One day, I was sitting at my computer when the phone rang. Naturally, I picked it up. It was Theodore Hertzel, the father of modern Zionism.

                “Theo, my man!” I yelled into the receiver. “How are you?”

“Well, I’m in a bit of a fix, Arinn.”

“What’s the trouble?” I asked.

“Well, it looks as if I’ve gotten lost in Israeli history again.”

“Again!? This is the third time this month!! I keep telling you—“

“Scolding me now is not going to help the situation. Just tell me where I am. Please.”

“To be perfectly honest with you Theo, I’m not even sure if I can figure out where you are.”

“Holy olive branch, Arinn, ask your Rakevet USY friends to help or something, just get me out of here!”

                A few moments later, his service cut out, but not before he was able to give me the following clue (It’s not widely known, but Theodore Hertzel possessed, amongst his numerous talents, prize-winning limerick-writing abilities):

                                            I stand on the sand in Tel Aviv.

                                            The future PM his ship won’t leave.

                                            As flames rise around him,

                                            He prepares for the swim.

                                            Jabotinsky’s namesake sinks—he grieves.

                Do you know where in Israeli history Theo is? Send the answer to Piacaso2@aol.com and you could win big-time!

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