Chag Sukkot Sameach! You still have a few days left to get 36% off paid subscriptions, now through the end of September. That’s the price of two overpriced shawarmas in Tel Aviv or four macadamia milk matcha lattes in New York City. Paid subscribers get access to Notes From Tel Aviv like these, my weekly series of personal dispatches from Israel.
Also, I recently sat down with October 7 hero Maj. Gen. (res.) Noam Tibon, now #6 on the B’Yachad list, to talk about elections and his vision for Israel — Watch Here. And my latest piece, on Brad Lander and Mahmoud Khalil’s Yom Kippur chutzpah, is up as well.
My dad grew up in Beer Sheva. By my count, he hasn’t voted since 1981. I’m not sure who he voted for then, Shimon Peres or Menachem Begin. I would pick either man in a heartbeat over our current prime minister.
Slicha, I forgot these Notes from Tel Aviv are not supposed to be about politics.
Anyway, back to my dad and his hometown. Beer Sheva is an interesting place, and it was back then. I’ve written about its soccer team at length in previous notes, and the multiple times they’ve broken my heart. But this note is not about football or soccer.
When my grandparents arrived from Iraq, my grandfather’s more established, educated Baghdadi side settled in Petah Tikvah, while my Svata’s Basrawi side (Jews from Basra, Iraq) settled in Beer Sheva.