8/6/99
Never
a dull moment
Did anything
happen yesterday?
Silly question.
I did some
research recently,
and concluded
that 97 percent
of all major world
news events take
place in Israel.
What a
country. On any
given day, there
are a dozen incredible
stories simmering,
a handful percolating,
two or three on
the boil, and
one exploding.
When is the last
time you saw a
Page One lead
story in this
here paper that
didn't happen
here, or directly
affect us?
It's not
like this in Canada,
from whence I
hail. Canadian
papers have to
give weight to
domestic news
(they can't always
put Israeli news
as the lead item),
but nothing ever
happens there,
which is a problem
for the editors.
I shouldn't
say nothing
ever happens
there. Once a
year, on average,
something happens.
By comparison,
in Israel, something
happens four times
a day.
Newspapers
from Newfoundland
to British Columbia
have to get excited
about something
Canadian, and
so they do. "Governor-General
demands upgrade
of snowblowers";
or "Canadian
dollar gains on
drachma";
or "Report:
Saskatchewan to
stay put."
When absolutely
nothing happens,
there are standbys
exposes or probes
for investigative
journalists: acid
rain on Baffin
Island; the safety
of hockey goalie
equipment; the
rising popularity
of Nova Scotia
singers in America.
Up there in Canada,
this is front
page stuff.
I remember
hearing, back
in the '70s, of
a newspaper in
Alberta, I think,
that by necessity
had to run a desperately
boring story about
a lengthy economic
conference, day
after day after
day after day
-- as the Page
One lead story.
After some time,
one of the editors
got restless.
He tried an experiment,
running the exact
same banner headline
every day until
someone noticed.
No one did.
Even the
ongoing drama
about Quebec's
quest for independence.
Pulsating? No.
Bo-o-o-oring.
In Quebec itself
it's called the
"neverendum
referendum."
When finally
the most recent
referendum was
held, in November
1995, Canada at
last earned a
spot on the world's
front pages. Oh,
Canadians were
proud of that!
Know what happened?
The very next
day, Rabin was
assassinated.
Canada was forgotten
again.
It wouldn't
be such a bad
thing for Israel
to be a humdrum
place once in
a while. But life
isn't like that
over here -- on
both the macro,
and micro levels.
The macro, which
is what you read
in the papers,
has six million
Israelis all agog,
saying, "Do
you believe this?
What will be?
I can't take anymore
of this, I'm going
to Turkey for
a week."
The micro, which
is what befalls
you and you alone,
doesn't usually
make the papers,
but has you all
agog, saying "What
a day I had! One
thing after another;
unbelievable!"
The average
Israeli experiences
about 14 remarkable
micro events in
a given day, usually
one after the
other, but sometimes
several at a time.
The reason is:
mundane occurrences
would be, in Canada,
merely tiresome,
but here, it's
always, always,
always a story.
Whether it's shopping
in the supermarket,
or driving home,
or taking out
the trash, something
out of the ordinary
has to happen.
I have
a habit of reviewing
the day I've had
when I go to bed,
and previewing
the following
day. I wish I
could stop that,
because I spend
more time reviewing
than sleeping.
It's madness,
this country.
Such a
small place, not
really so many
people, but what
we endure!
Here's
proof that I'm
not exaggerating:
take a look at
a newspaper from
a year ago, or
even six months
ago. Scan the
headlines: the
events, the people
who were famous
then, the issues
that inflamed
us at that time,
ponder the notch
on the timeline
of our country's
development based
on that day's
stories. You know
what? You'll laugh.
It'll all seem
like ancient history.
Some of the newsmakers
from then will,
by now, be long
forgotten, or
will have evolved
into something
incomparably different.
Or try
this test: get
out a paper from
a week ago, and
see how much has
happened since
then. Imagine
if you could have
believed then
all that has
transpired by
now.
And in
Canada, a week
ago, six months
or a year ago,
it'll all be the
same news menu
as today.
Here? Never
a dull moment.
I was unable
to sleep at 3
o'clock one Friday
morning, three
years ago. It
was one of those
nights with too
much to review:
I was the editor
responsible for
the Post's weekend
feature pages,
and Lord, what
didn't happen
that day, and
all week. Absolutely
unrelenting insanity.
It was during
the time of the
bus bombings,
and it's hard
to remember now,
but there was
so much more happening
at the same time
as well.
Anyway,
I was lying in
bed, and I thought,
gee, this is great.
It's 3 a.m., everything
is completely
still and quiet.
At this second,
nothing is happening,
nothing, nothing
at all, nowhere
in the entire
country.
I felt
such immense relief.
That very
moment, I was
nearly jolted
out of bed.
An earthquake.
