Spent the morning cleaning out my garage. Found a baseball card that would be worth more than 300 dollars if it hadn’t spent the past ten years in my garage.

Saw Steven Spielberg’s WAR HORSE over the weekend. My take on it: basically, it’s SAVING PRIVATE RYAN. With a horse.

Went to a t-ball game yesterday. Highlight: watching my kid get thrown out running from third to first.

My landlord just stopped by unannounced. I was like, “Couldn’t you have at least called? I mean, what – you think you own this place?”

Yesterday, I came across an article, in the Israeli press, about how IDF soldiers serving in the West Bank and Gaza will undergo new training specifically focused on the ethical and moral dilemmas that come with serving in the Territories. This new training will take place at an IDF Education Corps base.

My own experience in a combat unit of the IDF had its share of ups and downs. In my book, I sometimes critique the IDF. But I also praise the Israeli Army when deserved. And one area that I feel the IDF deserves glowing praise is its policy of battlefield ethics, known as “Tohar Ha Neshek” (Purity of Arms).

I was amazed at how much time our officers spent talking to us about the ethical dilemmas we could face in combat. My unit happened to be bound for Lebanon, where the ethical lines were much less blurred. But even so, we discussed the situations IDF soldiers regularly face in the West Bank and Gaza: children and teens armed with bottle rockets; unarmed women serving as shields for armed gunmen; terrorists hiding in ambulances and schools.

We were even told that there are circumstances where we should disobey an order. That’s right – our officer told us that if we obey an unethical order, we would be thrown in jail.

So when I hear that the IDF is making new efforts to educate its soldiers about the morality of war, I’m not only not surprised. I’m proud.

After my reading at the Dallas JCC last night, I was approached by a teenager who told me that he, too, plans to join the Israeli Army.

“Are you out of your mind?” I said, only half joking.

He smiled. “Were you?” he asked.

It’s not the first time this kind of thing happened. My book, The 188th Crybaby Brigade, is a brutally honest description of life in the IDF. There aren’t many other books like it, so it seems to be the book of choice among teenagers (and even some in their early twenties) who are seriously considering joining up.

In face, ever since my book came out last spring, I’ve gotten quite a slew of emails from young Jews, both men and women, who want advice. They ask about induction procedures, the battery of entrance tests, and what kind of paperwork they need to file. But their number one question is: “Do you think I should do it?”

It’s a heavy question. Burdensome. A question with many implications and one I’m not necessarily qualified to answer.

So I always tell them the him or her the same thing: that I don’t want to be responsible for someone dying on the battlefield (or in training, as the case may be); but, if they feel like they’ll regret it for the rest of their lives if they don’t serve, then they should do it.

“But be sure to check out my book first,” I warn them. “You might change your mind after you read it.”

Your “what I love about Israel” thoughts keep pouring in. Here are two more, the second one a poem:

I’ve only been to Israel once. I went on a solidarity mission with my Rabbi and a couple of other guys from my shul during the Gulf War. The cabbies wouldn’t take money from us. Half of an IDF platoon ran around the Kotel looking for a band-aid for one of our group after he fell and hurt his knee (once they figured out what we meant by “band-aid”). I planted a tree with my bare hands. We visited an orientation camp for newly arrived Ethiopian Jews. We saw Ethiopian Jews in IDF uniforms. My Rabbi talked us onto a Patriot missile base. I visited cousins in Tel Aviv. We visited the mayor in Tel Aviv. I had to give back my gas mask when we left.

Martin, USA

An unforgettable place.

Sun emblazes wall and dome
brushes hills into gold.

From a bench
in Jerusalem Square,
sipping Turkish coffee,
I watch men, women
walk the cobblestones.
One might be a cousin -
a death camp survivor.

Merging cultures
thicken the air.
Stuffed cabbages, falafel,
honey and pine nuts.

For a moment I forget
stones are being thrown
a kilometre away.

But I breathe a feeling,
is it freedom
out of ashes?

Selma, Walnut Creek, CA

More of the tiny things you love about Israel, beginning with this one about Tel Aviv:

I love the shuk / artists market on Dizengoff Street. My daughter and I could not leave. My youngest daughter who was studying at Tel Aviv University (whom were were visiting), demanded that we go home after 6 hours or she was going to have us committed.
Janet, FL

Actually I love almost everything about Israel starting with the balmy air that enveloped us when we arrived at Tel Aviv in the middle of the night when we visited recently. The taxi ride to our hotel in Jerusalem was with a driver whom we never met before but he acted as a family member, pointing out historic places as we drove by in the night. At the hotel, the Har Zion, Mt.. Zion, we were accompanied to our room by a bellman and noticed a Mezuzah on each hotel room door.. We touched ours and felt we were finally at home. We slept well that night. The next morning we awoke to the panorama of the ancient city of Jerusalem. We were at home.
Agnes, San Francisco

Went to Israel for the first time in the mid-1980′s. After travelling half way around the world, I took a walk in Tel Aviv as soon as we got there and much to my shock all the men on the street looked like my father.
Mort, USA