A few days ago, as I was talking to a close female friend, a thirty-year-old Filipina physicist at a prestige university in California, an idea came to me. “I feel so terrible about what’s happened in Israel,” she said to me. “The mass rapes. Burying Israeli women and girls alive, their throats slit, suffocating, while the terrorists stood over them laughing as they bragged about their murders to their parents on their cell phones. It’s unbelievable that this is happening. The Führer must be jumping for joy in hell.”
“I have a thought for you,” I said to her. “I’ll buy you a gold Star of David at Tiffany. You can wear it as you are out and about in L.A. It shows that Israel still has some friends, even among Asians.”
Tears came to my friend’s eyes. “I would love to wear that Star of David,” she said. Two days later she reported to me some bad news.
“I have to tell you,” she said. “I’m a bit afraid to wear that necklace,” she said. “People are giving me dirty looks and saying scary things to me. This is happening in West L.A.”
“I get it,” I said. “You don’t have to wear it one more day. Maybe just bring it to your home. Why risk your beautiful neck in front of these maniacs?”
“I don’t want to insult you,” she said. “I know how much it meant to you.”
“It means nothing to me compared with how much you mean to me.”
“But to think this is happening in America,” she said.
“I know. It’s flat out horrible. But you mean everything to me. They’re teasing about an Asian supporting Israel. The hell with them. They’re crazy people.”
“Maybe I can start wearing it again when the war between Israel and Hamas is over,” she said.
“It’s never going to be over.”
And that’s where we left it, with her perfect shining brown eyes staring into mine.
God help us.
And now it’s still going on every hour of every day. God help us, again. God help us.
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