Yom Yippur 1972. Syrian and Egyptian tanks swarm over Israeli defenses on the Golan Heights and the Suez Canal. The Arab Forces initial successes are reversed by strategic blunders and Israeli air cover, however the losses to the IDF are catastrophic for the small nation. If a country the size of the USA had suffered the same casualties, the deaths would have mounted into the 100s of 1000s. Russian intervention was stopped by a stern warning from President Nixon.
DefCon 4 to DefCon 3.
Nuclear war.
Cooler heads prevailed over spreading the conflict to other parts of the world and Yom Kippur has resumed its position as a day of atonement for the Jewish People.
Not without humor.
A small town had two churches, Presbyterian and Methodist, and a Synagogue. All three had a serious problem with squirrels in their building. Each in its own fashion had a meeting to deal with the problem.
The Presbyterians decided that it was predestined that squirrels be in the church and that they would just have to live with them.
The Methodists decided they should deal with the squirrels lovingly in the style of Charles Wesley. They humanely trapped them and released them in a park at the edge of town. Within 3 days, they were all back in the church.
The Jews simply voted the squirrels in as members. Now they only see them at Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur.
Of course my father hates squirrels. Not so much hates them, but curses them during his drives to my mother's grave. The town cemetery is overrun with the tree rodents. They scramble into the paved roads before cars. A game. My father swerved away from one and crashed into a gravestone. Almost 100 feet from the road.
"Damn Squirrels."
And he's a Convert to Catholicism.
No Yom Kippur for him.
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