Mediterranean Sea, near Yafo, Tel Aviv

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Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem! My apologies for taking so long to write. The internet situation has been challenging, and along with the needs to settle-in, absorb and listen, as well as study and have fun – there just hasn't been the time. Now, though, I believe I must sit down and write. As my ulpan teacher (morah) is always saying, 'cotvim! cotvim!', 'write! write!' First, here are the highlights so far: Arrival in Tel Aviv. Boarded sherut (shared taxi) for 62 sheckels. While I waited, I was greeted by a young lady from Jerusalem who, upon seeing me said, "Wow, well, you're sure happy to be here." She read it on my face! Also, upon boarding the sherut, the driver began yelling in Hebrew because he wanted me to move to the back of the sherut in order to give my seat up to a young lady who did not want to sit between the two Jews in the back. Even though I didn't understand what he was saying, when he boarded the sherut and started yel...

On this Labor Day, a call to academics studying work… to get to work.

By Nicholas Croce, September 6, 2021 On this Labor Day, a call to academics studying work… to get to work. After taking a break from doctoral studies four months ago, I’ve come to the conclusion that academics, specifically those interested in the workforce, labor, and precarity, need to get to work. And no, I am not implying that academics aren’t working hard enough: for sure, keeping university classes going during this pandemic is a herculean labor. Nor do I mean to say that professors and social science researchers should drop their academic jobs and get into other segments of the workforce, per se. After four months of precarious work arrangements, tedious and dehumanizing interactions with welfare, and dealing with the psychosocial impacts of socioeconomic precarity, I am moved to write—no, I am moved to scream, to shout it from the ground up into the heights of academe—that anyone studying modern work needs to get out and experience it, today. ...

27 May 2017

I sit down to write as someone different. Four years ago, in April 2013, I left Tel Aviv - Yafo to return back to the United States. At the time, I was not feeling well. I came down with a bad case of something — the doctor in Jerusalem said laryngitis. I was living in a small apartment off Sderot Yerushalayim in Yafo. Life was good despite that nasty bout of laryngitis, living in a dark and damp studio apartment, and being detached from that City — Jerusalem — which had intrigued and sustained and nudged my soul since that first night on the Mount of Olives. How could I have realized it then, but I was on the cusp of a major shift in my life; isn't it funny how we are so bad at noticing times of transition? The years that followed my return to the United States have been the quickest and fullest so far in my twenty-five years doing this thing we call "life." Here I sit in Jerusalem, in what feels like forever and just a minute all at once, trying to see if I have gaine...

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