THE PUTSCH
by Yaacov Peterseil

Living in Israel you get used to rebellions, revolts, takeovers, and putschs. They're part of the everyday political scene, especially before an election.

So it was only with the slightest unease that I found myself face-to-face last Saturday night with my four youngest children looking like they meant business.

"We're making a push!" announced, Tanya, my youngest, holding out a much-erased piece of paper.

"Don't let me stop you," I responded.

"A putsch," Todahya corrected. "A putsch. You know, Abba, a mered."

For some reason my children had recently begun believing that I understood Hebrew better than English! They would constantly translate English words into Hebrew when we talked.

"Well, I'm with you all the way," I bravely agreed. "Let's rebel! Let's putsch! Let's - Hey," I suddenly realized, "what are we rebelling against?"

"You!" Tanya pointed. "We're pushing against you."

"What did I do?" I wondered, thinking that I needed my wife here, right now. "Why would you want to putsch me?"

"We want cable!" they shouted in unison, having planned this response to my obvious question.

"Kids," I answered, as I had done a million times before, "we've been over this a million times. If we get cable, we'll watch it day and night. We have enough channels on television, so why do we need cable?"

"Abba," Yosef said, "there are only two channels."

"Exactly," I insisted. "Listen, I've read that when a person has too many channels to choose from he doesn't know what to do and picks only one or two of his favorite channels to watch, all the time. You guys are lucky. You've got you're favorite channels set up for you already."

I saw that I had made an impression on the two youngest, but Temima wasn't buying it.

"But there are no movies on these two channels," she explained. "We don't understand all the fighting and yelling that goes on during these political shows. We want to watch action movies."

"That's just fighting and yelling too," I countered.

"But it's interesting," Yosef chimed in.

"But is it good for you?" I asked, using my trump card. Who can argue with a "good for you" argument?

"Are all these politicians screaming at each other and calling each other names good for us?" Todahya asked, innocently.

Good counter.

"And what's a tembel?" Tanya wondered out loud. "I heard one guy say that to another. And the other guy answered m'fagair. What's that?"

"You just misunderstood them, Tanya," I replied, trying to think quickly. "The first person said tremble and other was saying my father, probably quoting his father about the importance of watching just plain television."

"Those are English words," Tanya realized. "Why would they use English words in a Hebrew program?"

"It's like telephone and sweater. They're English words used in Hebrew."

"Oh," she said, unsure.

"What have you got there?" I said, pointing to the paper.

"It's our putsch paper," Yosef declared, taking the paper from Tanya and giving it to me. "We had the older kids fix the spelling."

Sure enough, I held my children's Declaration of Cable Independence in my hand. It read as follows:

A Pusch

By Tanya, Todahya, Yosef, Temima

We kids are tyed of watching the saim shows all the tyme. We want kabel. Now. That's why we're making a pusch. And if you don't listen to us, we'll pusch until you get us kabel.

Love,

Your kids.

Psss, We'll be your best friend.

Good thing my older, married children had helped them with the spelling.

The truth is, being an old Trekky, I would have loved a little cable in the house. But my wife was adamant. No cable.

So, what's a father to do? A putsch on one side, a determined wife on the other.

"I'll tell you what," I said, folding the paper. "I'll speak to Ima about this. Maybe we can work something out."

"Well, if you don't," warned Tanya, "we'll pusch both of you. And we mean it."

That evening, I sat in the living room with my wife, waiting for my chance to bring up the potential putsch problem.

"What's on tv?" I innocently asked.

"Just the same political junk we've been listening to all week. I wish these elections would be over already."

I decided to make my move. I took out the kids' putsch paper.

"But, sweetheart," my wife quickly added, "isn't it wonderful to be able to just sit here and be able to talk like this?"

I began to rethink my move.

"What's that dear?" she continued, pointing to the paper in my hand.

"Nothing," I answered, trying to stuff the putsch paper into my shirt pocket as my pen flipped out onto the table.

"It looks like Tanya's writing. Is it a test paper?"

"No, it's really nothing," I insisted, forcibly plunging my pen into the paper. A little black spot started to spread on the bottom of my shirt pocket.

"Oops!" I said, smiling. My best shirt.

"Here, let me help you," my wife said, taking the paper from my pocket and replacing the cap on my pen.

Before I could do anything, she had opened the folded paper and read the putsch.

"Isn't this cute," she said, I thought a bit sarcastically.

"I told them we were adamant about the cable."

"I see," she responded, leaning over to re-open the cap of the pen and replacing both the pen and the paper back into my shirt.

"Then why was your name at the bottom of the putsch paper as well?"