Josh is speaking soothingly to his horse in English, while his teacher is giving commands in Hebrew, and I'm achieving a new level of humility as I consider that the horse is more comfortably bilingual than I am. It's anything but the typical, idyllic scene repeated at countless riding stables in the West, but it hits me that for all its improbability, it feels perfectly normal. Beautiful Jerusalem hills in the background, a pair of Israeli fighters streaking across the sky, and a nervous 10-year old in the nearby corral getting lessons from a wrangler in cowboy boots, spurs and tzitzis flapping in the breeze.
Sunday, December 29, 2002
A pessimistic practical optimist in Israel. Howard has been nudging me to do something about all my archived draft posts. Some of them are outdated by now, but this essay, which I bookmarked last summer, stands the test of time.

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