Issue 138

ISSUE 138 5 Cheshvan 5774/2013

HERE TODAY… STILL HERE TOMORROW… BUT POSSIBLY

The Man Behind the Ark DESTINATION DIALOGUE

Issue 138.indd 1

Play Ball

DIRECTION DRAMA

Lips

12 THINGS

10/4/13 10:46 AM

Published by Ami Magazine Editor-in-Chief: Esty Weiss News Editor: Avrohom Yaakov Tarkieltaub Production Manager: Dina Hagar Photo Editor: Eli Koenig Executive Coordinator: Zack Blumenfeld Illustrator: T. Aramada Design: Rachel Adler Layout: Shana Baila Kohn Write to us at Ami Magazine, 1575 50th St., 3rd Floor, Brooklyn, N.Y. 11219 Call us at: 718-534-8800 Fax: 718-484-7731 Email us at: esty@amimagazine.org

ISSUE 138 5 Cheshvan 5774/2013

6 real life

fun stuff

13 GONE THE NEXT DAY

Epecuén

14 target taste

23 meet the milsteins

FEATURE

8

18 26

photo pullout

news

DESTINATION DIALOGUE

museum of marvels

play

4

THE MAN BEHIND THE ARK

10

disappeared

16 24

like mother, like daughter

28

12 things you may not know about lips

30

HERE IS A SNEAK PEEK AT OUR NEXT EDITION! TRAIN CAKE

AUTUMN

TARGET TASTE

12 THINGS...

CRIME FIGHTERS FEATURE

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n

missio

mail

Hi, Everyone,

If you’ve always fantasized about living in a really huge house, I have just the place for you—a skyscraper. You can actually have an entire skyscraper all to yourself, for a pittance! Hey, you can even bring some friends and for a very reasonable price they can each have skyscrapers for themselves too. No need to rush to pack your bags for fear that someone else will grab them first; these tremendous buildings have been sitting empty for quite some time.

If you’re thinking these skyscrapers are located in an unpleasant place like Iraq, you’re off the mark, but not way off. You see, you’d totally be forgiven for thinking these buildings were located in a war-torn country.

Reporters who have surveyed the city they’re located in by air have commented that it looks like a war zone.

But surprise, surprise! This place is in the United States.

You may have guessed by now this is Detroit we’re talking about. About one third of the city is already empty, 78,000 homes lie abandoned, over 1.1 million people have fled the city that police warn is an “Enter at your own risk” place and as many as 40 percent of the street lights don’t work. (No word on how many street signs are up, but with 47 percent of the population “functionally illiterate,” does it really matter?)

Yes, Detroit is dying a slow death and skyscrapers lay abandoned. But it isn’t the only city to slowly (or not so slowly) disappear. Turn to the feature for more.

Waiting to hear from you,

Dear Aim!,

Dear Aim!,

Hi. I enjoy reading Aim! very much.

Thank you for the most amazing, interesting, stupendous, fascinating, terrific, super, fantastic, great, fabulous magazine in the world! The list could go on and on, but I don’t have enough room on my paper to write it!

In reference to the famous picture of the Chofetz Chaim which the Aim! questioned the authenticity of: My great-grandfather Rabbi Mordechai Londinski (whom I am named after), was a next door neighbor of the Chofetz Chaim. Reb Mordechai was a son of Reb Moshe, who was the rosh yeshivah together with the Chofetz Chaim. He told my father that the famous picture of the Chofetz Chaim is exactly the way he remembers him. Actually, we have the original sefer in Yiddish from Rabbi Moshe Yosher printed in 1936, which was three years after the petirah of the Chofetz Chaim. Reb Yosher was very close to the Chofetz Chaim, and has a haskamah from Reb Chaim Ozer on the sefer. The name of the sefer is Dos Leben fun Chofetz Chaim translated later by ArtScroll. The picture that the Aim! printed is taken from the first page in the sefer, where he explains that it’s the passport of the Chofetz Chaim taken in 1925.

(Notice he is holding his hat in his hand for the passport picture.)

Rebbetzin Zacks’ son told my father that of course the picture is his grandfather. We have a copy of the picture that was given out by the Chofetz Chaim’s yeshivah. Attached is a copy of the picture distributed by the yeshivah of the Chofetz Chaim for fundraising; notice the inset!

Yours truly, Mordechai C., age 13 Thanks so much for sharing, Mordechai C.! What a special neighbor your elter zeidy had—he must’ve been quite special himself. Your evidence seems quite strong though we do have sources (including talmidim and people who say they heard directly from Rebbetzin Zacks) that claim the opposite, so it’s definitely quite the mystery. We wish we could've printed the picture but it was not print quality. Keep in touch. —Esty

In Issue 134 someone wrote and asked to stop "Hoffman’s Hotel." If you stop it I will be very upset. It’s my second favorite part in the magazine (my first is "Mexican Ransom"). I really enjoy it even though I’m already 12. The characters are very cute and the stories teach very good lessons in funny, creative ways. Kids of all ages can really benefit from the important lessons. I hope it will always go on.

I’m waiting anxiously for the Succos issue!

Sincerely, An Aim! and "Hoffman’s Hotel" fan, Libby Antch Many fans were disappointed that “Hoffman’s Hotel” ended—there were even reports of real tears (Esty Frankel, we’re talking about you!)—but we have this to say: Remember how sad some of you were about “Agent Emes” ending? (Shimmy Schreiber, we’re talking about you now!) “Mexican Ransom” turned out to be not that bad a replacement, did it?  Sometimes the things we think are bad turn out to be awesome. Let us know! ("Destination: World," our new column, starts next week.

Hooray!)—Esty

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s w ne ator navig

TURKMENISTAN

IRAQ

IRAN

AFGHANISTAN

By Eli Katz Hassan Rouhani

OBAMA, I’D RUN

as a matter

of fact • Iran and the United States have not had diplomatic relations since the Islamic revolution of 1979.

Obama talking to Rouhani.

H

ere’s a joke that’s making the rounds in Iran: Contrary to news reports, Rouhani was actually the one to call Obama first in their headline-grabbing 15-minute chat last week. Then Obama told him, ”It’s better that I call you since you are under sanctions and your call may cost a lot.” (I’m impressed the Iranians are claiming Obama’s that much of a mentsch. Hey, wait! He’s responsible for the sanctions remaining there in the first place!)

If you don’t get the joke to begin with, it’s ’cause you’ve never had to live under sanctions, the punishment Iran’s been getting for being bad boys. International calls can cost a pretty penny when the world’s making you stand in the corner. There are 16 executive orders, 9 Congressional acts, and multiple international organizations involved in making sure the

SAUDI ARABIA

Iranians get the message that they’re being naughty. These rules (many economic) are making staples like sugar expensive and medicine scarce.

So just what have these troublemakers been doing to deserve all these sanctions? Oh, they’ve been very busy indeed, shelling out cash to fund terror attacks, threatening their neighbors, repressing their people, holding Americans against their will and developing nuclear weapons. In short, not the type of guys we want our pres spending time with. So what on earth was Obama doing, chumming it up on the phone with their newly “elected” president Rouhani? (A theocratic dictatorship, a dictatorship run by religious leaders, Rouhani’s election was as fair as, well, Putin’s.)

It seems the Iranians are finding the sanctions more than a bit of a pain in the neck lately and are now trying to

• This will shock you: 98 percent of the population of Iran are Muslims but only 2 percent are Arabs; the majority are Persians.

play the nice-guy card, reaching out to the enemy. The 15-minute phone call was supposed to be the first step toward easing 34 years of bad feelings between the countries, as the leaders promised to work together to find a comprehensive solution to their problems.

The news of the ice-breaker was greeted with great excitement, but then along came Israel’s President Benjamin Netanyahu who threw cold water on the excitement. Unlike Rouhani, he got to meet the president face-to-face, where he suggested that sanctions actually be tightened instead of eased unless Iran stops its nuclear program entirely.

Is this the first step to peace or the first step to the Iranians finishing a nuclear weapon as the world pats them on the back? Your guess is as good as mine.

Yeah, we’re both thinking the latter.

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tween news bizarre news

NO MONKEY BUSINESS Take a lesson from Patrick, a gorilla that’s been making trouble in the Dallas Zoo that’s been his home since 1995. His bad attitude’s been giving his keepers headaches from day one, with his aggressive stance and fighting with other gorillas. His only friend was a gorilla named Jabari—who not so coincidentally ended up attacking three visitors

and being “put down.”

It’s been a long time, but his keepers have finally had enough. He’s being booted from his home to make room for better behaved gorillas and sent to a facility known for handling gorillas with “behavioral issues.” Shape up or ship out.

Everyone’s got their breaking point.

Even for cute monkeys like you.

jewish news

RAV OVADYA YOSEF Ninety years ago four-year-old Ovadya Yosef emigrated from Baghdad to Eretz Yisrael in a move that would impact the world. His father opened a grocery store and young Ovadya was supposed to help out there—but all he did was learn, becoming a dayan at the young age of 20!

Today, Yidden all over the world

have joined in praying for the speedy recovery of Rav Ovadya Yosef. Tens of thousands gathered at the kosel to pray for his recovery, while numerous other, smaller prayer events were held. The Maran of the Sephardim, Rav Ovadya Yosef is considered the most influential Chareidi Rav, with hundreds of thousands of followers.

DON’T LOOK DOWN Leaping off France’s Eiffel Tower? Yawn. Zooming through a waterfall in the Swiss Alps?

Blaaaaaa. Leaping from the Tianmen Cave, a 100-foot-wide (30.5-meter) water-eroded slit in China’s Tianmen Mountain?

Blech.

Base jumper (Base jumpers leap from ridiculously high places.)

Jeb Corliss has completed over 2,000 ridiculous stunts, but his latest makes the others seem like child’s play. The bored daredevil decided to tackle a leap down the tiny fissure between the two peaks of the 2,677-foottall (816-meter) Mount Jianglang.

In a feat that even scared the daredevil himself, he leaped at 100 mph (161 kph) in his custommade wing suit, with the extreme danger of crashing into the mountains at his sides. His landing was safe, but this attention-lover has had his share of mishaps before: A

collision with a waterfall in South Africa once left him with a broken back, and he broke a leg after hitting a building in Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia.

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ion direct a

dram

PLAY BALL!

BY ELI KATZ

Simchy (Children are playing ball on a street in Warsaw.)

ZUNDEL (Gesturing to Shloimy, who is poised to throw the ball.) Shloimy, over here!

SIMCHY No, Shloimy, throw it to me!

SHLOIMY (Singing as he dribbles the ball.) Who’s it gonna be? Who’s it gonna be? Who’s it gonna be— SIMCHY Throw it already!

ZUNDEL Nu, throw it to me!

SHLOIMY Which one of you is going to get out now? Let’s see— SIMCHY NU! THROW! ZUNDEL THROW THE BALL! SHLOIMY I’m throwing it, I’m throwing it! (Dribbles some more and then suddenly stops.) Hey, Zundel, you’re out of the boundaries.

ZUNDEL No, I’m not.

SHLOIMY

Yes you are.

Zundel are you screaming at me?

SIMCHY I’m not screaming.

SHLOIMY

You are.

SIMCHY (In measured tones.) Please— throw—the—ball—already.

SHLOIMY I’m throwing it. Watch it go—1,2,3—Zundel, you’re still out of the boundaries.

ZUNDEL AND SIMCHY (Exasperatedly.)

THROW THE BALL. SHLOIMY (In a wounded tone.) Okay, okay! Why are you both so nervous? (He throws the ball. It sails right over the other boys’ heads, into a hole in the ground.)

SIMCHY Oh no!

ZUNDEL How are we going to get it out?

SHLOIMY It’s all your fault that it fell into the hole. I couldn’t concentrate where I was throwing it because of the yelling.

SIMCHY THROW IT ALREADY!

SIMCHY It’s nobody’s fault. Let’s just get it out.

SHLOIMY

ZUNDEL (Lying on the ground and ex-

(In a wounded tone.) Why

Shloimy

M

tending his arm into the hole.) I can’t reach it, it’s too deep.

SHLOIMY Move it to the side—I can get it out for sure.

ZUNDEL It’s impossible to reach.

SHLOIMY I can do it. Nu, move! (He lies down.) Oh, I can’t reach it.

SIMCHY We need to get some kind of stick. (He fetches a stick.) It’s too deep.

Nothing doing.

ZUNDEL Ugh! SHLOIMY It’s no use. The ball’s gone forever. May as well go home.

(Menachem passes by.)

MENACHEM What’s going on? Why do you look so upset?

SHLOIMY Our ball fell down this hole here. It’s unreachable now.

MENACHEM (Peering into the hole.)

Just a minute. (He leaves and returns with a bucket of water.)

SHLOIMY So nice of you to bring us some water. (Lifting the bucket to his lips.)

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a parzszhle pu

“Hooray! Totty said we are going to Philly!

We'll get to see Uncle Zevy!” Chedva and Mimi shrieked as they jumped up and down on the bed. “Hooray!!!”

!

“Not Philly, silly,” Yocheved, their older sister corrected them. “It’s Willy, as in Williamsburg. You wish we’re going to Philadelphia.”

“We are going to Willy, silly,” Chedva and Mimi squealed as they collapsed onto the bed giggling.

“I don’t know what you two are so excited about,” Libby grumbled as she walked into the room. “We go, like, every year. Tante Chava marries off a kid at least once a year.

Menachem

lech lecha This must be like, kid number 19, at least.”

“Why are you so grumpy?” Yocheved asked. “It’s so nice to get together for a simchah. And besides, we hardly ever get to see our cousins. I can’t wait to see everyone.”

“Well, I’m excited for the actual event, but I don’t know why we always stay in that dinky hotel.”

“Oh, please. We have a blast when we stay there. You’re stam in a bad mood. And besides, there is a reason why we stay there every year.”

Why do they return to that hotel?

Answer: One should not change the place where he stays. (Rashi 13:3) SHLOIMY WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING? Are you trying to drown the ball?! Menachem? Menachem! (Menachem has already left to fetch more water.)

MENACHEM (Pouring more water into the hole.) Yup. Here we go. (He fishes the ball out of the water.)

SHLOIMY (Mouth hanging open.) It’s a miracle! You’re a miracle worker! (Falls to his feet.) Tell me the secret ballretrieving water segulah!

MENACHEM It’s called flotation. Now if you don’t mind, I’m back to the beis midrash.

SIMCHY Have a ball!

⊙

(Menachem grew up to be the famous R’ Menachem Ziemba, the talmid chacham tragically murdered by the Nazis during the Warsaw Ghetto uprising.)

BASED ON TALES FROM OUR GEDOLIM

Issue 138.indd 7

a h c a l ha nge e chall

“I am completely famished,” Tzippy informed her friend. “I sure hope your house has some food. There is no way I can study like this. I can barely hear myself think above the rumbling of my stomach.”

Rina laughed. “Don’t worry; I’m sure my mother baked something.

You know she loves to bake.”

Sure enough, as the girls entered Rina’s house they were greeted by the delicious scent of freshly baked cookies.

Tzippy breathed deeply. “I could get full just by smelling this.”

“If that’s the case then let’s go straight to studying!”

“Kidding!!! I said I could, not would; please don’t torture your friend.

I’m in agony.”

“Okay, I was just teasing you,” Rina laughed as she brought a heaping

plate of cookies to the table.

“Was I hungry!” Tzippy said after she consumed a generous amount.

“Thanks—they were delicious!”

“Want anything else to eat?”

“No thanks—I’m stuffed.”

“Okay, I’ll just have some cherries,” Rina said as she reached for the fruit bowl. “We picked these on Sunday at a cherry orchard.

You must taste one.”

Tzippy made a berachah and popped one into her mouth.

“Mmm, they really are good, but I’m too full. I’m going to make an Al Hamichya and a Borei Nefashos before I explode.”

“No Borei Nefashos for you— you just had one cherry.”

“So? I still gotta make one.”

Why make a berachah after?

Answer: If one eats a whole fruit at once, one has to make a bracha achrona even if it’s not a kezayis. (Mishneh Berurah 210:6)

MENACHEM I didn’t bring it for drinking. (He pours it into the hole.)

7 10/4/13 10:47 AM

OVER THE HUMP There is a traditional sport in Turkey called camel wrestling, where camels from different villages wrestle each other in a bid to see whose camels truly are the greatest. An ancient Turkish tradition, today the sport is described as “boring,” as camels half-heartedly wrestle each other in matches that usually end in draws.

NEW ZEALAND’S “BRIDGE

BIG

SMALL

Now you see it, now you don't!

Northern Ireland’s Lake Loughareema has the very unique distinction of occasionally vanishing without a trace (it doesn’t get much smaller than that!). When holes at the bottom of the lake get plugged with mud, the lake fills up. But slowly the mud shifts and the entire lake drains itself out as if it had never existed!

No free rides: With 880,000 bicycles in a city of 800,000 residents, it’s not the bike traffic jams that irk the residents of Amsterdam most—it’s the lack of bike parking! With every tree and lamppost in town jammed with chained bikes, parking can be quite a challenge. Parking.

Grrrr.

BY TURX

to Nowhere” is actually…a bridge to nowhere! Of course it was originally built as a bridge to somewhere, and the bridge was built connecting two parts of a jungle together. But at some point the government decided that it wasn’t interested in populating that part of the jungle after all, and roads to the bridge were never built. The only way to get to the bridge is by sea, air or after a hike through dense jungle.

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AIRPLANES AT LEIPZIG’S Schkeuditz Airport land on a bridge that’s been built over a busy highway. (“Hi, this is your captain, reminding you to keep your seatbelt securely fastened until the plane has come to a complete stop on the other side of the toll booth. Thank you for flying with us and enjoy your stay.”)

SNAIL HOUSE

SAGUARO CACTUS

It takes between 50 to 75 years for a saguaro cactus to grow its first “arm.”

But don’t worry, there’s no rush. A saguaro can live over 200 years.

(One-armed cacti, be grateful. Some saguaro cacti called "spears" never grow any arms at all. Boohoo.)

You’ll never guess what Snail House looks like—hey, how did you know? Construction of Snail House took ten years (yes, they were going at a snail’s pace, very good) and its imaginative builder didn’t stop at the outside, installing funny heating radiators indoors in the form of a frog, a ladybug or a pumpkin.

GIFT CARDS Now if I could only find where my other 12 went...

Stores want you to buy gift cards because they hope you’re going to lose them. Right now there are believed to be over $30 billion worth of unredeemed gift cards in the United States!

Check your drawers!

BORROW MONEY FROM A PESSIMIST— THEY DON’T EXPECT IT BACK.

FIND BOARD GAMES BORING? How about being a piece on a board game? The game Parcheesi originated as a life-sized game played by royalty in India. Servants dressed in colorful costumes served as pawns.

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ion t a n i t des ue

dialog

T hE

E H T d eH I N

K r A

MaN B

Ss I

By N I

U NgE R

RaBBI aVROhOM RoSENbERG fROM mONSeY, nEW YoRK, hAS sOMEtHINg IMPoRTAnT iN CoMMOn W ITh NOAcH: eVeRYOnE DoUBTeD ThEM, BUT nEVErTHElESS tHEY bOTH bUILt AN aRK! AiM! cAUGhT uP WiTH RaBBI rOSEnBERg oN HiS FaN TAsTICaL TrAVeLINg A RK fOR tHE iNSIdE sCOOp ON hIS dELIgHTFuL tEIVaH ON wHEElS.

HoW OlD Is YOUr A RK? Well, it's in its second year of operation, but before that, I and my team of engineers worked for months and months to perfect the ark. It was a very challenging job, no one had ever built a traveling ark before—at least no one that I know of.

HaS AnYONe ELSe BUIlT An aRK aT AlL? I know of one. Not a traveling ark, a huge floating ark. It was built by a nonJew in Holland according to the specifications of the real ark. I have been on his ark and unfortunately found some displays offensive to frum Jews. My ark was made with frum Jews in mind, although I do have many secular visitors and guests on my ark as well. We accommodate all types: One display on board is a talking electronic moose that is preprogrammed to answer questions. For chasidish schools the moose answers all the questions in Yiddish!

Interactive signs are in Yiddish as well.

His ark in Holland is so big it cannot move anywhere on land, let alone down Thirteenth Avenue in Boro Park!

The good thing about my ark is that even while I drive it, it still looks like an ark and not just any old painted-over vehicle.

HoW LoNG dI D iT TaKE yOU tO bUILd THE aRK? Well, it felt like 120 years, but thanks to a loyal team we got to complete it in about two and a half years from the original concept to completion. We had to get all the kinks out. Ever heard of a traveling museum with interactive and delicate exhibits bouncing down the BQE? It’s not easy to design one.

I might add though, that I don’t think Noach had any help building his ark, because in the generation he lived in he certainly would have gotten ripped off and scammed.

WhERE hAS yOUR aRK bEEN? Primarily in the tri-state area. We have been to several camps and schools throughout the year. Some noteworthy stops were at Camp Simcha Special— both boys’ and girls’ sessions—and Ohel’s Camp Kaylee. We have been to a US army base—we were honored to be invited by an army chaplain—and it was a huge kiddush Hashem. Since we were so successful, other army bases are lining up to invite us. We started going to public libraries and public schools, and were also at the Lag B’Omer parade in Crown Heights.

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There are also huge plans for us to do a cross-country tour and to travel across America and Canada.

and always there to support and help me out with what’s needed. I am very grateful for that.

Is PaRSHaS NOaCH THE bUSIeST wEEK oF ThE YeA R oN yOUR aRK?

HoW Do PEOpLE rEACt WHEn tHEY fI RSt SEE yOUR aRK?

Yes, people have to book the year before! I joke around, saying I have a few Parshas Noachs. For me it lasts over three weeks. We do Parshas Noach 1, 2 and 3. There are only six days in Parshas Noach and everybody wants me around that week—and I still have not figured out a way to accommodate them all in one week.

WhAT dI D yOUR fAMIlY SaY wHEN yOU tOLD tHEM yOU wERE gOINg TO bUILd AN aRK? (Laughter). Noach and I had a lot in common. No one believed either of us that an ark would be built—except my family. My family believes and knows me to be very persistent. They believed it would happen; they just didn’t know when or how soon. Even though it didn’t take 120 years to make my ark a reality it felt way longer than that because of all the trials and tribulations.

My family was very involved. We spoke about things and they were great critics. Today, they are very proud of it

The first reaction is always “Wow!” Even when I can’t hear them, I can see them pointing and mouthing the word. One of the most frequent reactions I get when I drive past children or schools is kids “mooing” and “baaing”—the sounds of the pictures on the outside of the ark. I can pass by schools and see the kids mouthing animal sounds from the windows. But even adults are very interested in my ark. In fact, when the ark was in the planning stages it was parked in front of one of the fabricator’s locations, and after four different accidents involving cars that stopped to stare he asked me to please park it somewhere else!

It IS oNE aM AZiNG sIGHt. Everyone knows the story of Noach.

People often stop me on the street and say, “Hey, Noah, where are you going?”

Sometimes I get this comment: “Hey, what do you know that we don’t know?”

After Hurricane Sandy, people kept on asking me, “Where were you two weeks ago?”

I was once driving somewhere in a place I was unfamiliar with, and my GPS totally misled me. Maybe it does not know how to drive ark routes… I rolled down my window to get directions from a local postal worker and before I even opened my mouth he asked, “Are you looking for Mount Ararat?” (That’s where the original teivah was.) So I laughed and said, “Neh, I am coming from there.”

I sEE yOU'vE GoT A sENSe OF hUMOr ON bOARd. bUT wHAT eLSE iS On THE aRK? Where do I start? There are so many interesting exhibits. As soon as kids approach the ark they meet a Noach impersonator.

Then we have an electronic exhibit display showcasing sets of seven kosher animals and two non-kosher animals that were aboard the ark. They are activated by a button and as soon as someone presses it the animals begin walking into the teivah.

Then there is a model of the three floors of the teivah in great detail. In addition, I have another model showing the dimensions according to the Torah in the real true scale of the original ark. It took a lot of planning according to midrashim and other sources, so that it is most re-

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A gROUp TOUrING tHE ArK.

ThE ScALE mODEl OF tHE ArK.

ThE ANiM ALs. alistic.

I also have a turning display of the raven and the dove.

It shows how Noach sent out the raven and then how he sent out the dove and how he comes back with nothing.

Then the display turns and it shows the dove with an olive branch.

I have previously mentioned the moose that answers questions. I can customize it for particular visitors. It synchronizes the voice and movements of the mouth, and if you would come aboard it would say something like “Welcome to the Beautiful Ark, Mrs. Unger from Aim! magazine. Where have you been till now?”

I have a nice selection of animals for petting, including alpacas, sheep, goats, roosters, rabbits and ibex.

We also have a beautiful taxidermic animal display of those scary animals we don’t want to carry around alive, like lions and tigers. Those are live-looking stuffed animals—not teddy bears, but real live animal skins that are stuffed and set in a museum-like quality habitat setting.

Children can press a button and a simulated mabul occurs. Water runs down the windows of the ark so kids get a feel

"NoACH"

for what it may have looked like when the flood was going on.

Then there are carnival games with the ark theme. For example, there is a Whack-a-mole game, where you are supposed to bop the animals on the head so they don’t emerge.

We only allow two animals to emerge at a time, just like the two non-kosher animals that entered the teivah.

W eRE tHERe AN Y m AJOr cHALlENGeS WhILE yOU wERE sETTiNG uP ThESE eXhIBItS? One of the biggest challenges was to make this traveling museum unique and authentic according to the Torah.

In fact, one of the things the ark has is a huge fish tank underneath its floor to show that fish were not punished in the flood. It was difficult getting someone to design that—it was one of my biggest challenges and I love a challenge!

Ever heard of a fish tank underneath of

a vehicle driving down highways and bumpy roads? Don’t think so. I mean this took serious figuring out! Ever worked with artists and engineers?

They are a breed of their own, but they did the most marvelous job and I am very thankful.

DiD ThE AnIMAlS EvER dO tO YoU WhAT tHEY dI D tO NOaCH? aN Y iNJUrIES? (Laughter.) First of all, I feed the animals on time, and second, I make sure not to have any lions—real ones that is. I only carry miniature ones and stuffed ones.

AnY MeSSAgE FoR OuR ReA DeRS? Do not get discouraged by people who say it can’t happen. Surround yourself with people who are there to encourage and support you and help your dream come true. ⊙

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1

wow!

fun stuff brain teasers 1

chess challenge It’s white’s turn, checkmate in three moves.

A

B

C

D

E

F

G

H

7

7

6

6

5

5

3

3

2

2

1

1

2

4

4

Shabsai and Sarah were sitting in their family room one night. While Shabsai was listening to music, his wife Sarah was reading. All of a sudden the power went out and Shabsai decided to go to bed, but Sarah stayed up. Without any light, Sarah kept on reading. How?

8

8

A magician was boasting one day about how long he could hold his breath under water. His record was 6 minutes. A kid who was listening said, “That’s nothing, I can stay under water for 10 minutes with using any equipment or air pockets!” The magician told the kid if he could do that, he’d give him $10,000. The kid did it and won the money. Can you figure out how?

A

B

C

D

E

F

G

H

Last week's answer: (1) Knight to e5 check, Knight takes Queen on h5 (2) Bishop to f7 Checkmate!

Answers: 1) The kid filled a glass of water and held it over his head for 10 minutes. 2) Sarah was reading Braille.

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AS TOLD TO MIRIAM GLICK

MUSICAL CHAIRS

W

as it my fault that my cheder was built in 1972 before the advent of central airconditioning? Was it my fault that my classroom’s sorrylooking window unit, held together with a whole bunch of duct tape, was no match for 35 sweating boys and one really tall teacher? Was it my fault that I arrived late the first day? Yeah, the last one was kinda my fault, but that’s still no reason why I was paying the price for my school building’s failings.

I dropped my book bag with a thud in the front hallway.

“How was your first day at school?” my mother greeted me as she pointed to the floor.

“Horrible,” I replied morosely, kicking the bag into the front closet. I sat down at the kitchen table and picked up a cookie from the prepared plate.

“Couldn’t have been worse,” I added after my first bite.

“What happened?” my mother didn’t seem overly concerned as she sat down near me.

Why wasn’t she taking me seriously? I turned up the grumps. “My rebbi gave me the worst seat in the classroom. He for sure hates me—last year’s rebbi must’ve told him something bad about me.”

“What’s wrong with your seat?” my mother asked.

“It’s all the way by the door and the furthest seat from the air conditioner.

I practically melted from the heat. And I had such a pounding headache the whole day, I couldn’t concentrate on a thing we learned.”

Behind my mother, my sister Chayie was smirking.

“Stop it,” I growled.

“I’m not doing anything,” Chayie said.

“I just have the worst luck,” I said in a pitiful tone of voice. “Remember that kid in the country who got heat exhaustion? That could be me next if I stay where I am! Please call my rebbi and tell him he has to change my seat.”

Chayie was smirking again. “If he did speak to your last year’s rebbi maybe he was smart enough to have blocked our number already,” she said.

My mother gave my sister a warning look. ”I don’t think I should call your rebbi on the first day of school. How about you try it out for a week and if you are still not happy I’ll call then.”

“A week?!” I asked, horrified. “I barely made it through the day. It’s my health we’re talking about here, forget about my happiness.”

“Give it a week,” my mother said firmly.

“If you’re still miserable then, I’ll call.”

Week one passed in a haze of heat. It’s a miracle I survived it. It was an unseasonably hot September and each day was hotter than the day before. I couldn’t take any notes or open a sefer because my hands were literally wet from sweat. It was also pretty tough playing outside during recess because I knew I had no way of cooling down when I came in. (In the name of being a good sport, I did anyway, and came inside drenching wet and hyperventilating.) It’s a good thing my rebbi kept handing out review sheets—they made excellent fans.

Finally the longest week of my life passed and mother made THE PHONE CALL.

“What did he say?” I pounced on my mother eagerly as soon as she hung up the phone.

“He said he’ll move you closer to the air-conditioner.”

Oh. That had been easy. **** I did not appreciate my rebbi’s sense of humor at all. He moved me so close to the AC I practically froze! I walked home sniffling pathetically into a tissue.

“Mommy, you must call my rebbi,” I informed her immediately as I walked into the house.

“What now?!”

“I almost turned blue today from the cold! My hands were so cold that it’s a miracle I didn’t get frostbitten. I couldn’t learn a thing today ’cause my entire body was a complete block of ice.”

My mother gave me a look. It wasn’t one of sympathy.

“What’s the point of sending me to cheder if I don’t learn anything? Why can’t the rebbi just switch me to a normal seat?”

My mother sighed heavily. “Give it a couple of days. Maybe it’s just the change in temperature from the last seat that your body is not used to.”

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REALLIFE real tweens

I DID NOT APPRECIATE MY REBBI’S SENSE OF HUMOR AT ALL. HE MOVED ME SO CLOSE TO THE AC I PRACTICALLY FROZE! He stared at me for one whole minute.

“It’s not just my learning that’s at stake,” I added hastily. “It’s all my future generations too, just like the menahel said the first day of school.”

I am living proof that cold temperature gives you an actual cold. I could not learn. I could not write notes. I could not study. The only thing I could do was sip slowly from the hot cocoa thermos that I perched prominently in the center of my desk. Oh, and sniffle and cough A LOT. Shockingly enough, I managed to convince my mother to call my rebbi before the week was up. I think it was the ten sneezes in a row that I did at the dinner table that convinced her.

And my rebbi is obviously a much nicer person than my last year’s rebbi because he agreed immediately.

Rebbi placed me in the center of the classroom. It was not too hot and not too cold. Okay, it was a little too hot but that wasn’t the issue with the seat.

Life was blissful—for the first few minutes. Then the trouble began. I took out my sefer from under my desk and found that Ari Katzman, the kid in the seat behind me, was comfortably resting his feet (sans shoes) on the basket of books attached to the underside of my desk!

A. His feet smell. B. He was ruining my sefarim!

I pushed my desk up a little, but I didn’t get too far because of the huge briefcase my front neighbor, Chaim Newhouse, had placed on the back of

his seat. What on earth was Chaim schlepping to school every day? I pushed my desk into that monstrosity as hard as I could until a glare from my rebbi made me stop. I tried to concentrate on what we were learning but all I could think of was Ari’s smelly socks.

Then I realized that Yochanan Brisk on my right was breathing crazy loudly through his mouth. Yuck. I hate when people breathe through their mouths!

That night I begged my mother to call the rebbi again.

My mother refused. “Honey, this is the third seat you’ve been through and it’s not even the third week of cheder yet.

I think you just have to come to terms with your seat. Try it out for a while; you might just love it.”

No amount of pleading or convincing would change my mother’s mind! Even tears didn’t help. I’ll bet Chayie told her something!

Self-service is the best service. The next morning I cornered rebbi before he could enter the classroom.

“That’s a pretty impressive reason,” rebbi said.

I gave a slight nod, trying to look humble.

“But,” he continued, “I am not switching your seat. Not now and not in the future. It’s not your seat that needs a change, but your attitude that has to change.”

Huh?! **** A month passed. It’s amazing what time does to misery. I think it kind of dulls the pain and shock. The first few days I was in a state of depression, and then the pain kind of subsided. Maybe because I discovered that Yochanan has a fantastic sense of humor despite his stuff y nose. (Also, I don’t hear the breathing anymore. Either he went to therapy or I got used to it.) Or maybe it’s due to the fact that Chaim’s bulging briefcase has some awesome stuff inside that he is willing to share with me. Or maybe it's because Ari is usually captain of the ball game and he started picking me first.

“Is that so?” he seemed slightly amused.

“Why?”

Whatever the case, I hope my rebbi and mother realize how mature I am that I made peace with my seat. And I am shteiging away despite the obstacles in my path.

“I want to learn, but I can’t,” I said. Then I listed my complaints.

Now if only they could do something about the school lunch. ⊙

“I must switch my seat,” I informed him solemnly.

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It was gone for nearly 25 years and it finally reappeared.

You’ve certainly heard of the Dead Sea, the saltiest body of water on Earth, but

do you know where the second saltiest water is? It’s Lago Epecuén, a salt lake some 600 kilometers (372 miles) southwest of Buenos Aires, Argentina. And like the Dead Sea it too has therapeutic pow-

ers. A lovely vacation city, Villa Epecuén, grew at the lake’s shores; by the 1960s, as many as 25,000 people came yearly to soak in its soothing waters and visit its hotels, shops, and museums. But, then,

quick fact IT ONLY TOOK 20 DAYS FOR THE TOWN TO

SUBMERGE

BENEATH ALMOST 30 FEET (10 METERS) OF

WATER.

URUGUAY

ARGENTINA CHILE

Issue 138.indd 16

EPECUÉN

10/4/13 10:49 AM

in 1985, catastrophe hit. A heavy rainstorm followed a series of wet winters, and on November 10, the waters broke through the rock-and-earth dam and inundated much of the town.

The once-bustling town was gone. At last, in 2009, the waters began to recede. Villa Epecuén began coming back to the surface, revealing the town frozen in its 25-year-old wrecked state.

EPECUÉN

Epecuén hasn’t been rebuilt, but tourists flock here once again to see the ruins.

Dmitry Berkut / Shutterstock.com

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HERE TODAY… STILL HERE TOMORROW… BUT POSSIBLY

The cities of the world are always one tsuridig tsunami, one severe sandstorm, one extreme earthquake, one hostile hurricane, one terrifying tornado, one abysmal blaze or one vile volcano away from resting in pieces. But other cities are dying a slow, drawnout death before the eyes of a helpless (and often uncaring) world.

Can anything be done?

You decide…

BY SHAUL MOZESSON

TUVALU THE THREAT: RISING TIDES AND/OR INCOMPETENT LEADERSHIP THE STORY: Good tidings are good. Rising tides are also good. But too much of a good thing isn’t… Tuvalu is already one of the smallest countries in the world, both in population (it’s the third least populous) and in landmass (it’s the fourth smallest)—and it’s only getting smaller. Located halfway between Hawaii and Australia means that its population is effectively cut off from the rest of the world, but that too might be coming to an end.

Entire chunks of the Pacific island nation are being covered by ocean water at an alarming rate, and locals will sadly point to a spot deep in the ocean where their home used to rest a short while back. Tuvalu is just 15 feet (4.5 meters) above sea level at its highest point and can go under before politicians actually make up their minds whether global warming is real or not.

IT [DIS]APPEARS TO ME...

The government of Tuvalu is not concerned enough about its country’s disappearance to relocate its citizens…but it is concerned enough to travel the world asking other people for free money.

18 Issue 138.indd 18

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MOSCOW

RUSSIA THE THREAT: SHRINKING POPULATION THE STORY: There was a time when everyone loved living in Russia (because loving to live in Russia was better than the alternative, which was living in a prison in Russia). In its official census taken in 1897, the Russian Empire had a frozen population of 125 million people. Not too shabby, but then again, not too impressive for a country so big that the game of Risk felt it necessary to give it a half dozen different slots on its game board.

Between 1937 and 1939 the Soviet Union (which was just like the Russian Empire only slightly more lethal) took their own census to see how many people lived there. Guess what they found out? The country’s population had grown to 170 million (again, not allowing anyone to leave the place works wonders). Actually, we don’t know what the census showed. The bureau conducting the census never published their findings. Instead, they made sure the results hit 170 million people on the button. Why that number?

Because in a speech shortly before the unveiling of the survey’s results, Stalin speculated that he thought Russia had 170 million

people, and the conductors of the survey knew that had their numbers come out any different than those proposed by Stalin there would be a few fewer people to count come next survey (namely, themselves)!

The next survey (bear with me, it gets weird) was in 1959, where the population hit the 208 million mark and by 1989 it totaled 286 million (alright, so they cheated by counting other, nearby countries they conquered, but still…).

But all of a sudden (and here is the weird part) a few revolutions, wars and open borders later, and the Russian Federation (after its most recent name change) has

dropped to 142.9 million people! Weird!!!

Russian president (and parttime dictator) Vladimir Putin has called this decline the biggest threat facing Russia, because face it, if the trend doesn’t reverse itself the Russian fatherland may find itself as empty as a bottle of vodka in a trash bin.

IT [DIS]APPEARS TO ME...

Perhaps the designers of the Risk board feared Stalin’s wrath too, should they neglect to represent Russia as anything other than ridiculously huge—there has to be some reason why the board looks literally nothing like a map of our world!

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H

MEXICO CITY, MEXICO

P

THE THREAT: TOO MUCH DRINKING THE STORY: We all know the dangers of alcoholic beverages.

One drink too many can send one wobbling in the direction of an early grave. In a weird twist, this story has absolutely nothing to do with any of that. Instead, in an ever weirder twist, this story is about people drinking too much water.

It might shock you to know—or it might not; I don’t really know you very well—that Mexico City is sinking as much as 18 to 24 inches (46 to 61 cm. every year in some places and has dropped over 30 feet (9 meters) on average! Mexico City was originally (or maybe I should say “unoriginally”) built atop a lake, which people have been draining because of a little disease called “thirst” which plagues 99.9999% of the population (this study comes with its very own 0.0001% margin of error). So people need to drink the water as a remedy, but they don’t stop there. Water is used to clean laundry, go swimming, wash dishes and take showers (and according to “Mexican Ransom,” bodies of water are also used for people to park their cars in). Because drinking water (or converting the water into other, significantly less healthy beverages) is the best cure for this illness known as “thirst” and because people need to be treated for this disease multiple times throughout the day, water gets used a lot.

The lake is shrinking and so is the city beneath which the water runs. Of course, Mexico City is one of the largest in the world, and the idea of the entire metropolis going under sounds a bit apocalyptic. Still, no one has exactly figured out how to solve the shrinkage problem either.

IT [DIS]APPEARS TO ME...

If “Mexican Ransom” is to be trusted, I’d say Mexico City has more to worry about than just the ground collapsing from underneath it…

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KIRIBATI

HUACACHINA,

PERU

THE THREAT: GLOBAL WARMING, MAYBE

THE THREAT: SANDSTORMS AND POOR PLANNING THE STORY: It’s somewhat unclear how the tiny little oasis city of Huacachina got its name, though it does sound like it was inspired by the old Yiddish expression “You hock a chinik,” and will probably be the subject of a future spelling bee in America. Anyway, the oasis is home to less than 200 residents and more than 200,000 annual tourists, but both the number of residents and number of tourists might find themselves meeting at the “0” mark pretty soon.

A combination of blowing winds and a shrinking water level turned the nearby oasis of Orovilca into a ghost-oasis, and Huacachina might be following suit. The Peruvian government (yes, they have one of those too) had come up with a brilliant idea some 25 years ago to build pipes which would enable them to refill the lagoons of nearby oases if they were to ever dip too low. But that entire project actually prevents water from accumulating naturally, and local officials—being a bit behind on their water bills—are not helping matters at all (they are doing the exact opposite, in fact).

IT [DIS]APPEARS TO ME...

Have any of the locals thought of turning on all their faucets at once and letting the water run out into the streets until it fills up the oasis? Or did they try that and that's why their water bills are so high?

KASHGAR, CHINA THE THREAT: TOO MUCH GOVERNMENT WITH TOO LITTLE HEART THE STORY: Kashgar is just one example of an ancient city being torn to the ground by the Chinese government. China has been going through an addiction to modernity which is causing it to eradicate some of its most historic locales to make place for giant shopping centers and office buildings. Why are they doing this? Because local inhabitants aren’t complaining.

And why are they not complaining? I think you know the answer to that one…

The destruction of native villages across South America, Africa and Australia is nothing new, but in this case China is destroying sophisticated cities that have been around for centuries. According to the China Federation of Literary Art Circles (CFLAC), 900,000 towns have been lost over the past decade, which they claim averages 90 to 100 villages per day. My personal calculator was not available for comment…

THE STORY: Remember the story about Tuvalu? The one about the Pacific island?

That the ocean is slowly but consistently swallowing up? You know, the one where the government is raising awareness and raising money to match the rising tides?

Well, that island might very well have disappeared since you read about it, and its neighbor Kiribati (not close enough to borrow eggs from, but close enough that practically no one can tell them apart on a globe) might not be far behind. But unlike Tuvaluans, these people have an entire contingency plan which they’re prepared to enact should the water levels begin to rise at a faster pace. The president of Kiribati has made it clear that he’s ready to move his people out of their homeland as early as this year, and while I would imagine the Russians—with their declining population and all—would be the first ones to welcome them in, the current plan is for Kiribati to purchase giant chunks of land off the nearby Fiji islands.

Government officials of Kiribati, who do believe global warming to be the cause of their country’s inevitable demise, are traveling the world to raise awareness about the melting of polar icecaps in the North Pole and Antarctica, a phenomenon they believe is causing the oceans to rise.

IT [DIS]APPEARS TO ME...

Just how weird is it that while we, on the mainland, keep dreaming of vacations on exotic islands to get a break from the stresses of life, the island dwellers can only dream about a vacation to the mainland as a respite from their stresses!

IT [DIS]APPEARS TO ME...

The destruction of so many tens of thousands of cities is quite a lot, even for a country of a billion and a half people (which should be understood as being close to one billion and five hundred million people, not one billion people and half a person).

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t

THE THREAT: EVERYTHING THE STORY: Detroit. A once-proud city of over 2 million is emptying out faster than Syrian soldiers fleeing a town after hearing a bogus news update. Today Detroit has hardly 700,000 inhabitants.

QUNEITRA, SYRIA THE THREAT: CIVIL WAR, REGULAR WAR AND MORE THE STORY: The historic, one-time capital city of south-western Syria, Quneitra boasted a population of 21,000. In 1967 the Syrians were so confident that they’d be able to push Israel into the sea (shows how little they know about physics, by the way) that they designated Quneitra to be their military capital, despite that fact that it lay dangerously close to the Israeli border. So guess how that turned out for them…?

Four days after the war’s outbreak—don’t forget, this was a six-day war; by day four the war was more than half over—Israel had captured the Golan Heights from Syria and was moving towards Syria’s south-western capital of Quneitra. Syrian military radio, instead of reporting that Israel was advancing towards the city, mistakenly announced that Israel had conquered the city (big, big difference, by the way, though I’m sure they did apologize). And then guess what happened? The Syrian troops got up and fled, as the Israelis captured the entire city in just a matter of minutes.

Israel controlled Quneitra until after the Yom Kippur War, when they were forced to return it to the Syrians as part of their peace agreement. But first, Israel made sure to demolish pretty much every single building in the entire area, leaving the Syrians just a heap of rubble. The Syrians, knowing a good deal when they saw one, conscientiously opted to leave the town in ruins so that they’d have what to blame the Israelis for.

While jobs are being lost by the tens of thousands, stray dogs are increasing by the tens of thousands. There’s a lot of uncollected garbage all over the place, but at least they have thousands of abandoned homes into which the garbage can be stored. The murder rate is not just the highest in the United States, but one of the highest in the world as well. (And you thought Syria was bad? Well, you’re right; Syria is doing pretty badly too.)

Crime is at an all-time high, opportunity is at an all-time low, and local officials are still as corrupt as ever. Detroit finds itself close to $20 billion in debt, which would have been significantly worse had they not declared bankruptcy a few months ago.

IT [DIS]APPEARS TO ME...

Some cities are just not worth saving; some articles are just not worth continuing. I had a more upbeat way to finish this feature, but alas, it vanished without warning like some of the cities and towns mentioned here… ⊙

DETROIT, MICHIGAN

The Syrian government has tried to repopulate Quneitra over the years without much success.

Before the outbreak of the recent Syrian civil war, only 153 people lived there, but fighting between government and rebels forces is doing an unparalleled job at preserving the town’s complete and utter destruction.

IT [DIS]APPEARS TO ME...

Only in something as pointless as the Syrian civil war can people fight to the death for control of a mostly abandoned city that has been destroyed for the past 40 years!

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et targt e

tas

ingredients This stunningly simple banana ice cream recipe is shockingly delicious. To get a really creamy mixture, you can mix in a little bit of coconut cream, but feel free to leave it out if you want a stronger banana flavor. You’ll need to freeze the bananas overnight, so be sure to plan accordingly.

3 TO 4 BANANAS, PEELED AND FROZEN OVERNIGHT 1 TO 2 TABLESPOONS COCONUT CREAM (OPTIONAL) SEEDS FROM 1 VANILLA BEAN OR 1 TEASPOON VANILLA EXTRACT In a blender or food processor, combine the frozen bananas, coconut cream, and vanilla bean seeds. Puree until smooth. Serve immediately or freeze for an hour for a more scoopable texture.

About 1 pint ice cream

banana

soft serve

ice cream Credit: excerpted from Real Snacks: Make Your Favorite Childhood Treats Without All the Junk by Lara Ferroni.

23 Issue 138.indd 23

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Recap

Colin and Leora are concerned when Yael does not show up to meet them.

THERE

was no traffic holdup on Golders Green Road.

In fact the traffic was light and the roads were clear. As Colin drove them toward the address they had for Yael Reed, the sheer ease of the journey filled them with dread. What had happened to her if there was no holdup and no accident as far as they could tell? Colin used his police radio to call in and ask if there had been any RTAs (road traffic accidents) along the route from where Yael lived to Brent Street in Hendon and was told no, none. No incidents at all.

Leora was clenching her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “Colin this is NOT GOOD. NOT GOOD at all.”

“I agree,” Colin said grimly. Let’s go and see what we can find out from her place.”

“Nice area,” Leora commented as Colin parked the car, slapped a police sticker in the windshield to stop himself getting a parking ticket, and they both stood outside the apartment block where they knew Yael Reed lived. “Love the park over the road.

We take the kids there a lot, don’t we, Colin? To feed the ducks and play in the play area. I must confess I never noticed the apartments. They look very nice.”

“From what I’ve learned, they were set up by a famous local entrepreneur specially to help young single girls have somewhere to live and work out of. Very enterprising of him. It even has a communal kitchen and dining

area besides the apartments’ own kitchenettes, so that if the girls don’t get invited out for Shabbos and Yom Tov, they don’t have to eat alone.”

“Wow, that’s an amazing idea,” Leora said. “Now, how do we get in?”

Colin pointed to a sign. “Caretaker’s fl at. That’s janitor to you Yanks.” He grinned at her.

“Colin I’ve been living in the UK long enough by now to know what a caretaker is,” Leora grinned back. They rang the bell. After a while, a grumpy looking old man, heavily overweight, came to the door and glared at them.

“Whatja want?” he said.

“That’s not very friendly,” Leora protested.

“I was just having my dinner and you’ve disturbed me,” the man said, looking unrepentant. “There’s a nice big burger and fries with my name on it back in my kitchen, getting cold.”

“We’re police officers and we’d like to get into one of the fl ats,” Colin said imperiously. “The fl at of a Miss Yael Reed, to be exact. I presume you have the master key?”

“I do, but I ain’t letting you in until I’ve seen some ID,” said the caretaker, scowling at them.

Colin and Leora hadn’t brought any ID with them as they hadn’t thought a dinner out would be official business.

But Colin took out a handful of £20 pound notes and handed it over. “Will this do?” he asked.

The caretaker looked at the picture of the Queen on the topmost note and smiled for the first time. It was not a good look. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he said.

He took out a key from his pocket, and firmly trousered the money. “Follow me.”

They duly followed him up some stairs, and Leora sent a raised eyebrow at Colin at the way the man wheezed and panted as he climbed one flight of steps. He nodded his agreement that the man was a heart attack on two legs, but what could one do?

“I know this place is amazing, yada yada yada,” grumbled the old man as he heaved his bulk up the final few stairs, “but you’d think the Big Boss, would put in a lift, wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose he thought most young single girls wouldn’t need a lift,” Leora commented, without wishing to insult the caretaker’s state of fitness.

It was only one flight up. The whole building was only two storeys, but it was long and wide where it was lacking in height. Yael’s apartment was the last door on the upper storey.

“Here we go,” wheezed the caretaker and knocked on the door of Flat 5.

He rang the bell. And waited. And waited.

No answer. So he got out his key and opened the door.

“It will lock automatically when you close the door,” he told the pair, “so just be sure it’s properly closed when

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CHAPTER 27

Watch your step. You could be next.

“I’m going back to my dinner if that’s all right with you. Nothing worse than a cold greasy burger." you leave.” He looked towards the stairs going down. “I’m going back to my dinner if that’s all right with you.

Nothing worse than a cold greasy burger. I’ll probably have to shove it in the microwave now that you’ve gone and disturbed me.” He paused, remembering the £20 notes in his pocket. “But never mind, Your Majesty,” he cackled. “It was worth it.”

Once inside the fl at and alone, Colin and Leora had a brief giggle about the “Your Majesty” gag, then settled down to business.

They looked around the fl at perfunctorily at first, getting an overview of the layout etc. One bedroom, a small living room/dining room area, a kitchenette with a microwave, a mini oven hardly big enough to take a single chicken let alone a whole Shabbos’ worth of food, and a two burner gas hob. A small fridge/freezer. Two sinks on the same side of the countertop with just enough space between them not to be at risk of splashing meat and milk into each other. All in all it was the sort of kitchen that would drive any self-respecting young girl to beg to be invited out for meals, or else to cook and eat communally with the other residents. Maybe that was Mr.

Entrepreneur’s idea all along. To push the girls together to prevent them from being too solitary.

identities hidden under her mattress. Yes, Leora checked there too.

She had to; it was part of her job.

A bathroom with an in-bath shower and a curtain that had seen better days surrounding it. The tiles were fine, and Yael obviously was a fairly clean housekeeper and did the basics to keep her home neat and hygienic.

“Come here, Leora,” Colin called from the living room.

Okay, that was the overview; now down to specifics. Leora was given the job of rifling through Yael’s bedroom closets and drawers. She might be hygienic but she sure isn’t tidy, the detective thought, surveying the hastily rehung clothes. I guess she tried everything on in her closet for our date tonight, almost left it all over her bed, then decided to do a last minute half-hearted tidy up. One woman to another; she had hit upon the truth because it was what she would have done herself at that age. Now that she was a so-called respectable married woman, she couldn’t walk out of her bedroom until it was pristine. It just bothered her too much.

Looking through Yael’s personal things felt like a violation. She hated it, but she knew it had to be done.

There was nothing out of the ordinary to see, nothing that would lead Leora to believe that Yael was anything other than what she appeared to be: a frum, young single woman. There were no secret photos of clandestine

“Might as well,” Leora called back as she closed drawers and closets, trying to put things back as she had found them, even though her instincts made her want to tidy everything up. She hoped all was okaywith Yael and that she’d soon return home, and if she did...no…WHEN she did…she didn’t want her to even notice they had been there and rifled through her things.

She went back into the living room.

Colin was looking at the laptop, and he also had her iPad open on the desk next to it.

“Firstly here’s the file she was talking about,” he said, pointing at the screen even as he took out a fl ash drive to copy it onto. “I’m going to get our decoders to work on it.”

“And secondly?” Leora asked him.

“Secondly the iPad has all her notes and thoughts on the case. And her appointments. It’s very interesting. I think the head teacher, Leah Brodie, sounds very interesting too. The one with the big Rottweiler. I think we should pay her an official visit. Soon.”

To be continued...

25 Issue 138.indd 25

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Recap:

Meir and Faigy have come up with a brilliant plan to get Malky married; InYour-Face messaging, the polar opposite of subliminal messaging. Malky is struggling with her self-esteem, and Miri has realized that she is not really a princess. But she is not happy about it. Not happy at all.

ER 191 PTT CHHAA MAN PNEEUR

Y DI NA BC

DD, We were ready to start. We were set up in my room; papers, pens, pencils, markers and loads of tape. We were all set to write just how awesome Malky is on multiple papers in multiple ways. But then we realized that it’s not as straightforward as it had seemed to us when we had first come up with the plan.

The plan kind of has a problem. The plan kind of has a kind of a fl aw.

The kind of fl aw in the plan is that as much as it’s supposed to be in-your-face, it can’t really be as in-your-face as we’d like. It can’t just be signs that say that Malky is awesome, because that’s a bit suspicious. And more than a little bit weird. Some might say that it borders on creepy.

So we’ve taken a short recess to think about how to refine the plan. And it’s harder than you might think because we’re all alone in this. Because it’s not like we can even read a book about it or consult an expert. We are the experts. If there’ll be a book, we will be the ones to write it. We made

up In-Your-Face Messaging, and it’s a little scary to use such untested methods, but oddly liberating at the same time, because I’ve been crazy bound to rules lately. My new rebbi is really strict, for one; it’s like you can’t even breathe in class without asking permission. (And he would probably say no, too.)And I can’t eat anything awesome because of my stupid braces for another. (I’m the kid in the back of the classroom with the rice cakes while everyone else has gummy worms. It’s a pathetic existence.) And so to start something brand new and rule-free like this feels pretty good.

And I’m sure that it’ll work.

Because it’s brilliant. It just needs some fine tuning.

(Which I’m remembering now is what Tatty said about the car just before the engine slid out spontaneously from under the hood. But that has nothing to do with this. Whatsoever.)

We can do it! We will do it. We just have to come up with the right words.

Meir

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Dear Diary,

I feel so much better since my talk with Rebbet zin Temima Maarav i in the soup kitchen today! I knew that I would! She is amazing and fantast ic and my heart breaks when I walk down the street and am confronted by the multitudes of the world who have not (yet!) been exposed to her beautiful wisdom .

As we were standing together in the kitchen of Matanos L’evyonim, making pot after pot of noodles, I worked up my courage and asked her my question. I said, “How can I act confident when my confidence is lagging? Is it a lie to act one way and feel another in your heart?”

And she said to me, “Mamaleh, do you remember the horse and the flea mashal ?”

Do I remember the horse and flea mashal ? Does a zebra have stripes? I recited it to her by heart: (Nimshalim and Mishalim, page 56)

Dear Darling Diary, We finally figured out what kind of In-Your-Face Messages to write. (When I say “we” I mean “me.” I’m using the polite “we.”) It flies in the face of the in-your-faceness of it, so we are breaking the rules before we even write them— which is so poetic and beautiful that I feel like painting it—I must paint it—I’ll be right back!!

Wow. I bring tears to my eyes. I amaze myself.

Anyway, where was I? One second, rereading….

Okay, yes, about the In-YourFace messages that are a little less in your face than one might expect from a name like In-Your-Face Messages.

So we’re going to send letters that look like official let-

Once upon a time, long long ago, in a kingdom by the sea, there lived a marvelous land in which animals talked to each other, just like people.

“And he won,” said Rebbet zin Temima Maarav i, smiling.

In this land, in a cottage near the woods, there lived a horse and a flea. They were desperately poor, since the horse was lame and no one was hiring fleas these days. They subsisted on whatever roots they could find, and the occasional free

So she said that she’s the one who wrote it and so she knows it, so let’s cut to the chase— which is legitimate, I suppose—and that the nimshal is that basically you can act a certain way on the outside that actually changes you on the inside. That if I act confident, I can actually become confident!

handout.

One cold winter’s day, they found that the cupboard was bare. The flea buzzed around, despondent. They were close to despair when the horse saw a poster nailed to a tree. It was announcing the big race that was coming up. The winner would get a hundred gold coins.

“We can feast like kings!” the horse said.

“Wait,” I said, “I didn’t say the part about— "

I left the soup kitchen feeling better than I have in weeks. I will break all of the rules! I will act confident! I will act with a confidence that the world has never seen! And I will banish the specter of fear that has been hovering over me since Tzvi Landau.

“But you are lame,” said the flea. “And I cannot race since I cannot run. So it is hopeless.” And the flea cried bitter tears.

I feel amazing. I feel reborn.

The horse said, “Lame? Who said I’m lame?” And he practiced and practiced for the race.

Malky

And that is the power of Rebbetzin Temima Maaravi.

ters, typed up and everything, from some bogus organization, nominating Malky for teacher of the year. Clever, huh? And posters too, with the same, and this way it looks like a legitimate campaign and we can then feel free to write how awesome she is without it looking suspicious.

I am a conduit for good ideas.

They just flow through me like rain flows through a poorly constructed umbrella.

Oh! And speaking of posters, they are posting the parts for the play tomorrow! I have been practicing my modest acceptance smile. Like the kind of smile that says, yes, I know I am perfect for the main part, but, like, in a humble way.

Humbly yours,

Diary!

It doesn’t even matter that Malk y says that I am not a princess. Because why do I have to listen to her rules? I DON’T! Because I am a princess and I don’t have to listen to anyone! 

Miri

To be continued...

Faigy

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IT’S NOT THAT SHE PUTS PRESSURE ON ME. SHE REALLY DOESN’T. MY MOTHER, THAT IS. IT’S JUST THAT SHE IS PRESSURE ON ME. CAN YOU UNDERSTAND THE DIFFERENCE? I didn’t even know that she was until a second ago. I mean, because she really isn’t. She’s not even in this story. She doesn’t even have one line of dialogue or even a cameo when she sticks her head in the door. So she has nothing to do with this, except everything. Got it now?

No? Maybe it’s because these thoughts are sort of tumbling out one on top of each other as if I have already thought them without realizing it and then jammed them so hard into the closet in the back of my head so as not to think them. And when I opened the closet door a tiny crack, out they poured.

And the closet thing is really a fitting metaphor because it’s just such a closet, jammed with stuff, now tumbling all around me when I cracked open the door—that made me realize what I am realizing now.

Blah. Speaking of unspeakable messes,

I’m really making a mess of this introduction.

Okay. You know the kind of person that everything looks good on and everything they say is the right thing to say?

The kind of person who says “sure!” to everything, not because they don’t know how to say no, but because nothing is a big deal to them? They always have drive and energy, even at crazy times, like at six in the morning when all normal people are just turning the pillow over to the cool side.

Do you know people like that?

I do. I’m related to them by blood. They are my mother. (Well, she is my mother.

“They” being plural, and me having one mother.)

Do you also know the kind of person who is not like that at all?

Yeah. Of course you do. Because that’s the rest of us.

But I didn’t know that. I didn’t know that the rest of us didn’t leap to our feet with an eager smile plastered across our faces when confronted with Stuff To Do. Because she always did. I thought that I was supposed to juggle everything and still not break a sweat, just the way that she does every single day. But standing here in front of my closet, knee-high in stuff, the truths are hitting me faster than I can duck

them.

Truth Number One: I’m not my mother.

Truth Number Two: It will take a team of five very motivated people to get this closet cleaned up.

Truth Number Three: And it would still take the better part of October.

You still have no idea why I’m standing in front of a closet to begin with.

And you’re probably thinking, “Okay, this story is halfway done and all I’ve seen are the insides of your closet.

And frankly, it’s rather embarrassing.

So can we move on?”

Moving on.

I’m the head of a few committees in school—I know, I know, but I thought that I was supposed to. My mother works full time, is head of PTA, and still manages to be home when we are home with a fresh-cooked dinner and a smile. So of course I head the G.O. and the chesed program and a few other small things. Like props and yearbook.

Quiet. I gave myself enough lectures in the past 15 minutes. I don’t need to hear it from you, too.

The chesed program is affiliated with the Russian girls’ school next door, and we found out that one of the twelfth graders was getting married!

It was all so exciting and we decided (we=me; I seem to have a plural issue) to help out.

We raised money for things like gowns and appliances for her apartment, and while we were sitting in my room late one night, writing up a thank-you list, it hit me.

BY DINA NEUMAN

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LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER

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“We need to make her a sheva brachos,” I said triumphantly.

“We do?” Chaya blinked at me before her mouth split into this huge yawn.

Truth is, I was feeling pretty tired myself. Truth is, I was living on caffeine and donuts. And—now that I am being completely honest with myself and with you, I didn’t really want to make her sheva brachos. I really want-

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ed to go to sleep. I had a pounding headache and a strange heaviness in my arms and legs as though I were carrying something too heavy for me.

“Sleep is overrated.”

But I was thinking of Shula, the baalas teshuvah who had lived in my house for her three-month engagement, and how after arranging the wedding and everything, my mother had also made the most amazing sheva brachos.

“No one says tests shmests. My grandmother says tests shmests.”

“Of course we do!” I said.

“And tests?”

“Tests shmests.”

“Listen, I’ll handle it.”

We did. We ran around like a chicken without a head, organizing, ordering, making a million and one phone calls and pulling the whole thing off. (By the way, we=me. Again.)

“It sounds awesome,” Mindy said. “But you know that we also have the Meet and Greet to plan, and aren’t you G.O. people organizing the Shabbaton?”

So we—me—did it.

“Twenty-four hours in a day,” I said, my arms spread grandly even as my eyes felt so gritty, I kept thinking that I had accidentally rubbed them with sand.

I woke up the morning before the sheva brachos to my phone ringing. I picked it up. Who was calling so early? My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“Not when you have to sleep a bunch of them.”

“Where are you? I’ve been calling and calling!” It was Frumie, my G.O. co-head, and her voice was high-pitched and a little frantic.

At a price.

“Huh?” I managed.

“I’m at the printer. For the fliers? I was supposed to meet you here 20 minutes ago! Now recess is over and I’ll be in tons of trouble. Where are you? And where are the fliers? The guy said that he never got them!”

The word pricked a hole through my cotton-y daze. Fliers. I know what those are. They are papers. With information.

And you hang them up. Or give them out.

“TRUTH NUMBER ONE: I’M NOT MY MOTHER.”

Fliers. Fliers! For the Shabbaton! I was supposed to drop the master copy off yesterday after school. And instead I had run to get tulle and lace for the head table because I decided it looked drab, and—completely forgotten about it.

“Are you there?”Frumie asked.

“Yes! I’m here! Listen, go back to school.

I’ll handle it—I’ll—" I was jumping out of bed as I spoke. The sunlight was pouring in from my window. The clock said 11:30. Seriously?

How in the world had I overslept so late?

And where in the world was the flier that I needed to copy?

“You’ll handle it?” Frumie sounded a little calmer.

“I will.” Didn’t I always?

“I don’t know how you do it,” Frumie was saying.

And suddenly, neither did I. I felt panicky. There was a Chumash test tomorrow, as well. Or was that today? I couldn’t think past the pounding in my ears. What would Mommy do? Well, she would never had gotten into this mess to begin with, now would she. No, she would not. She would have juggled everything, and with a smile. And she would never have forgotten about the fliers.

I took a deep, slow breath, and let it out.

It sounded more like a sob. Okay. One thing at a time. Run around looking for flier?

Maybe first get dressed rather than be frantic weird girl in nightgown.

Yes. Sound idea.

And that’s when I opened my closet door.

And here we are. Full circle. Back to me at the closet, things falling around me, locking my knees into place as if I had just stepped into mud. It had opened okay yesterday, but I guess there’s a limit to the amount of things that you can just toss in and close the door and hope for the best.

I guess there’s a limit, I thought, and felt this strange lightness in my limbs as I thought so, as though I was releasing some imaginary burden from my shoulders.

I had never thought about limits. My mother didn’t seem to have one. Maybe she did, though. Maybe she cut corners in ways that I didn’t realize.

Or maybe she didn’t. Maybe she really did do everything and everything perfectly.

Truth Number Four: I couldn’t, though.

Truth Number One again, because it bears repetition: I’m not my mother.

Truth Number Five: I’m me. I can do a lot.

But I can’t do everything.

Truth Number Six: And that’s okay.

⊙

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My lips are sealed… After all, they’re mine and mine alone. Even though many species have lips, only human lips are unique to each person, much like fingertips. Want to know who drank up your mochacino? Take the prints! Cheiloscopy is the study of lip prints.

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Some terms you're guaranteed to forget instantaneously: The upper and lower lips are referred to as the “labium superius oris” and “labium inferius oris,” respectively. The area where the lips meet the surrounding skin of the mouth area is the "vermilion border," and the reddish area within the borders is called the "vermilion zone." The protruding part in the center of the upper lip is known by various terms, including the "procheilon," the “tuberculum labii superioris,” and the “labial tubercle.”

Now what was the upper lip called? Told you so!

Tsang Tsz-Kwan, a 20-year-old from Hong Kong, means it literally when she says “Read my lips.” That’s because this blind Chinese student taught herself how to read with her lips—Braille, that is. After all, lips are 100 times more sensitive than fingertips.

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The lips have it: New research from University College London uncovered a chemical capable of activating sensors that respond to touch on the lips. The chemical, known as sanshool, is found in hot spicy peppers and can access parts of the lips that connect to the area of the brain associated with touch.

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12 THINGS YOU MAY ...

T U O B A W O N K T O N

LIPS

BY RACHELI SOFE

R

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Lipsercise: Pucker up for a kiss or to play a trumpet and you’ll use lots of muscles to do so. While scientists used to think that the orbicularis oris—the muscle in the lips—was just one muscle that contracted for a kiss, we now know that it is actually a complex of four muscles.

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Did you ever wonder what makes your lips look red? It’s actually blood! The skin of the lips is super thin. While skin elsewhere on the body consists of 16 cellular levels, skin on lips is made up of only three to five level so you can see the blood vessels underneath.

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It may have taken Leonardo daVinci 12 years to paint the Mona Lisa’s lips, but it was no sweat off his back. Actually, I meant no sweat off his lips—because lips don’t have sweat glands. Sweat glands are what help keep our skin moisturized, which explains the common phenomenon of dry lips.

What color are my lips? In ancient times people used colored clay or berry juice as “lipstick."

The Babylonians made use of a special mixture of ground semiprecious stones for the same purpose.

A moment on the lips, forever on the canvas!

Talk about the “kiss of death”: The ancient Egyptians used a plant dye called fucus to get a purple-colored lipstick, but what they didn’t know was that it contained mercury—which is poisonous. Other options at the time included red lead that smelled of rust. To improve the odor, fragrant essences were added to this lipstick. Archeologists discovered remains of such mixtures in tombs of nobles. (What didn’t those Egyptians store in their tombs?!)

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Lip service at its finest… Some artists take lip art one step further, using their lips as a canvas they painstakingly paint intricate, lifelike designs. Some of famed artist Sandra Holmbom's lip designs include a strawberry, wood grain, the Northern Lights and even a detailed eye complete with fake eyelashes.

Make sure your paint is non-toxic before trying this at home! Some artists paint by putting paint or lipstick on their lips, then pressing their lips against a blank canvas to creates large, nuanced images. It isn't easy: One such artist, Natalie Irish, told reporters that her eyes tire from constantly moving between very close to farther back from the canvas to examine her work. And of course, her lips get very tired too.

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You can have a “stiff upper lip” at any age, but why do you get thin lips as you age? Lips get their shape from the protein collagen. But as the body ages, it produces less collagen and lips start to lose their plumpness. Blame it on something else too: exposure to UV sunlight. SPF chapstick, anyone?

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In the meantime...

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