In vacant lots, front and back yards in residential areas, and open fields throughout the country, bonfires rage. Perhaps because the buildings are made of concrete blocks, Jerusalem stone, and bricks, Israelis have no fear that the fires will spread and create devastation like that experienced seasonally in California.
 
My closest friend from my “cop” days is like a sister to me. 

Every year on the Fourth of July we would gather at her home that overlooked the entire Antelope Valley in California to watch the fireworks displays in the valley below, and as far away as Edwards Air Force Base. 

It was always a magnificent sight. 

Last night on my way home by bus in the hills of Jerusalem, Israel, I was able to observe Lag B'Omer bonfires throughout Jerusalem and the valley below. The sky lit up with bonfires reminded me of the fireworks of the Fourth of July in the U.S.

The Ubiquity of  Fires
 
When I got off the bus and began to walk toward the BBQ I had been invited to, I was amazed at the number of bonfires glowing in the densely populated area of apartment buildings where I live. 

The fires were kept burning with every imaginable object made of wood. There were many bathroom doors (I could tell by the style of door), tables, and bookshelves piled high before being thrown into the fire. People gathered around singing and dancing while the music from loudspeakers went on long into the night.
 
Instead of the usual wide-open windows, native Israelis and those living here who have experienced at least one Lag B'Omer know to keep their windows tightly shut. Otherwise, by the end of the festivities their homes would be full of soot and ash, their breathing labored from all the smoke in the air. But the smell of the fire and crackling of the flames was mixed with the redolent aromas of BBQ meats and exotic, mouth-watering Israeli dishes. And because Israeli Independence Day was only last week, flags still were flying all over. 

The entire experience was a treat to all my senses.
 
I was invited to a BBQ at a friend's home. 

The host used his wife's portable hairdryer to fan the flames of the BBQ.

The coals were hot in no time. 

3 Plus  2 Plus 1 Plus  1

I had steak, chicken breasts and a hamburger. No wonder I can't seem to lose weight. 

I was stuffed with so much food, and the hostess would not keep from piling things onto my plate. 

My grandmother always would insist that I finish everything on my plate because of the “poor starving children in Europe” — as though my pigging out was going to help them.

Old habits never seem to die.
 
The last time I went for a BBQ at my hosts' house, they made me eat 3 steaks, 2 hamburgers, 1 hot dog and 1 chicken breast. 

It reminds me of the time I was a student at UCLA and I represented my floor of the dorm in an eating contest. 

Is there any doubt as to who was the winner? 

Only in those days I was a speed walker. I used to walk from one end of campus to another, and students would run after me asking, “Where is the fire?” 

I also used to go dancing every night before I would play bridge (kept switching my major so I could graduate without going to class). 

In those days I was thin in spite of the quantity of food I consumed. It is hard to believe that I had to gain weight to get on the Sheriff's Dept. 

Who knew my metabolism would change after three children?
 
Here in Israel, food always is part of the celebration of holidays and festivals, with particular foods symbolizing events in Jewish history. 

And depending on where in the world Jews have gathered from, the varied tastes and smells are a gastronomic delight. 

Jewish hospitality is thousands of years old. There always is an empty place-setting at my table, just in case someone unexpectedly shows up at my door. 

L'hitraot, Shachar

Shachar is the Hebrew name of a California-based attorney and former Los Angeles County Sheriff’s deputy who moved to Israel 22 months ago.