Yesterday’s celebration in Forsyth Park was fabulous! Games, exhibits, shwarma, falafel – and brain-draining heat, just like the Holy Land!

Little Yenta Girl folkdanced her little heart out, dug for artifacts at the archeological site and grooved to the loopy Middle Eastern melodic magic of Pharoah’s Daughter while the Jews of Savannah kibbitzed and schmoozed. Unlike the “kosher-style” Jewish Food Festival, the frum faction was in attendance, making us Jews seem like a complete, whole community for the first time since I moved here.

But y’know for me, being a Californian, something was missing. I kept looking over my shoulder, checking out two cops snoozing in their golf cart. I mean, what kind of Israeli gathering happens anymore without a bunch of scary kaffiyeh-wearing freaks showing up? Not that I was all, “You know, what this party really needs is some people shouting ‘End the Occupation!'” but after living in the Bay Area and getting into weekly shouting matches with those crazy bitches from Point Reyes who pretend like they’re collecting money for Palestinian orphans but spend it on weed, I’ve got some post-traumatic stress.

I’m just sayin’, all the love made me nervous.