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in English. (We in Israel are too poor to publish something
like this, but here in America, it is different;
so I write in English.)
Right now I have nothing better to do, than to write, think and
write!
I am sitting by my desk looking out the window; looking at the
red tint of the snow, at the wheat colored tress which
forest my home. My home? My house! How can I describe my
house to an Israeli, who has never seen such a house.
Dear brother: this house is made of wood. Wood on the outside,
wood on the inside. I know your house is all stone; all stone
and cement; mine isnít. Can you imagine that instead of stone
tiles covering the floor, I have hard wood; mahogany stained,
highly polished floors?
Israel is still a stone city, Beverly isn't. My house is called
a Cape Cod Home, but really what does that indeed mean to one
who's never seen a Cape Cod Home. The best I can say is that you
live with stone and I live with wood. Many trees, much greenery,
and plenty of rain. yet it is cold here, but only outside, never
inside.
I don't like walking in the cold, even if I am bundled up. So
if anything I miss a Mediterranean climate. But do I miss Israel
that is the question? No I do not miss reserve duty. No I do
not miss the daily panic reports regarding your economic Plights,
or your War and Peace let downs. What is it I miss besides the
warm climate?
It is snowing now... my house is like a museum, I must tell you so...
everything is aesthetically in its place...carpets, antiques
carved wood, rich paintings...soon I will take my car and drive
to my store and mingle with the people.
The people here are well mannered. they don't litter the streets
like we...like you do...the streets are clean and this town
has no need to put bars upon their store windows...people here
are not immigrants...everyone is well dressed...and the cars
are new.

Irwin R. Shaw - November 7th 1985