A grand adventure!

How snafus turned out delightfully

May 20, 2025

Gaza protests

Shortly after October 7, 2023, my son Julian became an ardent supporter of Gaza. He railed against Israel. At the time, this was somewhat unusual, since he freely admitted to being Jewish. I was still on the “Israel is the ultimate haven for the Jews” bandwagon. We squabbled in texts and emails. When he asked for my reasons, I said, “It’s complicated.” We stopped speaking for a few weeks.

I felt terrible about our rift, and didn’t want to lose our relationship, for any reason. We slowly began communicating again and he sent me videos, articles, and other thoughtful research on the history of Israel and the Palestinians. I had been feeling uneasy about the Israelis’ treatment of Palestinians over the years, which didn’t jibe with the messages I’d been taught about Israel’s side of the story.

Everything Julian gave me to read and watch made sense, and also felt right intuitively. It didn’t take much time for me to “go over to the other side,” and become a Jew who no longer supported Israel. I continued immersing myself in an education about Gaza and Palestine, and became active in two Jewish groups that are pro-Palestinian and anti-Zionist: Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP) and If Not Now.

I also recently joined Code Pink, a group of feminists dedicated to peace and a Free Palestine. On Fridays, I watch the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC)’s weekly Palestine Action Hour, which features excellent speakers, many of whom live or formerly resided in Gaza.

I took a big breath before buying a keffiyeh (the distinctive checked scarf, symbolic of Palestine), which was a major public pronouncement of my support for Palestine. I love its beauty and meaning, and wear it most days.

Julian and I became closer and closer, over our shared compassion for and solidarity with the people of Gaza, and we exchanged books on the subject. He alerted me to in-person appearances by authors, such as Susan Abulhawa, who wrote “Mornings in Jenin.” I was thrilled to attend, and he livestreamed it from Austin. (I was seated near the cameraman, and Julian excitedly wrote me afterward, “Mom! Mom! I saw you!”)

When I visited Julian at his home in Austin, we attended an online Palestinian book club meeting for that book. It was wonderful to experience that together. And we went to a rally and march for Palestine in downtown Austin, and walked side-by-side, chanting together.

I quipped afterward, “There are many activities that a mother and son could share. But I never dreamed of this one!”

It’s interesting that most of the anti-Trump rallies and marches I attend are frequented by people who are middle-aged and older. On the other hand, the Gaza protests predominantly attract young people, which is evidenced by the university protests that have been drawing reprisals by the U.S. government.

It came as no surprise when Julian texted me last month and told me that two of the most well-respected advocates for Gaza, Gabor Mate and Chris Hedges, were going to appear at a fundraiser for Palestinian children in New York City, at the New York Society for Ethical Culture, on May 5, 2025.

At first, he suggested it as an event I should attend. But very quickly, he began working on a plan to make a whirlwind 24-hour trip from Austin to New York and home again. We both became more and more excited about the idea.

Our rendezvous in New York almost didn’t happen. Julian flew into Newark Airport, home of numerous air traffic control snafus, due to shorthanded staffing. His flight was delayed around four hours. We texted throughout the day. I kept my plans to arrive in NYC by 1pm — which was when we had hoped to meet for a leisurely late lunch. Because of his plane’s delay, I decided to call an old friend who lives in New York. I hadn’t seen her in about 40 years. Despite the driving rain all day, I walked to her apartment from Penn Station and we had a long catch-up chat.

a rainy day in New York City

I then started walking uptown, in the direction of the venue. I was almost knocked over by a huge crowd of people. I realized I was at Grand Central Station, which certainly earned its reputation that evening. At this point, I was getting tired and decided to take a taxi the rest of the way.

It was challenging to find a taxi from there to the Ethical Society, which was crosstown, at rush hour. I began wondering if you needed to reserve a cab in advance; or if it was the inclement weather that caused the shortage of taxis. I finally caught one and we crawled up the fifteen blocks to Central Park, then crawled some more across to the West Side.

I arrived an hour before the event began, and I methodically spoke with each of the people at the various doors, letting them know that my son’s flight and subsequent transit had been delayed but that he would show up. I arranged for us to sit in the front row, due to my hearing loss, and all was set for his arrival.

However, he sent me a series of frantic texts: stuck on NJ Transit in a tunnel in Newark, due to four tracks being out of service; then stuck on a subway going uptown in New York City. He finally wrote me and said if he was lucky, he’d get to see the last half of the two-hour event.

I was on pins and needles, awaiting each of his texts. I silently prayed for the director of the Palestine Children’s Fund, to talk at length and give Julian more time to arrive. Indeed, he showed a film, followed by a Palestinian-American singer-songwriter, who sang three songs. After each one, I fervently hoped that Julian would get here in time for the speakers.

The fates were with us! Julian raced in, just as Gabor Mate’s son Aaron introduced him and Chris Hedges. Gabor and Chris each gave a talk about Gaza and about this being the moral issue of our time. Gabor has the most compassionate manner, and he speaks haltingly, in hushed tones. It’s impossible to watch him and not weep.

Chris, on the other hand, is a pragmatic journalist who delivers the facts in a far less emotional way — but they are just as stunning and his words are scathing.

Following the individual talks, the two sat in comfortable chairs and had a conversation about Gaza and the world’s lack of response. While I was captivated by the back-and-forth volleys, a part of me was distracted, watching Julian and his reaction, which was starstruck and joyful. This made me ecstatic.

In the midst of a sorrowful story about the people in Gaza and their suffering, I felt joy in my heart because I was truly at home with the people gathered at the Ethical Society that night. Seeing keffiyehs throughout the room was like “coming out.” For so long, I’d been forced to scrutinize who I can tell about my feelings for Gaza, knowing that many of my Jewish friends and relatives would see me as a traitor. Yet, here, we were all on the same side.

A Q&A period followed the conversation. The people asking questions seemed to have rarefied personas — a quality consistent with living a certain kind of life in NYC. There was a somewhat contentious/somewhat humorous moment when a woman who was the child of Holocaust survivors asked Gabor how she could get over her guilt. His grandparents perished in the Holocaust, which is well known to people who follow his work. He asked the woman if she believed that he should feel guilty.

She said, “Of course not.” And he replied, “Well, then, how is it possible for you to believe that, and also believe you should feel guilty? It’s either one or the other — you have to decide and let the other one go.”

the destruction of Gaza

Following the Q&A, we all made our way out of the auditorium, stopping to speak with people clustered in the aisles. Julian was elated to speak in person with several people he’d only communicated with online. He gave them one of his leather key fobs, which he makes in his leathercraft studio and brings with him to special Palestinian events. They are always graciously received.

There is something astonishing about seeing someone you respect and admire from afar, in person. The old phrase, “larger than life,” comes to mind. It’s the reason why Julian and I were so hell-bent on getting to New York and struggling with an all-day downpour and transit snafus.

The evening’s surprises hadn’t ended yet. As we stepped outside onto Central Park West, Julian spotted the main actor in a Palestinian film, “The Teacher,” which he had just seen. (It hasn’t come to a theater in Philly yet, so I’m still waiting.) He gave the actor a key fob, and the man was positively overjoyed. He threw his arms around Julian and it was like old home week.

At this point, it was 11 o’clock and most restaurants, even in NY, were closed. We consulted our phones and then decided to just walk over to Broadway and then downtown toward Penn Station, where we were catching a midnight train to Philly.

We ended up at the Carnegie Deli & Cafe, which made me think of my dad’s old expression, “This joint is jumpin’!” We tucked into some major league overstuffed sandwiches and talked about the evening’s events, all while feeling blissed out.

When we got to Penn Station, we encountered a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon: the train station was almost deserted. The Philly train was the last to depart, and there couldn’t have been more than fifteen of us. We admired the soaring glass roof that had been installed since our last trip to the Big Apple, and then boarded the train to Philly, where we continued our enthusiastic conversation.

At 30th Street Station in Philly, we discovered that it had finally stopped raining, so we decided to take a leisurely walk home, continuing our chatting all the way.

Once we reached my apartment, we sat up till 3am, talking some more, knowing full well that Julian had an 11 am flight to Austin to catch and we’d need to get up early. He’s young and I was exuberant, so the lack of sleep didn’t bother us.

We had shared an emotional experience, which deeply touched our souls. To think that it was only a year or so since Julian had “radicalized” me — my not-so-tongue-in-cheek description of the education I went through, learning about Palestine and the real story of Israel.

Who would have believed that we’d be in NY, at a discussion of the moral issue of our time, with two of our absolute heroes? To reach this point, with Julian and me together, was almost impossible to describe. Julian’s 24-hour whirlwind trip would become the stuff of stories we’d tell for years to come. Julian pronounced it “our harebrained idea,” and yet, it all made sense and worked out beautifully.