Water Tower on Rehov Mazeh in Ramat Hasharon, Tel Aviv. Photo © Ronsho.
Jabe climbed this when he was sixteen, in the summer of 1986, just to see if he could. He’d like to say that it was a profoundly moving experience that taught him something about bravery and freedom, but the primary lesson he recalls from the experience is that climbing landmarks is a great way to get arrested.
The secondary lesson he took from it is that it’s also a great way to get smacked upside the head several times by an angry aunt while a frustrated uncle would like very much to know what the hell you thought you were doing.
Parents, man.
This was one of the first things he thought of the day Saydie was born. How, at one point, he was his mother’s baby, small and helpless, and some time later, he was an uncontrollable teenager who didn’t see any reason not to scale a water tower. He’s looked at himself, at Ryan, at Emma, and realized with some dismay that he can’t count on Shelly’s relatively mild and mellow teen years to be inheritable.
He’s wondered, with some anxiety, how tall the Hollywood sign is.
