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    Posted November 21, 2012 by
    Eshkol Region, Western Negev, Israel

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    Warning: Clown in a Full Metal Jacket


    What’s more fun than a barrel of monkeys? A busload of clowns, of course! And if a busload can’t reach the warzone, one needs to call upon one embedded clown to do the job solo!


    I consider myself an eternal optimist – and a pacifist. But sometimes life presents you with lemons, and you can either pucker up or you can go make lemonade.


    Yesterday, on the seventh day of the Pillar of Defense, a bunch of brave medical clowns from the center of the country got into a vehicle and came down south to do what they do best: make people laugh. They visited children and adults who had ventured out of their homes to shelters to congregate and socialize a little.


    I had intended to join them, but since I live directly on the border, the roads in my area were especially problematic, and closed by the army. MY home; MY roads – closed.


    This war has been going on for seven days. I have written 6 iReports about it already. I have been interviewed by journalists. I have had my school closed. I cannot safely venture out of my house to take a stroll in the community or the surrounding fields, for fear of incoming mortars and rockets, (which do not ALWAYS give us the 10 second warning to take cover). Tens of them have fallen in our area ( more than a dozen have fallen among the community houses). Going out to walk my dogs twice a day has turned into a life-endangering activity. Twice I have had to sprint for cover while taking them out. But the fact that I could not join my fellow medical clowns – a visit that was instigated at MY request – pushed me over the edge. For the first time since this war started, I cried.


    I guess I really needed that.


    And after I had my cry, I called my good friend, who is also grounded by this war. And her words inspired me to action. She said: “Go make the f#%^ing lemonade!” I announced to the secretary of my kibbutz that I would be making an appearance, on my own, in the community’s bomb shelter –cum-clubhouse. I kitted up, (adding a flak- jacket and helmet , which I thought were an appropriate fashion statement) and set out to do my thing.


    There are NO children left here on the kibbutz – they have been evacuated to safer regions. Only about a fifth of the usual population are here. But those who are here, deserve some comic relief. Laughter heals and strengthens our immune systems, physically, and our psyches emotionally.


    I made people laugh under fire.

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