Bridges obsess me. I am the bridge between five generations. I am the link between my grandfather and my grandson.
I stood on the bridge which connected Poland and Germany. The bridge the Panzer division surged across and opened the doors of hell. The first to enter were my relatives.
I co-founded Oranit and established the town council. Oranit will be the bridge between the settlements and Israel proper. One day, together with Kfar Kasm, we will be the bridge between Jew and Arab.
Oranit is my pride and my future.
As I wandered through the woods to work, I used the modern miracle- WAYZ. WAYZ is what we can do and what distinguishes us. Jewish ingenuity built WAYZ. Jews uniquely argue with WAYZ. You see many Jews talking on their phone while driving. Do not be fooled. They have a violent argument with their WAYZ. ‘Golomb, who are you to tell me?’
WAYZ inherits our founding father. It decided on a different way to get from point A to point B. Moses installed a need to avoid straight line. ‘Straight-lines. Feh. They are for the Goyim.’
My WAYZ decided the best way to go South West is to drive North West; drive due West. Then head due South. Are you confused? Do not be. The Moses app then sent me South. Finally, WAYZ agreed to go in the true direction.
In 1982, we went from Tel Aviv to the outskirts of Beirut. We travelled via Baar Sheba. Moses left an indelible impression.
Moses dealt with Jews who thought better. Every Jews knows better. My Moses app had a similar experience. Before I tell you what it was, we will detour too. I am not the only Jew obsessed by bridges. Israelis believe bridges are there to express their opinion. There was a rickety bridge on the main road linking Tel Aviv to our capital, Jerusalem. It had been there forever. One of the many folk commentators expressed himself. ‘This bridge is the Oslo accord. It is leading nowhere. It is dangerous and liable to collapse at any moment.’ The censors had the bridge removed.
My WAYZ had no algorithm equal to a Polish Jew obsessed by a bridge. This wee Pole decided he had enough of Bibi. My grandad brought his ideology from Praszka to Leeds. ‘I like what is right.’ Jews like what is right. They decide what is right. Then they tell you. But Poles have an added twist. They use moral blackmail. My mum, the princess from Praszka, was born, by a quirk of fate, in Leeds. Mum was a mistress in the dark arts. ‘If you love me get your hair cut.’ ‘If you love me, learn medicine. After that, do what you want.’ The Jewish Pole was into blackmail too. Not only did he share what he believed to be true. He commanded us. ‘Get rid of Netanyahu…’. The Polish punchline was in the suffix: ‘if you love Israel.’
Everyone slowed to read the commandment. Most honked in approval. The old man won. The backup added twenty minutes to the ETA. Single-handed Jewish nature flummoxed Jewish ingenuity.
The cussedness from Praszka met with the brashness of Israel. The old ways of Praszka won.
Leeds is the bridge between Praszka and Oranit. The UK is at a bridge. On one side of the bridge glow the embers of the sixties. Naivety and belief in good echo in the fading jambiya. Brotherhood of Man and Power for the People flows through sclerotic veins.
Across the bridge await greed and cynicism. The vitriolic, self-centred faux-virtue of Thatcher is alive and well. The Brits wonder and wander. A strange bridge appeared. The flower power suvivors know Thatcher was a betrayal. Those yet to enter established adulthood know what is waiting. They oppose their future. Across the bridge of generations walks Corbyn.
Is Corbyn the Jew hater my epitomic old Jew from Praszka? Against the odds, he can stem the flow.
Corbyn wins, no matter what.