the news that a Scud had struck the Tel Aviv suburb of Savyon, where Misha himself ltved. He immediately excused himself and went to phone his wife, Muriel, to confirm she was fine. When he returned, despite their pro forma words of empathy, it seemed almost as if the Americans thought we had cooked up t

de, as long as everyone eventually got to say what they wanted. My mother regarded people who were “too polite” with suspicion: “You never know what Muriel is really thinking,” she would say about my extremely polite Aunt (by marriage, of course) Muriel, who lived upstairs from us and was married to my

the news that a Scud had struck the Tel Aviv suburb of Savyon, where Misha himself lived. He immediately excused himself and went to phone his wife, Muriel, to confirm she was fine. When he returned, despite their pro forma words of empathy, it seemed almost as if the Americans thought we had cooked up t