Jews, Palestinians...and Me!

    So, Charles "Chow" Magee, aka, Editor-at-Large of this august publication (who is also known as THE "Man About Town Chip Magee") calls me up from the palatial estate in Myrtle Beach and says, "I hear rumblings of a Palestinian protest march near you. I think you should go and cover it for us. It'll do you good to get out and mingle with people in the winter time. Get your ear to the ground instead of typing whatever you damn well please, and pining about golf season." Because it's Chow and I talking, I'm waiting for the punch line. Well...I'm still waiting. But I said to him, at the time, "Really? C'mon, man! I'm a world famous columnist. Millions of people hang on my every essay! Don Juan's a mess without my prose. If he doesn't get an essay by 6:00 am his wife calls and gives me shit telling me I've ruined his day! She'll divorce him if he doesn't read a new piece at least twice a week! And I got street cred with my gang, the ballers from Bristol. Just talk to the Wood brothers and Bobby Wallick! And I can hobnob with the rich yuppies from Yardley to Cape Cod! Just ask KMAC, Dardes, and, well who needs anyone else when you can talk to KMAC and JD, right? A beat reporter? Really?" Believe it or not, my argument was unpersuasive. 

    So there I was, Peter Brent Hall, your intrepid reporter, amidst one of the oldest feuds in the history of Man...in Newtown, Pa., no less. Now, Newtown is a little hamlet of a borough in Bucks County, Pa. surrounded by a township of the same name with upscale homes, farms, and tree-lined, two-lane roads that are beautiful and scenic and can take you anywhere you'd like. But back to the borough. Nothing much happens in the borough...most of the time. This particular evening, things got a little interesting. And let's be honest, as much as I was frighteningly curious, as I have written on this topic a couple of times and my sympathies are well known, I wanted to see how all this would play out. And in case things went really bad, I even called a couple of friends and bequeathed to them my collection of Barry Manilow music AND my Tito Puente recordings! To the Divine Ms. A. and Don Juan...too bad...I'm still alive! Better luck next protest!!

    Anyway, the evening started as most evenings do when mayhem is expected...it was boring. AND COLD! For the love of King David, it was 19 degrees with a wind chill! I mean, really? Can't these people march in June? And aren't fascists supposed to be sticklers for time? The ancient Egyptians, the Romans, the Nazis...all sticklers to the almighty clock. Not these people! The march was supposed to start at 5:30 and they were nowhere to be seen as of 6:00 pm. But then I started thinking...Maybe this whole protest thing was a ruse! Maybe the Palestinians just told us they were going to march so we would be stupid enough to stand out here and freeze our tuchus' off! Hmmm..."Pretty sly," I said to a gentleman laughing beside me. 

    I was standing and chatting with a bunch of pro-Israel demonstrators, counter-protesters, if you will, carrying Israeli and American flags, along with various signs supporting Israel and the hostages that are still being held by these animals. There was even a woman with a sign saying, "Please Don't Kidnap Me." Now, most of us thought it was funny, but I made my way over to her to let her know that, if she was serious, she didn't have anything to worry about. Well, I'm the idiot...again! When I asked her about the sign, she said, "Oh, no. I know I'm safe. I just wanted to know if these people understood sarcasm!" This woman, whose name I didn't even get, is now one of my favorite people! 

    Everyone was nice and courteous, and as would be expected, very, very angry and sad. Some had relatives in Israel and were scared to death...with good reason. Some had relatives who had been killed in the attacks. And some still hadn't heard a thing. The not knowing is what most affected me. And even though it was, by now, dark...you could see the pain in the eyes of all of them, even the ones laughing and joking. But especially the ones who did not know.  

    When they asked about me and what my connection to the topic at hand was, I smiled and told them I was a fervent supporter of Israel, and of the lonely freedom and democracy it represents in the cauldron that is the Middle East. And to let them know I would go to the mat for them tonight and any other night there is a protest against Israel's right to exist. "I can be your token Gentile," I laughingly said. They laughed even harder when I told them how I was the token Levittowner at all my Yardley friends' parties. "They want to feel that they're being inclusive and multicultural," I joked. Since these people were all from the area, they laughed even harder! I was glad I could break the ice a little. 

    The laughter ended soon enough. I had walked away from my new-found friends to look around and see if this was, in fact, going to happen. As I made my way up to the other end of the large shopping complex where we were standing, I saw them. About 30 people with signs, a bullhorn, and a car out in front of them coming down one of the main roads off of what we, around here, call the Bypass. They marched down the middle of the road heading toward one of the main streets in Newtown Borough. Police SUVs were everywhere, at every intersection; directing traffic and making sure the protesters were allowed to do their thing, as well as keeping every day traffic and rush hour people safe and moving along. As an aside, the police did a great job all night. And I can imagine that they had no idea what was going to transpire, but they were ready for anything. 

    So the police escorted the Palestinian marchers from points A, to B, to C; protecting their constitutional rights, which I fully support. I mean, they get to march, and I get to call them Nazis. That's how it works. The flip side of that is, once the pro-Israeli crowd saw them (and once I saw them and saw they were heading in the general direction of my new-found friends), I admit to getting a little nervous. The Palestinians were in the street and I was on the sidewalk, just ahead of them. All of a sudden, every one of those Israeli supporters (about 50 or 60 of them) moved as one toward the Palestinians. Signs and flags were waving, people started shouting, and your humble reporter found himself surrounded by a tsunami of emotions.

    I've been a residual part of various demonstrations throughout the years. I was too young for the Viet Nam crowd, but as I got a little older I would be a somewhat passive bystander at various marches that I agreed with. And then as I got a lot older, I decided that writing about things was more my speed, as it were. While I respect the demonstrators, I don't respect the carnage that can ensue (see the Black Lives Matter marches), and I'm not sure what gets accomplished, unless A) it's massive and has bipartisan support (see the Civil Rights marches); and B) the stakes are overwhelming. Well, I kept walking with my new friends because the stakes ARE overwhelming, and for something I believe in deeply. 

    And so it happened. As a young man with a poster came running to catch up with the Palestinian marchers who were now a little ahead of me heading into Newtown Borough, I uttered the words that, to be honest, I was looking forward to uttering all night. I said, in a somewhat loud voice, "Hey, the Nazis have arrived." Now, I believe that. And I can make a case for that. I believe these people are direct descendants of Hitler's Nazis. I also know some of you might think it's childish, and maybe you're right. And I knew that somebody or two or three might get in my face. But man, it felt good. As it happened, the running man was Palestinian (oh, boy), and he stopped dead in his tracks. "Here we go," I thought. "Let's see if you're as tough as you think you are, Peter." 

    Well, it was for the most part, anticlimactic. This young man turned around and, standing about 10 paces from me, accused me, quite loudly, of living in and supporting a country that drops bombs on people and kills women and children. I, of course, was confused as I had not heard that the US military was bombing Gaza, but let's assume that this guy thought I had flown all the way from Israel to take part in an anti-demonstration in Newtown, Pennsylvania. Go figure. When I said, "Well, be that as it may, Hamas started this fight invading a sovereign nation, slaughtering and beheading infants, and raping women until they died, etc., etc., etc., and Israel is probably, and hopefully, going to finish it." We then moved closer to each other and he screamed, "We're here to end the occupation!" I said, "What occupation? Israel left Gaza 20 years ago." Well, just like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, he was late to join his friends whom I hope are better acquainted with current events AND history, than he is. But before he ran off, I called after him... "Hey, where do YOU live?" He turned around and replied, "I live here and go to university here." While one doesn't wish to condemn a whole university system based on one man, I smiled and nodded, knowingly. 

    But then another amazing thing happened...an older woman from the group of people who befriended me, out of nowhere and walking at a brisk pace, started yelling at the man I was, sort of, conversing with. She was actually screaming at this man who, she assumed, correctly, was pro-Palestinian. You could hear it in her voice...she was lost, and she had lost. There was a police officer nearby, and I knew he was trying to keep the peace. This woman was beside herself, and it was just the two of us and this person whom we both despised for different reasons, just a few paces away. She was desperate in her pain and anguish. And she just kept yelling and accusing, and the police officer kept inching closer and closer. I asked her to calm down. "Let them be stupid and murderous," I said. "Don't lose your humanity, or get hurt, or be arrested for this guy. That's my job. You've paid the price and done your time. It's my turn." Her husband came up, gently took hold of her arm and smiled at me as he guided her away. I will never forget the anguish in her voice.

    As the Palestinian marchers went their way deeper into the borough, I caught up and followed for a couple of blocks on Sycamore Street. I was struck by the fact that they kept repeating just two "slogans." The one was the familiar call for genocide, "From the river to the sea..." and another one I couldn't quite make out, but it was just as inane and genocidal. It was clear these people needed a new writer; someone like the Original G and the gang when they were coming up with original, inventive stuff during our high school basketball games. "G, my man, if you're reading this...these nitwits can't hold a candle to you and the gang!"

    Now, because I was starting to feel a little cocky, I caught up to these misguided souls (as well as the gentleman that I was "talking with" earlier) and in a rare show of courage in the face of the 30+ people marching for Palestinian something or other...I repeated my earlier words for all to hear, "Just to be clear," I said, and I quote, "None of you are going to rape, murder, or behead anyone tonight, right? Because I'm going home soon and I just want to make sure my friends are safe." You can imagine the response, which was as obnoxious as what I had said. But nothing happened because a big, burly, Newtown Borough police officer was standing, unbeknownst to me, just a few yards away. He advised me to play nice, or he would have to intervene...and I knew what that meant...Don Juan and The Divine Ms. A might actually get their music!! But I knew he was right. I was, maybe, out of line. I stopped, started walking back in what was now 40 BELOW, North Pole, Alaska weather, toward where I was parked; saw and said goodbye and exchanged phone numbers with a couple of new friends I had met earlier; then made my way home hoping I would remember as much as I could because I knew I was going to write this. 

    As a coda, let me state, AGAIN for the record, that I am wholeheartedly in favor of freedom of assembly and freedom of speech. That's what these supporters of Palestine (I'm trying not to be a prick and remind everyone that, technically, there is no Palestine, but...whatever) were marching and chanting for. I support their right to do that. And I would do my best to protect that right. I also support my new found Israeli friends (and me), to stand up and offer a rebuttal to their noxious cause. And let's be clear: their cause is NOT Palestinian rights. They may sympathize with the Palestinians in Gaza, but nobody in the Middle East, let alone in America gives a DAMN about the Palestinians in Gaza. Is that sad...Yes, it is. Frightfully, so! But their cause, whether it's 30 people marching in Newtown, Pa., or thousands of protesters in any number of countries around the world, is anti-Semitism. Their cause is the eradication of a State and it's People. I take great pride in now being, for my new friends, a token Gentile, in the most wonderful sense of that phrase. And I stand with Israel. 

write to Peter: magtour@icloud.com