This week it happened: At the end of Passover it dawned me that I must invade the city library to replenish my stockpile of books.
My private library at home looked at me, and I stared back. "Don't feel sad," I told it. "You have a lot of books, but what I am truly looking for – you lack. And now there is corona going around, so this is not the time to be jealous."
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I tell my children about my plan. The oldest mumbled something about how she would come and visit me in prison. Her brother, on the other hand, immediately swore allegiance to me. "We have to get a map of the library!", he said and put an iron wire inside the bag.
Zero Hour was set for 8 p.m. The cities of Jerusalem were empty. When we reached the building, I deliberated over the side from which I should enter. My son showed some resourcefulness when he approached the main door and to his dismay, it opened easily. We entered our hearts racing.
O, the library! O! The Soviet-style sofas! The elevator that always gets stuck between floors 3 and 4 with the same crazy person.
O, the curtains that only the chattering class in the fashion world consider vintage rather than rags. My heart pinches. Tears start shedding to my cheeks.
"Mom!" my son whispers in anger. "Come on! The coast is clear!" We climb our way directly to the children's sections, and in the air you could feel that moldy stench of books that have been on the shelf for too long.
We start walking through the aisles and suddenly I hear steps, and after that a familiar voice fills the room.
"I am telling you we saw someone here. If you are not able to keep this place shut, the Health Ministry will have to intervene," he said.
"No one has entered here, and why would someone even do that today with all the digital downloads? You must be imagining, but let's check," comes the reply.
I look at my son with horror. He holds my hand and drags me toward the last set of shelves. "You start looking at the letter 'M', and I will start at the letter 'T'," the director tells the man.
We walked toward the "S" row, but the beam of a flashlight caught us. We immediately freeze in place. My son covers his face with his arm. "Health Minister Yakov Litzman, look at who we have got here!"
I close my eyes and silently recite the songs of the refuseniks. A strange silence sets in.
I open one eye and the library director stands in front of me but is shocked from what she sees over my shoulder. "Sir," she shines the flashlight on where the "R" books are located. My son and I follow the beam of light until it stops. I can see the Health Ministry director general, reading Harry Potter.
"No one had the third book," the most senior Israeli bureaucrat said in a miserable tone. "But sir," the director's voice got louder, "it would be inappropriate to prohibit Israelis by-and-large to enter the library during a pandemic while you bureaucrats do as you like. And you are also not wearing a mask! Mr. Litzman, what do you have to say?"
"We have to run," I tell my son. "Grab any book you can," I continue. Laden with books, we are on our way out but then…
"Dahan-Carlibach!," the voice thundered.
"Yes…?" I answer with a shaking voice. "You have an overdue fine dating back two month. After the pandemic is over, you have to come and pay," she said.
"Of course, of course…," I breathe a sigh of relief. We then sprint out with our plunder.
