Blasted from Complacency: A Journey from Terror to Transformation in Israel

By Penny S. Tee

A Vacation Under Fire

As a Jewish child growing up in the United States, Penny S. Tee was raised to care about Israel. But as an adult, events in her ancestral homeland took a back seat to the concerns of her everyday life. All that changed when Penny was thrust to the front lines of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict while vacationing in Israel in 2014. Cowered in a bomb shelter with her family as missiles exploded around them, Penny witnessed the terrors of war firsthand . . . and she would never be the same again.

Blasted from Complacency: A Journey from Terror to Transformation in Israel is Penny's compelling, true account of her harrowing ordeal and how it jolted her out of inaction and caused her to rethink her beliefs. She exposes the terrifying reality faced daily by Israelis and Palestinians, as they struggle to live their lives under the constant threat of attack. She reveals how her experiences ignited in her the desire to work for change. And she shares the valuable life lessons and remarkable insights she has gained along the way. A gripping chronicle of one woman's ongoing quest for peace both within herself and in the world around her, Blasted from Complacency is a revelation with the power to open minds and change hearts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peace Awareness Publishing
• Release date: Jul 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733707817

Penny S. Tee

Penny S. Tee is a nonfiction author, speaker, writer, blogger, and lifelong learner. She is also the creator of PennySTee.com and founder of Penny S. Tee’s Writers4Writers, an online writers’ support group. The driving forces behind her writing Blasted from Complacency were her desires to portray Israel in an honest light and to create an “ethical will” to share with her son. Penny holds both a BS degree and an MBA from the University of Southern California. She lives in California with her family.  

Book preview

AUTHOR’S NOTES

BOOK FORMAT

For my book to feel complete, I wanted to cover a lot of information, yet I also wanted to make it palatable to readers of all types. Consequently, I wrote it in parts. The book is meant to be read from cover-to-cover to get the full picture. However, I realize in today’s busy world, not everyone has the time for that or the inclination. So, I’ve laid out how this book is structured. That way, you can choose to read it all or frolic among the parts that interest you. Following are the main parts of the book and what you will find in each one:

Preface: This explains who I am, why I wrote the book, and what I hope readers will understand from reading it.

The Story (of course, read both parts):

Part 1: Our Israel Adventure: Chapters 1 through 17 cover our family vacation in Israel when we toured incredible historic, religious, and beautiful sites . . . and hid in bomb shelters.

Part 2: The Ever-Changing Penny S. Tee: Chapters 18 and 19 detail the impact my experiences had on my life and psyche, a brief history of the war we found ourselves in the middle of, and some positives about Israel that the public often isn’t aware of. I close with life lessons that I live by and I believe can help you.

Glossary: Here you’ll find an explanation of Yiddish and Hebrew words used in the book.

Resources: This appendix presents the myriad of teachers who have had a profound impact on my transformation and helped guide me to the life I lead today, unfortunately I couldn’t include them all. If you read the books or take the classes, I am not offering a money-back guarantee that the impact of being exposed to them will have the same effect on you. Each person’s path toward becoming the best person they can be is personal. I’m merely telling you what I did and hope you will find that helpful.

BOOK SOURCES

This book is based on a variety of sources. Key documents included emails that I have kept the four-plus years since our trip. I had been reading Anne Frank’s diary, so realizing the importance of communicating how you are feeling when your lives are threatened and you don’t know what is going to happen was on my mind.

I had the need to convey my feelings with urgency as the fear of death played a dirge amid the convolutions of my brain, and I needed to tell family and friends back home what we were experiencing. I wondered what if something horrible happened…if the missiles barreling our way hit their mark.

These were often daily missives of fear and terror emailed after a long day of touring, or after running to bomb shelters. Without these emails, I never would have been able to recapture accurately what happened. Occasionally, there were even laughs amid the absurd.

Most conversations were re-created based on the actual events that occurred. Years later it was impossible to recall the words verbatim; dialogue is representative of the event and/or descriptive of the locations visited. For instance, while visiting various historical sites, the tour guide offered details about what we were seeing. I researched each location and while the information is accurate, it may not match the exact words used.

I received inbound emails as well. Some were warnings from government agencies we registered with before our trip like the U.S. State Department or U.S. Embassies in Israel or France. Additional emails were from the Jewish Federation & Family Services (JFFS), describing up-to-the minute accounts of Israel’s plight and requesting donations to thwart the onslaught of Palestinian missiles and their impact.

I received many responses to my emails consoling me when I was distraught or commenting on my photos of the incredible places we were visiting. Sometimes I received words of encouragement, while other messages were warnings from family, friends or rabbis, who had lived in or visited Israel, France, and England, all countries they knew were on our itinerary.

I reviewed in detail, all the pamphlets I gathered from our tour, and numerous photos I had taken as well as those from my family and friends on the trip.

I felt I had to go beyond a two to three sentence description of the places we visited, so I thoroughly researched every site to ensure that what I wrote was accurately represented.

You’ll note that, while on our tour, I spent time searching the internet for real-time news. I also did extensive research while writing my book, looking at news reports and other analysis of the conflict, as well as reading articles and books about Operation Protective Edge, Israel, Judaism, and other themes in my book. We were there only two weeks, but the conflict continued for seven weeks and as we know, the animosity and terror has played out for centuries.

Disclaimer: I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. Conversations happened or could have happened based on the events. In order to maintain their anonymity, in some instances, I have changed the names of individuals, places, and businesses, and I may have changed some identifying characteristics and details, such as physical properties, occupations, and places of residence.

PREFACE

I still can’t believe we spent part of our vacation running to bomb shelters. It’s been four and a half years since our adventure when I was blasted from complacency on our trip of touring and terror. At the time, I was a well-traveled, Jewish stay-at-home mom and wife raising our 13-year-old son in sunny Southern California.

As an American Jew, I was raised to care about Israel. I carried it in my heart, especially since my first trip in 1989. I made the occasional donation to various Jewish fundraising campaigns and then went about my daily concerns. Israel was a small blip on the radar screen of my life. After all, we were here, they were there, and most of us struggle to keep up with our to-do lists as it is.

But being human targets changed all that. Seeing how Israelis live with the threat of death at any moment, and yet how little compassion they are given, blew my mind. Rather, the news was primarily filled with Palestinian death and injury statistics. The old news adage, If it bleeds, it leads comes to mind.

I tried to absorb the concept of trusting in the unknown, a belief that everything happens for a reason. Although Israelis have every right to be fearful of what might happen, they choose instead to move forward and continue to go to work and attend their kids’ soccer practices. They live by fate—go on with your life; what will be, will be.

Perception is always key in our lives, whether it’s how we view ourselves, our family and friends, or Israelis and Palestinians. How we interpret experiences flavors what makes sense to us—sometimes sweetness tingles our palettes, other times rancid reactions simmer. Events can provoke us to take action. The good news is that we are in control of our thoughts and can choose to change our perceptions if we remain open to the possibility.

This trip was the catalyst to my new life. No longer sitting on the sidelines, I was motivated to act—and I did. I wrote my book; became a speaker; blogged on my website, PennySTee.com; and founded Writers4Writers, my writers’ support group.

I now had a different perspective from the thousands of tourists who visit Israel every year. They too explore the incredible sights, and everyone I’ve spoken to who had the honor to go seems to have left a bit of their heart in Israel.

As I said, before our trip I was like many people. I cared about Israel, but that was as far as it went.

As they say, life gets in the way with more pressing obligations. But I believe we all need—and Israelis deserve people to know—what life as an average person living in Israel is like.

Perspective is the key to understanding everything that happened; yet everyone’s perception is different. It reminds me of the old joke, if you have two Jews, you’ll have three different opinions. From the other people on my tour group to Israelis, Palestinians, and the world at large, opinions about what’s right and wrong can vary drastically and, in this instance, sometimes result in deadly consequences.

In this book I can share only my viewpoint, which I believe is important for many reasons, and especially for one in particular. Beyond wanting to support Israel, work on peace and help pay for my son’s college education, I want my son to someday understand me, my motives and what we experienced through my eyes. During his teenage years, conversations were sparse and short and now he is preparing to leave for college.

It is important for me to leave him with what our rabbi calls my ethical will, an explanation of my heartfelt values and opinions—and for me that is what this book has become.

Through this book I also want to convey how Israelis are forced to live, hoping to earn more empathy and understanding for them. Living in peaceful, fun-filled California, nothing could have been more foreign to me than running to bomb shelters fearing we might be killed. I had to experience it to awaken me.

In some areas in Israel, spending time in bomb shelters is cruelly common—as frequent as picking up the dry cleaning. In the cities adjacent to Gaza, families can be trapped in bomb shelters for days during periods of heavy bombing. Israelis have built protective cement structures in as well as outside their homes, at their offices and over bus stops. In the town of Sderot, with the help of the Jewish National Fund, Israelis built a rocket-proof children’s recreation center and a missile-protected playground with concrete tunnels painted to look like caterpillars.

I hope that by describing our trip, people will have a deeper understanding of Israel’s plight without needing to leave home and risk their lives.

I also know that if there ever is going to be peace, we as Jews need to take the time to look more closely at why the Palestinians launch missiles at Israel. We know that Palestinians are taught to hate Jews as part of their school curriculum, even going as far as saying that we are animals. But what are the effects of Israel’s security policies on the Palestinian people? What is the economic and social impact of having your movements severely constrained behind a wall? We need to ask ourselves if we would want to live like that.

This trip was different from my previous excursion during the first intifada (the uprising that consisted of an economic boycott, refusal to pay taxes, graffiti, building barricades, and widespread throwing of stones and Molotov cocktails at the IDF and its infrastructure within the West Bank and Gaza Strip). On our first tour we weren’t taken where the protests were being held. The Israeli guides’ mantra, We’ll never take you into harm’s way, was effective on that trip. We toured sites undisturbed—without the intrusion of alarms, bomb shelter sprints or fear for our lives. Any stomachaches were caused by one too many falafels, not from a fear of dying.

However, our 2014 vacation was extremely different. Our travels lasted only two weeks, yet the shock of being human targets impacted me profoundly.

I witnessed the impatience of an Israeli businessman who left the bomb shelter before the obligatory 10 minutes had elapsed as the shrapnel from Iron Dome’s (Israel’s mobile air-defense system) handiwork fell from the sky. He had places to go and people to see; the constant bombing was mundane, a nuisance. It made me ask, what does that do to people?

In contrast, I pitied the wide-eyed and terrified young Israeli mother clutching her child to her chest as we hid in a bomb shelter for the second time on our trip. She was clearly suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder as she cried in anguish, There’s no escape! She was a resident of Ashkelon—a favorite Palestinian target. It’s one of Israel’s closest neighbors to Gaza. I empathized with Israeli parents wondering if their kids will return home safe from school or an innocent shopping trip to the mall.

I was distraught about how Israel is often portrayed in the news as a fiend, ready to pummel, kill and maim the Palestinians, because I knew there was so much more to the story that is often not reported.

Despite the thousands of Palestinian missiles shot into Israel, few Israelis have been killed or injured. God bless Iron Dome. Could you imagine the Israeli death toll if they hadn’t had the military ingenuity to stop the missiles from doing their intended damage?

I learned that Israel repeatedly forewarns the Palestinians before they bomb their targets, telling them the exact time they will bomb their facilities. Yet the Palestinians stay.

Their leadership tells their citizens to remain in place, become martyrs, providing their survivors with salaries as payment for giving up their lives for their cause. It is such a sick, inhumane decree—using their people’s lives for heartbreaking propaganda—that I still can’t understand the inhumanity or the belief system that allows them to accept it. But it spurred me to want to do something about it. All humans, Palestinian or Israeli, are valuable and should be respected and allowed to lead happy, fruitful lives.

As a mom, I felt in my kishkas (guts) what it must be like to be an Israeli parent, helping an embarrassed 14-year-old change her sheets in the middle of the night because she peed in her bed, a developmental issue long outgrown by her age group. But then we don’t live with constant missile attacks. How I would feel when my child was shipped off to the IDF after graduating from high school, likely to face death and see unimaginable horror, instead of going off to college? IDF service is mandatory for every Israeli citizen. It’s why the country still stands today, and their pride of survival is palpable. It’s certainly not the unabashed acceptance of freedom without a price that accompanies the privilege of living in the US.

What a horrific reality they’ve lived with for decades, surrounded by enemies within their own country and among their neighbors. Such strong, brave, and resilient people they are . . . they have to be.

I want to give voice to Israelis’ and Palestinians’ absurd existence. Both Israelis and Palestinians are real people trapped in an epic tragedy. Isn’t it time to put an end to this so a new beginning can be forged?

The most egregious aspect of the conflict is that it could be stopped today. Stop the missiles! Stop teaching hate! Let both peoples live free, productive lives . . .

Can they ever get past the complexities and tragedies of their lives to achieve peace? I hope so, but it’s so easy to fall captive to the desire for retaliation even though it can’t bring back loved ones or return land. Without leaders who have peace as their objective, how can there be hope?

Since our trip I have changed exponentially, and it’s reflected daily in my life. My book, speaking career, website, Writers4Writers—none of which existed before our trip—provide great solace and purpose. I had little knowledge of how to accomplish what my heart and soul required as I embarked on this new path, but I moved forward anyway.

Today, I recognize inklings of my current world in previous experiences. How much easier my life would have been if I had recognized what I viewed at the time as failures rather as simply stepping stones along my path? I now understand that everything—bad or good—that occurs in our life happens for a reason. To quote Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam, India’s former president, my new definition for F.A.I.L. is First Attempt in Learning. The most important thing to do is pay attention and become aware.

I am just a mom who left on a family vacation—and was transformed by my experience. If you are looking for a detailed political analysis of the 2014 Israeli-Palestinian conflict, keep looking. So many people more qualified than I struggle to tell this tale and worse yet, grapple to find solutions. I can only tell you about our experiences from my unique perspective. If you are interested in reading more in depth about Israel or teachers who helped lead me to my transformation, check out the Resources section at the end of my book.

After reading my book I hope you will have been entertained by our adventure (after all, we made it out alive and after throwing my panties in the wash they were good as new), learned some new information about Israel, and taken the time to put yourself in Israelis’ and Palestinians’ shoes and imagine how it feels to continuously have your family threatened by death or injury. My desire is that you gain more empathy for the tragic existence of the people who live under these cruel circumstances and maybe even become inspired to want to do something about it. If you do, contact me at [e-mail] and find out how you can do your part.

Peace,

Eretz Yisrael (Land of Israel): A tiny nation with the genius, creativity, and heart of a titan

Chapter One

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Thursday, July 10, 2014

We promised our son a bar mitzvah present. We’ll tour Israel! we told him. We did not expect that gift to come with a tour of a war zone. The itinerary did not mention that we would be cowering in bomb shelters or that I would find my life’s purpose. Yet both came to be.

We were blessed to be in Jerusalem, yet also terrified. Jews are eternally connected to the city and to each other. For centuries, Jews were forcibly scattered throughout the world, called the Diaspora. Yet no matter where we call home, our Jewish hearts are linked in a necklace, united in our love for Jerusalem. Jews still today, no matter the country, pray facing Jerusalem, toward the hallowed Western Wall. We’ve always remembered—could you forget your home?

I was happy to be on our native soil, Eretz Yisrael (The Land of Israel), and showing it to our son, Jacob. I’m not sure he felt the same. I can imagine him thinking: Great present, Mom—taking me to war. I thought you loved me? (Jewish guilt is hard to escape.)

Visiting is one thing, but I could never live in Israel. Perhaps I grew up on too much chicken soup, but from this timid American mom’s perspective, living in Israel is not for the faint of heart. Living in constant fear of terrorists and hostile neighboring countries disposed to destroying you—not my cup of tea. I prefer a nice, bomb-free chamomile.

I’m grateful to have been born, married, and able to raise my son in the good ol’ USA, where the bombings, shootings, and stabbings of ordinary Israeli life are missing from the fabric of our suburban neighborhood.

Now here we were in Israel, with my husband, Michael, our precious 13-year-old son, temple friends, and the tour group—random strangers thrown together by chance, or was it? In the years since our adventure, I’ve grown to believe nothing happens by accident. It was the trip of a lifetime. But soon, we would fear for our lives—our experiences indelibly etched on our souls.

We had been in Israel a week and had seen incredible sacred and historic sites. Like tourists on any tour, but not quite. We had prepared for a vacation—not war. Just before our trip, Palestinians had killed three Israeli teenagers, then settlers had retaliated and killed a Palestinian kid. In the Holy Land, an eye for an eye took on biblical proportions. Daily, Palestinians were rioting and shooting missiles and mortars at Israel, and up until this incident, the rockets had done little damage and had struck other parts of the country. But now violence and bloodshed were escalating at an alarming rate.

With the tensions rising, the U.S. State Department flooded our email inboxes with difficult-to-understand security warnings. We learned that the U.S. Tel Aviv Embassy had relocated and restricted their personnel from traveling south of Tel Aviv. We didn’t know what to do. Should we follow the same guidelines or continue with our trip plans? Did the embassy take this course of action because they worried that their staff’s classified information might get into the wrong hands, or should we follow their lead?

Meanwhile back home, our rabbis, as well as friends who had lived in Israel for years sent dozens of assurances: "You’ll be fine… I feel safer in Israel than going to downtown Los Angeles!"

A friend’s niece who lived in Israel advised, There should be no problem . . . for now.

I was the only one from our family and friends on our trip who thought we should leave. They seemed to be under the spell of the Israeli touring mantra: We’ll never take you into harm’s way. Their attitudes frustrated and confused me. But the feeling was mutual.

We began our tour that fateful morning at 8:30 a.m., examining the Dead Sea Scrolls, visiting Golda Meir’s gravesite, and squeezing through the trenches at Ammunition Hill (the site of the 1967 War that produced the infamous phrase, occupied territory.) After ten hours and two packs of tissues at the Holocaust museum, I was done.

When the bus pulled into the hotel parking lot, Daniel, our tour guide asked, Are there any questions?

What about the bombings? I asked.

Guys, don’t worry, he said. We stay in constant contact with the authorities. We’d never take you into harm’s way.

I piled off the bus with Michael and Jacob.

I’m working in the room and skipping dinner, Michael said. He gave me a peck on the cheek. Jacob, take care of your mother and the other ladies.

Jacob stood a little straighter, taking on his new manly responsibilities. I mused his bar mitzvah had opened a new chapter in his life.

I checked my iPhone, scanning for the latest news, while Jacob and I waited for Annie, Libby, Erin, and Samantha—the temple moms and their daughters. I explained Michael’s absence, and the six of us headed for dinner.

Annie, I said, Did you see the latest alert from the U.S. State Department about the rockets fired on Tel Aviv?

Yes, but we’ve been here for seven days, and no rockets have come close to us. Tel Aviv is 40 miles away. Besides, no one was hurt.

Everyone except me seems to accept Daniel’s promise that he’ll keep us safe. But even if that were true, there are plenty of times after the day’s touring or during Shabbat when we are on our own. Like now. I felt uneasy.

Let’s stop by the pharmacy, Annie said, Libby needs tampons.

Mom! Libby said blushing.

As we entered, the bell on the pharmacy door jangled. Jacob, let’s get snacks. I caught the shop owner’s attention, Excuse me, where are the chips?

They’re in aisle . . . The shopkeeper stopped midsentence and yelled, Quick! Go to the bomb shelter! She slammed and locked the front door. Go, now! She pointed to the back of the store, brandishing her hands like a crazed flight attendant. Her intent eyes darted around the shop, determining her next commands.

What? Oh No! I said, realizing what was happening and grateful she spoke English.

Jacob, follow the Israelis! I shouted. Every molecule of my protective Jewish mom’s DNA kicked in, and I pushed him gently but firmly toward the back of the store. Move!

While we scurried past the packed medicine shelves, toward the bomb shelter, bile rose in my throat. I saw our friends heading our way. It was quickly turning into the most frightening experience of my life. What had we gotten ourselves into?

The merchant had heard the sirens blaring outside. We hadn’t at first. But Israelis’ eyes and ears are ever vigilant. They have to be.

Our luck had run out. The bombs were here now . . . and heading straight toward us.

The three boys whose kidnapping ignited my terror and whose death hurt my soul. What if one of them had been my Jacob or one of your sons?

Source: Brother’s Keeper Operation in Judea & Samaria

Chapter Two

HOW DID WE GET HERE?

July 2014

It was all over the news. On June 12, 2014, three Israeli teenagers, hitchhiking to their homes from their yeshiva (Jewish religious school) in the West Bank settlement of Gush Etzion, were kidnapped. After missing for 2½ weeks, they were found dead. Hamas operatives planned, funded, and murdered the innocent kids.

In retaliation, the day after their funeral, settlers kidnapped a Palestinian teen. Hours later, they found his charred body in the forest.

I felt sick. Retaliation wasn’t going to return the teens to their loved ones. And we were about to take Jacob to Israel?

I emailed our rabbis.

The State Department keeps sending scary messages. Our tour operators know what they are doing and will do their best to keep us safe, but what do you think about us going to Israel given the mishegas [insanity] of current events?

Why can’t I just relax and go with the flow?

Rabbi Leibowitz replied with a comforting email:

Your tour company would never take you into harm’s way. Despite the news, wherever you go in Israel, you will feel quite safe. Think of it like going to Los Angeles. Stopping in certain neighborhoods is not a problem. Yet there are places in L.A. you probably wouldn’t want to visit. You will be traveling to incredible and sacred places in Israel with tour guides who are familiar where to go and where to avoid. Enjoy, and I look forward to hearing about your adventures when you return.

I emailed our tour operator, Shalom Adventures. (Shalom means peace in Hebrew. A positive sign, right?)

The U.S. State department says avoid the Golan Heights, and it’s on our itinerary. Do you have a system to stay abreast of these situations? Are there any changes to where we’ll visit?

Shalom Adventures responded:

We get these emails from concerned tourists all the time. The reports do not necessarily reflect our reality. Everything runs as usual as long as all commercial airlines are flying planes full of tourists to Israel. I know CNN was showing pics of Arab kids throwing rocks and rioting, but this is not anything new. You are safer by far traveling in Israel than any major U.S. or E.U. city.

I grabbed a cold Perrier from the fridge and plopped myself down on the couch. Good to note: If they stop flying planes into Israel, we’re in trouble.

These events happen in Israel occasionally. Why couldn’t I take them in stride like everyone else?

I called Annie. Hi, it’s weird, but I get teary-eyed at the thought of Shabbat in Israel. I don’t go to services often, but this gets to me. I’m glad you found out about the service on the deck at the Tel Aviv Promenade. Imagine, we’re going to be in Israel watching the waves break along the shoreline, with hundreds of people at Shabbat services. It sounds fantastic.

The service should be a unique experience. Annie said. Erin and Samantha want to go too.

Did you hear they found those teenagers dead? I said. Their parents must be devastated. I don’t know how I could live without Jacob.

Yes, it’s sad. By the way, Jason found out he can’t join us on our trip until later. He has to help straighten a few things out at work. Mergers are complicated.

That sucks, I replied in commiseration.

Wow, given what’s going on in Israel right now, I wouldn’t want to travel alone with Jacob, without Michael. But Annie can handle it. I doubt she’s thought twice about being by herself. I admire that quality about her—ever the good soldier.

This is Jacob’s final bar mitzvah present—our trip to Israel, I continued. "Michael uploaded the photos of the bar mitzvah ceremony and party to a scrolling frame. I can see them from where I’m sitting. I love watching each special moment go by. Everyone’s happy and having so much fun at the b’nai mitzvah (a shared bar and bat mitzvah)."

I celebrated the ceremony with my son.