It has never been harder to be a supporter of Israel. I should know; I’ve been one as long as I can remember. In fact, I almost became an Israeli myself. When I left the Soviet Union with my mother and grandmother in 1976, we made lengthy stopovers in Vienna and Rome, where Israeli representatives tried to persuade us to move to the Jewish state. It was a tempting offer, but since my mother spoke English, not Hebrew, we went to the United States. Yet while growing up as a Jewish kid in the Los Angeles suburbs, I still formed a fast attachment to Israel.
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