Miami woman stranded in Israel returns, says ‘I can breathe again'
The Aventura woman was one of several Miamians who found themselves stranded in Israel after the country's June 13 surprise missile attack on Iran's nuclear facilities and top military officials. With retaliation from Iran hours later, the two Middle Eastern countries have spent the last 11 days in a lethal tit-for-tat that's left hundreds dead, according to the Associated Press.
READ MORE: 'Oh my God, what's going on?' Miami visitors stranded as missiles target Israel
Since the conflict's start, Bendavid's daily routine came to include mapping out bomb shelters near her place, creating group chats to keep tabs on other marooned South Floridians and applying for every evacuation route available to Americans.
Now safely home, she admits the stress of living amid siren sounds and missile debris has yet to wear off.
'On the one hand, I feel like a weight that was on my chest has been lifted and I can breathe again,' said the 59-year-old. 'But at the same time, it's bittersweet, because I'm constantly thinking about the people there and also feel guilty about not being there.'
Bendavid touched ground in Miami Sunday at 6:30 p.m. after a multi-stop route that took her through Tel Aviv, Vienna and Zurich before arriving home. Originally planning to leave Tuesday on one of Gov. Ron DeSantis four chartered jets, resourced by Tampa-based nonprofit Grey Bull Rescue, her hopes were crushed when the first group of evacuees was delayed into a three-day journey that temporarily halted other scheduled trips.
READ MORE: Americans fleeing Israel fly to Tampa on flights chartered by DeSantis
Leaving behind fellow South Floridians, including her coworkers from the Greater Miami Jewish Federation with whom she entered Israel two weeks before the conflict, proved tougher than her desire to make it back home. She estimates around 500 residents of Miami-Dade County are still stuck in the country based on a WhatsApp chat her team created for stranded South Floridians to stay in contact and share tips for evacuating.
Bendavid's escape route was facilitated by the Jewish Agency for Israel, a partner of the nonprofit she works for, which offered to fly her group out from Ben Gurion Airport, located in the Tel Aviv metropolitan area. From there, she traveled to Vienna where she overnighted before heading to Zurich and, finally, Miami, totaling 15 hours in the air.
Since takeoff was slated for Saturday, a few group members chose to stay back to observe the Sabbath.
Those left behind, whether by choice or circumstance, are stuck adapting to a dystopian reality, says Bendavid.
Her 29-year-old son Ariel, who moved to Tel Aviv a year and a half ago, is adjusting to 30-minute sleep intervals as sirens go off at an almost hourly rate, forcing Israelis to wake up, find shelter and wait out the alerts multiple times a night.
A friend of Bendavid's and her daughter continue to clock in to their jobs while stranded, comparing it to an all-too-familiar form of isolation.
'In a way, it's kind of like COVID, where you're not straying far from your house. You're all stuck inside, working on Zooms and doing your work remote, plus the feeling of being post-October 7,' she said. 'But yet, this is scarier, because of the missiles and the potential damage.'
Anxiety left from being stranded in the war zone and evacuee's guilt keeps her up at night — Bendavid says she slept a little over an hour her first night home, compulsively checking the latest news on the conflict — but she's grateful for the perspective it's granted her and others from the Western world.
'People [in Israel] try to go about their daily business as much as they can and, when you're here, you're removed from it,' she said. 'You look all over the world at conflict, and for the most part, people in the United States are extremely privileged and fortunate. I don't think people realize how much we are here.'
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Hamilton Spectator
29 minutes ago
- Hamilton Spectator
After a reference to Trump's impeachments is removed from a history museum, complex questions echo
NEW YORK (AP) — It would seem the most straightforward of notions: A thing takes place, and it goes into the history books or is added to museum exhibits. But whether something even gets remembered and how — particularly when it comes to the history of a country and its leader — is often the furthest thing from simple. The latest example of that came Friday, when the Smithsonian Institution said it had removed a reference to the 2019 and 2021 impeachments of President Donald Trump from a panel in an exhibition about the American presidency. Trump has pressed institutions and agencies under federal oversight, often through the pressure of funding, to focus on the country's achievements and progress and away from things he terms 'divisive.' A Smithsonian spokesperson said the removal of the reference, which had been installed as part of a temporary addition in 2021, came after a review of 'legacy content recently' and the exhibit eventually 'will include all impeachments.' There was no time frame given for when; exhibition renovations can be time- and money-consuming endeavors. In a statement that did not directly address the impeachment references, White House spokesperson Davis Ingle said: 'We are fully supportive of updating displays to highlight American greatness.' But is history intended to highlight or to document — to report what happened, or to serve a desired narrative? The answer, as with most things about the past, can be intensely complex. It's part of a larger effort around American stories The Smithsonian's move comes in the wake of Trump administration actions like removing the name of a gay rights activist from a Navy ship, pushing for Republican supporters in Congress to defund the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and getting rid of the leadership at the Kennedy Center. 'Based on what we have been seeing, this is part of a broader effort by the president to influence and shape how history is depicted at museums, national parks, and schools,' said Julian E. Zelizer, a professor of history and public affairs at Princeton University. 'Not only is he pushing a specific narrative of the United States but, in this case, trying to influence how Americans learn about his own role in history.' It's not a new struggle, in the world generally and the political world particularly. There is power in being able to shape how things are remembered, if they are remembered at all — who was there, who took part, who was responsible, what happened to lead up to that point in history. And the human beings who run things have often extended their authority to the stories told about them. 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It shows how the presentation of history matters In the United States, presidents and their families have always used their power to shape history and calibrate their own images. Jackie Kennedy insisted on cuts in William Manchester's book on her husband's 1963 assassination, 'The Death of a President.' Ronald Reagan and his wife got a cable TV channel to release a carefully calibrated documentary about him. Those around Franklin D. Roosevelt, including journalists of the era, took pains to mask the impact that paralysis had on his body and his mobility. Trump, though, has taken it to a more intense level — a sitting president encouraging an atmosphere where institutions can feel compelled to choose between him and the truth — whether he calls for it directly or not. 'We are constantly trying to position ourselves in history as citizens, as citizens of the country, citizens of the world,' said Robin Wagner-Pacifici, professor emerita of sociology at the New School for Social Research. 'So part of these exhibits and monuments are also about situating us in time. And without it, it's very hard for us to situate ourselves in history because it seems like we just kind of burst forth from the Earth.' Timothy Naftali, director of the Richard M. Nixon Presidential Library and Museum from 2007 to 2011, presided over its overhaul to offer a more objective presentation of Watergate — one not beholden to the president's loyalists. In an interview Friday, he said he was 'concerned and disappointed' about the Smithsonian decision. Naftali, now a senior researcher at Columbia University, said museum directors 'should have red lines' and that he considered removing the Trump panel to be one of them. While it might seem inconsequential for someone in power to care about a museum's offerings, Wagner-Pacifici says Trump's outlook on history and his role in it — earlier this year, he said the Smithsonian had 'come under the influence of a divisive, race-centered ideology' — shows how important those matters are to people in authority. 'You might say about that person, whoever that person is, their power is so immense and their legitimacy is so stable and so sort of monumental that why would they bother with things like this ... why would they bother to waste their energy and effort on that?' Wagner-Pacifici said. Her conclusion: 'The legitimacy of those in power has to be reconstituted constantly. They can never rest on their laurels.' ___
San Francisco Chronicle
31 minutes ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
After a reference to Trump's impeachments is removed from a history museum, complex questions echo
NEW YORK (AP) — It would seem the most straightforward of notions: A thing takes place, and it goes into the history books or is added to museum exhibits. But whether something even gets remembered and how — particularly when it comes to the history of a country and its leader — is often the furthest thing from simple. The latest example of that came Friday, when the Smithsonian Institution said it had removed a reference to the 2019 and 2021 impeachments of President Donald Trump from a panel in an exhibition about the American presidency. Trump has pressed institutions and agencies under federal oversight, often through the pressure of funding, to focus on the country's achievements and progress and away from things he terms 'divisive.' A Smithsonian spokesperson said the removal of the reference, which had been installed as part of a temporary addition in 2021, came after a review of 'legacy content recently' and the exhibit eventually 'will include all impeachments.' There was no time frame given for when; exhibition renovations can be time- and money-consuming endeavors. In a statement that did not directly address the impeachment references, White House spokesperson Davis Ingle said: 'We are fully supportive of updating displays to highlight American greatness.' But is history intended to highlight or to document — to report what happened, or to serve a desired narrative? The answer, as with most things about the past, can be intensely complex. It's part of a larger effort around American stories The Smithsonian's move comes in the wake of Trump administration actions like removing the name of a gay rights activist from a Navy ship, pushing for Republican supporters in Congress to defund the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and getting rid of the leadership at the Kennedy Center. 'Based on what we have been seeing, this is part of a broader effort by the president to influence and shape how history is depicted at museums, national parks, and schools,' said Julian E. Zelizer, a professor of history and public affairs at Princeton University. 'Not only is he pushing a specific narrative of the United States but, in this case, trying to influence how Americans learn about his own role in history.' It's not a new struggle, in the world generally and the political world particularly. There is power in being able to shape how things are remembered, if they are remembered at all — who was there, who took part, who was responsible, what happened to lead up to that point in history. And the human beings who run things have often extended their authority to the stories told about them. In China, for example, references to the June 1989 crackdown on pro-democracy demonstrators in Beijing's Tiananmen Square are forbidden and meticulously regulated by the ruling Communist Party government. In Soviet-era Russia, officials who ran afoul of leaders like Josef Stalin disappeared not only from the government itself but from photographs and history books where they once appeared. Jason Stanley, an expert on authoritarianism, said controlling what and how people learn of their past has long been used as a vital tool to maintain power. Stanley has made his views about the Trump administration clear; he recently left Yale University to join the University of Toronto, citing concerns over the U.S. political situation. 'If they don't control the historical narrative,' he said, 'then they can't create the kind of fake history that props up their politics.' It shows how the presentation of history matters In the United States, presidents and their families have always used their power to shape history and calibrate their own images. Jackie Kennedy insisted on cuts in William Manchester's book on her husband's 1963 assassination, 'The Death of a President.' Ronald Reagan and his wife got a cable TV channel to release a carefully calibrated documentary about him. Those around Franklin D. Roosevelt, including journalists of the era, took pains to mask the impact that paralysis had on his body and his mobility. Trump, though, has taken it to a more intense level — a sitting president encouraging an atmosphere where institutions can feel compelled to choose between him and the truth — whether he calls for it directly or not. 'We are constantly trying to position ourselves in history as citizens, as citizens of the country, citizens of the world,' said Robin Wagner-Pacifici, professor emerita of sociology at the New School for Social Research. 'So part of these exhibits and monuments are also about situating us in time. And without it, it's very hard for us to situate ourselves in history because it seems like we just kind of burst forth from the Earth.' Timothy Naftali, director of the Richard M. Nixon Presidential Library and Museum from 2007 to 2011, presided over its overhaul to offer a more objective presentation of Watergate — one not beholden to the president's loyalists. In an interview Friday, he said he was 'concerned and disappointed' about the Smithsonian decision. Naftali, now a senior researcher at Columbia University, said museum directors 'should have red lines' and that he considered removing the Trump panel to be one of them. While it might seem inconsequential for someone in power to care about a museum's offerings, Wagner-Pacifici says Trump's outlook on history and his role in it — earlier this year, he said the Smithsonian had 'come under the influence of a divisive, race-centered ideology' — shows how important those matters are to people in authority. 'You might say about that person, whoever that person is, their power is so immense and their legitimacy is so stable and so sort of monumental that why would they bother with things like this ... why would they bother to waste their energy and effort on that?' Wagner-Pacifici said. Her conclusion: 'The legitimacy of those in power has to be reconstituted constantly. They can never rest on their laurels.'
San Francisco Chronicle
4 hours ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
Corporation for Public Broadcasting to shut down after being defunded by Congress, targeted by Trump
WASHINGTON (AP) — The Corporation for Public Broadcasting, a cornerstone of American culture for three generations, announced Friday it would take steps toward its own closure after being defunded by Congress — marking the end of a nearly six-decade era in which it fueled the production of renowned educational programming, cultural content and even emergency alerts. The demise of the corporation, known as CPB, is a direct result of President Donald Trump's targeting of public media, which he has repeatedly said is spreading political and cultural views antithetical to those the United States should be espousing. The closure is expected to have a profound impact on the journalistic and cultural landscape — in particular, public radio and TV stations in small communities across the United States. CPB helps fund both PBS and NPR, but most of its funding is distributed to more than 1,500 local public radio and television stations around the country. The corporation also has deep ties to much of the nation's most familiar programming, from NPR's 'All Things Considered' to, historically, 'Sesame Street,' 'Mister Rogers' Neighborhood' and the documentaries of Ken Burns. The corporation said its end, 58 years after being signed into law by President Lyndon B. Johnson, would come in an 'orderly wind-down.' In a statement, it said the decision came after the passage through Congress of a package that clawed back its funding for the next two budget years — about $1.1 billion. Then, the Senate Appropriations Committee reinforced that policy change Thursday by excluding funding for the corporation for the first time in more than 50 years as part of a broader spending bill. 'Despite the extraordinary efforts of millions of Americans who called, wrote, and petitioned Congress to preserve federal funding for CPB, we now face the difficult reality of closing our operations,' said Patricia Harrison, the corporation's president and CEO. As part of Thursday's committee deliberations, Sen. Tammy Baldwin, D-Wis., authored but then withdrew an amendment to restore CPB funding for the coming budget year. She said she still believed there was a path forward 'to fix this before there are devastating consequences for public radio and television stations across the country.' 'It's hard to believe we've ended up in the situation we're in,' she said. 'And I'm going to continue to work with my colleagues to fix it.' But Sen. Shelley Moore Capito, sounded a less optimistic tone. 'I understand your concerns, but we all know we litigated this two weeks ago,' Capito said. 'Adopting this amendment would have been contrary to what we have already voted on.' CPB said it informed employees Friday that most staff positions will end with the fiscal year on Sept. 30. It said a small transition team will stay in place until January to finish any remaining work — including, it said, 'ensuring continuity for music rights and royalties that remain essential to the public media system.' 'Public media has been one of the most trusted institutions in American life, providing educational opportunity, emergency alerts, civil discourse, and cultural connection to every corner of the country,' Harrison said. 'We are deeply grateful to our partners across the system for their resilience, leadership, and unwavering dedication to serving the American people.' The impact will be widespread NPR stations use millions of dollars in federal money to pay music licensing fees. Now, many will have to renegotiate these deals. That could impact, in particular, outlets that build their programming around music discovery. NPR President and CEO Katherine Maher estimated recently, for example, that some 96% of all classical music broadcast in the United States is on public radio stations. Federal money for public radio and television has traditionally been appropriated to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, which distributes it to NPR and PBS. Roughly 70% of the money goes directly to the 330 PBS and 246 NPR stations across the country, although that's only a shorthand way to describe its potential impact. Trump, who has called the CPB a 'monstrosity,' has long said that public broadcasting displays an extreme liberal bias, helped create the momentum in recent months for an anti-public broadcasting groundswell among his supporters in Congress and around the country. It is part of a larger initiative in which he has targeted institutions — particularly cultural ones — that produce content or espouse attitudes that he considers 'un-American.' The CPB's demise represents a political victory for those efforts. His impact on the media landscape has been profound. He has also gone after U.S. government media that had independence charters, including the venerable Voice of America, ending that media outlet's operations after many decades. Trump also fired three members of the corporation's board of directors in April. In legal action at the time, the fired directors said their dismissal was governmental overreach targeting an entity whose charter guarantees it independence.
