The tallest arch in the world, considered one of the most popular tourist attractions in the United States, is the Gateway Arch, located in the city of St. Louis, Missouri.
The steel arch is 192 meters high, and you can take a special trolley to the upper arches of the arch and enjoy views of the city and the Mississippi River.
What is interesting?
Well, apart from the fact that this is indeed In an impressive and rare monument, I chose to open my description of the last few weeks in which I have been staying in the picturesque and magical city of St. Louis, for medical treatment of a family member.
If in my previous list I described New York City, its noise, and the hundreds of thousands of people who give the individual the feeling that he is a tender stalk in the human field, the city of St. Louis, in eastern Mississippi, appeared and taught me that it is possible to live in a vast area of hundreds of thousands of residents and feel that you have not yet left Kibbutz Shaalavim, and even the voice of the settlement secretary calling on the members to leave the dining room sounds clearly with an American accent.
There are no apartment buildings in St. Louis. The residents all live in private houses, which are covered on the sides with green grass.
Prof. Yuval Harari once said that grass was used In the past As a status symbol that proves that its owner has a lot of wealth, which he is able to spend on water and watering an insignificant and useless plant.
In St. Louis, it turns out, the grass doesn't prove anything. It's a kind of floor, or if you like, what they call 'asphalt' in Israel.
Grass deposits are visible in every corner, and Hami Hovav theVegetation [and also vegan Chinese restaurants] muttered happily because he felt dizzy from the green.
I specifically asked to read the residents' water bills, and check whether they develop blisters and allergic itching as a result of the endless beating on the grass, and the direct friction with the diarrhea in its midst.
Little squirrels from Disney movies run around between the houses, which actually constitute a refreshing contrast to the fat cats of Kiryat Sefer and its garbage cans.
The roads are calm, and even the strange traffic laws of the US don't disturb the peace.
For example, a green traffic light that allows you to turn left is only a recommendation, since a car may be coming at high speed from the opposite direction, which has the right of way according to the law. A red traffic light that turns right is also just a kind of good suggestion, since a police officer who notices you turning right despite the red circle will smile politely at you and not say a word.
In general, smiling in St. Louis is a contagious phenomenon. Everyone smiles at everyone else, the people in the elevator, in the hospital, in the stores, are polite, thank you for every action, and don't feel like you're competing for the same valuable resources as a line at a clerk in Israel.
""In St. Louis, they don't honk their horns on the roads either," a local joked to me, and she was absolutely right.
You can send a WhatsApp message at a green traffic light, including a picture and a smiley with a tear, and the black woman driving the jeep behind you will just ask if you're feeling okay. She won't honk.
On the one hand, this behavior is exciting, on the other hand, I haven't been able to come to a conclusion whether this is indeed a gentle mentality or whether the drivers are simply afraid to wake up the snails in the fields.
After all, in this sleepy city, even the quiet scoundrels who make up a significant portion of the population have their own rights.
Nine in the morning, main road. Us, an old man on a bicycle, and the Yishuvshim
Among the thousands of grassy areas, there is also a huge park called 'Forest Park'.
Surprisingly, it consists of 1300 acres of grass, allowing golf enthusiasts to turn the place into a giant playground.
I consistently have a bit of a hard time following this depressing game. A man gets out of a small car loaded with golf clubs, hits his golf club at a cue ball, and immediately makes a sound in his throat that makes it clear that he has, for a rare reason, not hit the tiny hole twenty yards away.
Both he and I, the Israeli with the three-quarter pants and mismatched shirt from the small neighborhood of Brachfeld, know that he has never scored a hole, and the distance between the fence and the hole, which is sixteen meters, makes that quite clear.
What is this voice acting for? Who is it for? You've never been there before. Close to the hole. You know that. How is it possible to put such a small ball in a hole from tens of meters away using a stick? The player then approaches and slowly brings the ball closer to the hole, until he is standing 20-30 centimeters away from it [I was standing right next to it], and he rolls it into the hole, pleased with himself.
I so wanted to ask him where the satisfaction comes from, isn't it, after all, hard to miss from 20 centimeters away? I remained silent.
He was holding a stick and it seemed like he wouldn't miss the big, curly circle resting on my shoulders.
The person photographed has nothing to do with what is said in the article.
For example, on Shabbat Eve, my father-in-law parked his car, of course by mistake, next to a business, next to the synagogue. The business apparently isn't doing very well, as the area around it is pitifully empty during the week, but none of that stopped him from sticking a sheet of paper on the window warning us to move the car.
The long Sabbath led him repeatedly to the car and to adding heartwarming text like: I'll tow your car, I took your number, etc.
There's nothing like the good, smiling Americans.
Blood is not water.
But this entire description is relevant until we get to the Jews.
I may be guilty of the old Jewish arrogance, but just like my recent description of the good people from Chabad of Manhattan, the Jews in St. Louis are behaving like angels who accidentally landed on our bitter and difficult planet today.
The city of St. Louis is famous for its professional hospital, and people from around the world come to perform complex surgeries, especially in the neurological field.
So what does the local Jewish community do towards their brothers who come from different places?
It's hard to believe, but they purchased a luxurious house with the help of Michael and Carol Steinberg - considered the most generous Jews in St. Louis, where they house the families for free. The house is luxuriously furnished, and loaded with food, drinks, media, and even medicine.
It doesn't end here.
The community committee, headed by a Jew named Rabbi Zvi Zuribin, and other members and friends who include the various communities in the city [such as Agudat Israel, Chabad, Young Israel and many others], prepare hot, kosher meat meals for families every day, which are delivered directly to the home, while at the same time they send meals to the hospital, and accompany the sick like family members.
Sounds too good? It's hard to believe until you get there.
What leads people - strangers until yesterday - to support another Jew, unknown, religious, secular Ashkenazi, Mizrahi, and unidentified so intensely? No one knows about it. The community committee and certainly the anonymous women and men do not receive any publicity for their actions. In other words, no one knows that I work in the media, and certainly not about my desire to tell about it.
A clear answer to this pure altruism is apparently rooted in the well-known sage saying: All of Israel is guarantor for each other, and Jewish blood is certainly not water.
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