Occasionally I share personal moments as a reminder of the “why.” Those are collected here:

Family & Life

Best,

Roee

We boarded the flight, landed safely, and just two days later, the sirens went off.

It was June 13, 2025. At around 2 a.m., the unmistakable sound echoed across Tel Aviv. Almost immediately, our phones buzzed with text messages: “Immediate threat nearby, enter your bunkers.” My wife and I scooped up the kids and rushed into the bunker.

With all the chaos swirling around us, we decided to turn it into a game for the kids. We told them that anytime there was a siren, we were having a pajama party in the other room. My daughter drifted back to sleep in my arms, while my son stayed awake and curious, thinking of it as an adventure. For us, it was something far more serious.

Only later did we realize what was happening outside: a full-fledged attack on Iran’s nuclear sites. We had landed in Israel at exactly the wrong time.

The following two weeks of our “vacation” were spent dodging ballistic missiles. Sirens, bunkers, sleepless nights—it became a rhythm no parent ever wants their children to experience. We did our best to keep things light for the kids, but behind the smiles and games, the weight of the situation was constant.

To make matters worse, there was no way out. All flights were immediately cancelled, leaving us stuck with no clear timeline of when we could leave. When flights finally opened again, I did what I know best: hustled. I cold-called the CEO of the airline directly, and with the help of a few additional connections, managed to secure seats for my family on the very first flight out of the country. The relief of stepping onto that plane is something I’ll never forget.

And yet, in the middle of that uncertainty, we also felt unexpected kindness. With flights grounded and plans unraveling, a U.S. investor friend offered us the use of his home while he was away. That gesture gave us stability when we needed it most, and I’ll always carry that gratitude with me.

After going through so much turmoil in Israel, I knew my family needed something calm to compensate — a chance to breathe again. That’s how we ended up in Alaska.

And it truly felt magical. We spent a full week surrounded by glaciers, turquoise waters, and endless skies. Standing on the deck of the ship, I watched massive slabs of ice break and crash into the sea with a thunder that shook the air. Whales surfaced just off the bow, and the kids screamed with excitement every time. For the first time in weeks, we could simply be. The kids laughed, we breathed deeper, and together we reflected on how lucky we were — and how God had protected us on this trip.

If Israel was about adrenaline and survival, Alaska was about peace and perspective. Nature has a way of reminding you that the world is much bigger than our fears and struggles.

After rockets and glaciers, the contrast couldn’t have been sharper.

Now, back home, the kids are back in school, and I’m back to the grind. I feel safe, grateful, and grounded. This summer took me through extremes—chaos and calm—but it also reminded me of what matters most: family, resilience, kindness, and perspective.

And now that I’m back, I’m just grateful to be alive, safe with my family — and back in the grind, hustling again. It feels good to be home, it feels good to be working, and it feels good to be alive. God Bless America.

Have a wonderful weekend and enjoy every bit with your loved ones!

With much gratitude,
Roee

PS: If this story resonated with you, I’d love to hear from you—just hit reply :)