in life, and they did everything in their power to care for their family, and make sure their children and grandchildren will never have to suffer and will never go hungry like they did.

Their education was cut short when World War II broke out, and they fled their home in Poland eastbound. My grandmother was only 16 at the time, and her mother thought the Nazis will come after members of the local communist party, so she sent my grandmother off to her sister in Moscow. Little did they know that not long afterwards the entire family will be murdered for being Jews. My grandfather also fled to Russia and joined the Red Army, only to be dismissed a year later, when they found out he was a Jew. That was where they met. I would have liked to tell you the story about how they fell in love while working hard in a remote kolkhoz, but they never did. According to my grandmother, the fact that they were the only Jews in the kolkhoz was a good enough reason for them to tie their lives together. Yet, they never left each other’s side until the end.

After the war, my grandparents moved back to Poland, where my mother was born. Only one day after the birth of their first child, and with anti-Semitism still abound, their neighbour made it clear to my grandfather that he intends on killing the entire family. That night, they packed up any belongings they could carry, and with their baby girl they fled, spending two years in refugee camps across Europe, until they could finally move to Israel. Upon their arrival, my grandfather was immediately recruited to fight in The War of Independence.

It took a few more years until they managed to settle down in their own home. They brought up their three children, and then helped bringing up their grandchildren, with a constant emphasis on survival. As a child, I was told many times that I better finish everything that was on my plate and appreciate it, since they were once hungry. I grew up knowing that food must never be thrown away, and that family photos must be taken in every occasion, because one day they will be the only memory to survive. To this day, I carry around a big bag everywhere I go, with anything that I might need “just in case”. From my grandmother I also learned the need to always be able to provide for myself, and not count on favours from others, an important lesson in survival.

My grandparents old age was not pretty. Five years ago my grandmother had a stroke that left her unable to take care of herself. My grandfather’s deterioration with the Alzheimer’s that was eating up his brain did not help either. During their final years they needed constant attention, and were constantly assisted by an amazing caregiver. A couple of years ago, while still being able to speak, my grandmother said that she had enough. She did not want to just survive anymore. She was fully aware of her body’s betrayal, and she did not want to take part in it. The only pleasure left for her was the sweet pasties she ate despite her diabetes, but apart from that, life was a pain. By the time she died, my grandfather’s dementia took over to a level that did not enable him to assimilate her absence. It took two months until he finally stopped asking where she was, and started telling the people around him that she passed away. And then, finally understanding that my grandmother was gone, he had a heart attack in the middle of the night, and joined the woman with whom he survived his entire adult life.

During the past couple of years, I only saw my grandparents twice. Last December, after my last visit, I knew that it was probably the last time I would ever see them. On the one hand, I do wish I had spent more time with them, but on the other, I am happy that my memory of my grandparents is from their better years. Being far away means that I did not get to see their final deterioration. It also means that I could not bid them farewell properly. I did not attend their funerals, and did not take part in the Shiva. My only way of dealing with my grief is to listen to Airplanes on repeat.

This time I have no pictures, even though I did stand in good view of the stage. The main reason is, as expected, the fact that my phone camera is only good outdoors. A fact that was well proved by my attempt at photography in the New Pornographers show. (Do I hear a “I really want a camera for my birthday”?)

During the show I kept thinking about the previous time I visited The Madison Theatre in Covington, KY, and considered the difference. This week’s show had everything the Arctic Monkeys’ show lacked, from a good support act to eye contact. Starting with a pretty good opening show from Pomegranates, an up-and-coming local band from Cincinnati, with a promising future. The only thing they did not have is a space to move on. Being confined to the tiny space left for them on the stage clearly constrained their ability to stream their energy as they probably wished to do. I dare say that I will be happy to see them on a big stage one day.

Then came a wonderful main act that was worth waiting for ’till late. Spoon are true professionals. They have been around for a while, and they definitely know how to satisfy a crowd. The show consisted of quite a lot of older material, and some songs from the new album, Transference. It was obvious that the band was having fun, just as much as the audience were. The excitement was well transmitted, and everyone was happy. And by everyone, I mostly mean me.

The only weird moment of the evening came as I joined the crowed flowing out of the venue, when a woman came over and grabbed my trousers to admire my lovely red shoes. I think she thought I was mad when I told her they were vegetarian.

New Pornographers, originally uploaded by Deviant Brainwave.

This photo is one of the most vivid proofs that it may be time for me to get a proper camera. I am not complaining about my phone’s camera – it is really good for a phone, but it does have its limitations.

It was good to get away last weekend. We finally took advantage of the relatively short flight between Cincinnati and Civilization and spent the weekend in New York, catching up with friends, enjoying the city, and in E.’s case, still watching every match of the World Cup.

One of the highlights was watching The New Pornographers at Terminal 5. It would have been even better if it was in a better venue – the bad acoustics and difficulty of watching the stage did reduce my enjoyment considerably. However, The Dodos gave a good opening, and The New Pornos themselves… well… they cannot be anything but AMAZING. To make up for lost decibels, I have been listening repeatedly to the NPR podcast of the New Pornographers at the 9:30 club in Washington DC that was recorded just a few days later. And yes, there have been talks about visiting the 9:30 sometime in October. Watch this space.

Visqueen Soundcheck, originally uploaded by Deviant Brainwave.

Bands that I want to see rarely make it to Cincinnati. At most, they would stop at Columbus, a two hours drive away. Most likely, they would skip Ohio altogether. Clearly, this is not a major music destination. However, from time to time we do get surprises, like Gomez, Stellastarr*, or Arctic Monkeys. The latest was a combination of music and a Cincinnati Downtown discovery.

Last weekend, Downtown Cincinnati was visited by a host of food lovers for Taste of Cincinnati. A celebration of food and entertainment, very similar to what we recognize in Israel as Ta’am Hair, but without the pushy Arsim, and with less noisy music so that conversation is still on the menu.

However, I did not go there for the food. I went for Visqueen. I was looking forward to hearing them after hearing so much about them on All Songs Considered, mostly from Stephen Thompson, and listening to the podcast of their SXSW 2010 set. They did not disappoint! Despite the heat, the early hour, and the small audience, Visqueen rocked big time! Literally! They communicated on a personal level, and delivered a set that would have made me jump if it wasn’t too hot to move. Yet, I shouldn’t complain, as they jumped and moved as if it was snowing. I wonder if they got their promised Graeter’s ice cream after the show.

Still, it made no sense that Cincinnati had so few Israelis. After all, this is an important Jewish centre, and we always thought Israelis were everywhere. The only group we knew of was one run by Chabad, and since they are not our cup of tea, we didn’t think the people that are related to them might be.

So we took action and started a group on Facebook, to serve as a virtual home for Israelis in Cincinnati, or those who would like to befriend the likes of us. Surprisingly, the group grew exponentially, and as I write this, it has 31 members! I am not sure all of them exactly answer the description of “Israelis in Cincinnati”, but it’s a nice effort.

We also tried to move the group from the virtual world to the real one by organizing a meet-up. Unfortunately, the first one had to be cancelled in the last minute because of Cincinnati’s typical and unpredictable bad weather. The second attempt was this weekend, and although only one person we didn’t know before showed up, I still consider it to be a success. Meeting one new person is a step in the right direction!

I do hope to get to meet more of those 31 people, and make more friends. It will certainly improve our life here, and maybe even make us want to stay.

We have been living in Hyde Park since we moved to Cincinnati (can you believe it was almost two years ago?!). It’s a lovely neighbourhood, with quiet tree-lined streets, people who great each other, and lively entertainment in the form of multiple bars, cafés, and restaurants. Not surprisingly, we didn’t feel much of a need to go further. Add to that the frequent emails from the University of Cincinnati Police warning about muggings and shootings and asking for information, and you got yourself a pair of scared E. and me, too afraid to get anywhere near the city centre at night.

Our perceptions were changed last weekend, when a friend insisted on celebrating her birthday in a restaurant downtown. The existence of good restaurants downtown was not new to us, we just didn’t see much of a need to bother ourselves to get to them. However, that evening we found that Downtown Cincinnati has more to offer! Despite our belief that the entire city shuts its lights around 22:00, we found that there are actually places that open late, and people go out to bars, clubs, and restaurants at these hours. For E., this was a reminder of the things he likes about Tel Aviv. For me, this was a glimpse of hope, that there may be a chance that this city will grow on me after all.

So, my brotha and I have been chasing around all day. Now I’m knackered. I think my brotha is tired too, but for some reason he is still strangely alert.

What was that?

I’ll check this out.

Naaa… Can’t be bothered…

Itch, itch, itch

Will you stop taking my picture? That was private business!

I’ve had it with her!

I’m outta here!

Fountain Square, originally uploaded by Deviant Brainwave.

Fountain Square on a beautiful spring afternoon gives the illusion that Cincinnati is a city that has something good to offer. (The homeless people were kept out of the frame).

Independence, originally uploaded by Deviant Brainwave.

Today I did something uncharacteristically patriotic. I bought an Israeli flag and hung it out on our balcony (with E.’s gracious help, after all, I can’t reach that high), to honour Israel’s Memorial Day and Independence Day.

I’m still not sure what it was that pushed me to do it. Some strange impulse, I guess. It probably goes along with our search in the past year and a half or so to find the company of like-minded Israelis in Cincinnati.

E. is very surprised with me. He still hasn’t decided whether this is a positive or a negative surprise. Mostly, he is worried about the fact that I still did not get my insurance card for my new health insurance, which will be a major problem if we get beaten up for hanging an Israeli flag. Can I be considered as taking a risk for my country?