Arrival
My yearly trip to Jerusalem had been rescheduled, due to the Hezbollah threat existing from July to the Fall of 2006. My decision to cancel was underlined by an emailed warning from the State Department. Haifa was hit by rockets, as was Tsfat, the mountain community to the north of Jerusalem where Adrianne/Rochel Ruth’s new family and I had attended post-wedding dinners in 1997. A/RR was living in Tsfat when she was "matched" with Joseph.
When I finally landed in Tel Aviv at the end of January, I was reminded of a shift in perception that I have experienced before, when finding myself in the midst of potential danger. The reality of day-to-day life continuing around me seems to override the likelihood of any risk that might be involved, as opposed to the danger that appears to exist when looking in from the outside. A/RR thought that I had been silly to reschedule.
I experienced a similar shift when I lived in New York City, especially following 9/11. If friends were cautious to visit before that traumatic day, there is no way I could entice them to come in the aftermath. Haunting images of the event stayed with me and reminders were everywhere, but life carried on. I laugh when I recall that A/RR called me on 9/12 to urge me to come visit her family in Israel, “...where it’s safe.”
The Lebel family arrived late to pick me up at Ben Gurien Airport, due to Joseph’s efforts to procure a van from a friend who conducts excursions for tourists. On the drive back to Jerusalem, I could see that he liked the idea of having a larger vehicle that enables each passenger to have his/her own seat. The idea of replacing their wee worn-out Diatsu, when affordable, certainly has my vote. And it did, two children ago.
Standing still to hold the camera steady prevented me from rushing forward to exchange long-awaited hugs.
My shrieks of glad tidings certainly compensated...(:-<
Before they arrived, I called A/RR on my cell phone to prepare the children—particularly the oldest, Mindela (8) and Rivke (6)—for some unfortunate news. I had not been able to purchase the plastic bubble blower kit that I usually grab at a Heathrow gift shop on my way to the departure gate. I'd had to reschedule onto a different airline, placing me in an altogether different terminal. It had become a tradition, initially a way of bonding with the girls on the drive from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, blowing colorful balls from sticky little globs on the end of straws. Before my departure, A/RR had informed me that the telling of this tradition was becoming become part of "Nana" Mythology, told by the older girls to their wide-eyed little brothers:
“And Nana comes from AMER-ica, bringing a big suitcase full of surprises!”
A/RR laughed when she related Rivke's initial response to the news, just before they reached the airport. It made her feel quite proud:
“Oh, that is okay, Mama. We are not excited to see Nana just because she brings fun bubbles to blow.”
“Ah, I have raised her well!” A/RR thought at the time.
“…it is the big suitcase that she brings with many other presents that we love!” Rivke added. A/RR groaned.
First Bath
Indeed, life is continuing to thrive and grow within my daughter’s family. Just one day before my arrival, her four beautiful children and sweet husband had welcomed her back home from the convalescent facility, greeting their newborn brother/son—my third grandson, Shmuel (Samuel).
Nachmann is saying, "Now, he's done! He's done!" Watch him pass Rivke's hair styling trick on to Mindy.
"Bubala" is Yiddish for "baby." Shmuel loved all of his subsequent evening baths.
(You can hear the cough that I brought home with me.)
The weather was cold and rainy most of my ten days in Jerusalem. The older children go to school until early afternoon. It has become another tradition for me to pull out of that suitcase a new craft project to tackle with the girls each afternoon when they've arrived home from school and their homework is done. This all began a few years ago, when I was trying to find a way to interact with my granddaughters in a way that would transcend the language barrier. Shimon (3 1/2) is getting old enough to join in.
Mindy and Rivke waiting for the school bus.
Nachman (1 1/2) had been bribed weeks before my arrival with the Fisher Price train that I promised to bring. After my arrival, I hid it behind the door of the salon. While spending a day with a family friend during his brother's birth, he had been scolded for touching something that didn't belong to him. This hurt him deeply, while missing his Mama terribly.
Here, he feared that he would get in trouble for finding the train.
Joseph lovingly coaxed him out.
Unfriendly Skys
Unfortunately, that mid-size suitcase full of goodies, gathered and collected throughout the year on sale, became a near fatality at the check-in counter at Swiss Air.
When I flew from JFK to Heathrow, the British Airways (good guys) agent gave me a thumbs up re. the permitted weight allowed in Europe for my 2 medium size checked bags. However, the agent did caution me that I was likely to have to pay around $100 for the 3rd piece, a small new Samsonite duffel that Joseph had ordered.
After a pleasant (but snowy) layover in Hamstead/London with my friends, Tracy and Mark, I arose at 3am to catch a 6:15am flight on Swiss Air (bad guys) from London to Zurich with a connection on El Al to Israel. A rude, robotic agent barked at me, insisting that I pay a fee of GBP 335/$657.97 for excess kilos. I nearly fainted and could have thrown up, literally. The man offered no alternatives but to trash one suitcase or pay the fee. He would not give me the formula he used to calculate the outrageous sum. I am currently in the process of protesting.
Cabin Fever
At times, the evenings became very long, sharing such close quarters with four rambunctious children and one baby with gas pains (which Nana's special hold relieved, unfailingly). We all got a touch of cabin fever when the weather prevented any excursions to the park.
Shimon is all boy.
I sleep on a couch in the main room/salon. The children sleep spread out (in varying combinations) in their parents' and the girls' room. Meditations on my blessed iPod overrode much of the night noise. One night I dreamed that I was maneuvering the circle dial back-back-back to a menu that gave me the options, "Baby crying" and "Baby not crying." In the dream it was a simple click of the wheel that brought sudden stillness.
The Monkey Thing
My dear friend, Becky Riendeau (college roommate, AKA Lewiston Dogwood Festival Fairy) sent along some thoughtful gifts for the grandchildren.
Their favorite was the book Five Little Monkeys. It included 5 little stuffed monkeys, serendipitously—2 girls and 3 boys. They loved it!
Never did I dream that the girls would/could memorize the words to recite in English!. I had only read the story to them one or two times at bedtime. A/RR said that after I left, she heard Shimon mimicking, "FIVE LEETTLE MONKEYS kinga pinka pong!"
It's always fun to see the reaction of my grandchildren when they watch the little videos that I have taken of them during previous visits. These children have never watched television. This time, Nachman (not shown here) watched a video that I took last year when he was less than six months old, where he was happily singing away. Unaware that he was actually watching himself as a baby, he exclaimed, "Zeez!"—his father's favorite expression—"Sweet." When we all watched a video that had just arrived, taken by a cousin at Shmuel's bris (ouch!), the children (plus a couple of visiting cousins) all waved at my computer screen when they saw people they recognized.
[This was originally Part 2, created when friends and family asked to see more:]
This is how I often found Joseph sleeping when I'd go in to comfort Shmuel. He is always looking out for everyone's needs. I felt quite cared for when he came into the lounge in the middle of one night, carrying children's cough syrup for me when he'd heard me coughing. I know that he misses his own dear mother, terribly. She once told me that Joseph is the heart of the family.
During their usual evening routine, Joseph bathes the boys for A/RR after he has eaten his dinner. The children eat their biggest meal after school, around 3pm. Then they snack on something like cereal before bed.
A/RR said that delivery was easier this time because she and Joseph have been doing Pilates exercises, as well as the daily use of a tred mill out on the porch. Because it is forbidden for Joseph to see pictures of females dressed "immodestly," A/RR demonstrated the exercises from the Pilates book for him.
Dressing Shmuel after his bath.
When A/RR was in the hospital after giving birth to Shmuel, Joseph did his best to keep the children together, preferring not to farm them out to relatives. One or two evenings when he wasn't able to get home early enough from the shop, Mindy took care of everyone, Rivke helping, of course. A/RR said that after delivering Nachman, Joseph brought the children to see her, some of them with shampoo stuck in their hair.
Getting ready for school.
(Mindy really does know about holding the baby's head!)
Mindy saying prayers after breakfast.
I took this just before sundown on Shabbos.
Over the Shabbos weekend, Joseph likes to takes us to a place where I can have my own room, giving me some privacy and freedom to do things that I would normally do, such as writing on my computer, watching TV, etc., tasks that forbidden over Shabbos from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday.
This visit, Joseph had some coupons from one of his distributors for a night's stay at a hotel in the Arab section of Jerusalem. We all ate Shabbos dinner in the basement dining room with many other large families. We took the stairs (not the elevator) down seven flights for each meal.
This arrangement gave me the opportunity to invite the girls over to "my house" for a tea party and some English/Yiddish lessons. I couldn't help feeling a little wistful, imagining what it might be like to be their grandmother in my world.
I have never seen a child snore before. When Shimon is tired, he really crashes.
After our Shabbos weekend at the hotel, we all went over to the Treistman's, a more modern Orthodox (not Hasidic) family for whom A/RR worked as an au pair when she first came to Israel. Robin and Avi have been wonderful to me and have become very special friends.
Every time one of their daughters (4 out of 6 of their children) celebrates a Bat Mitzvah, Robin and Avi ask their guests to assist in preparing gifts that the family buys for a good cause. One year, everyone helped bundle together school supplies for needy families. During the celebration, guests had fun putting together hundreds of packets, containing notebooks, pens, pencils, rulers, etc. Another year, the project was to create hundred of buckets containing cleaning materials for low-income mothers who clean houses. This year, everyone collected coins to donate to a local orphanage.
I usually stay a night or two with the Treistmans and meet with a few clients there. This is where I first met with a (now long-time) client whose husband was killed on a bus that was bombed by a suicide bomber. This story is detailed in Heart-Links.I thought that the girls must have thought the Treistman's home to be a hotel. I don't know if they've ever seen such a large house. I realized how very shy Mindela is, when I watched her go to her Mama to say that she wanted to play with Serite and Ellie—the older girls—but she did not know how to approach them. "Just go ask to play," A/RR replied. The Treistman family speaks Hebrew and English. Mindy and Rivke are scolded at school if they speak Hebrew, instead of Yiddish. (Joseph and A/RR speak both languages at home).
Later in the evening, the older Treistman girls took Mindy and Rifke downstairs to show them their hamster. At first they were very nervous about approaching the critter, but gradually warmed up to petting him. One of the Treistman girls later told me that Rivke had asked if the hamster could talk. I wondered if this had to do with a particular video that I have shown the girls over the years. It is one that I took in a gift shop in Nevada City, CA, of a parrot singing "I Left My Heart in San Francisco." In the Hasidic world, you never see domesticated animals. Sadly, cats are considered to be "vermin," often seen rummaging through dumpsters.
A/RR told me that Shimon woke up on their way home in the car. The girls astounded him with stories about all that he had missed during the evening while he snoozed. "And there was a leetle animal that has a mommy and a daddy and they have babies and they go to a doctor, just like we do!"
Shifting Perceptions
During one of my earliest visit to my daughter’s chosen world, I was taken aback at hearing her stories about Arabs undermining the Jews’ safety on construction projects in Jerusalem and the surrounding settlements. I was told that they intentionally place electrical outlets in dangerous locations, next to faucets, etc. A/RR showed me an example of this behind her washer and dryer on the back porch. She also said that a friend reported that she questioned an Arab construction worker about the faucet he had placed in her front yard, without her permission. He replied, “This is where I will wash my feet one day when this is my house.” A/RR said (and others confirmed) that Arabs are known to have selected houses that they believe will be theirs, “once the Jews are dead.”
I winced the day I saw A/RR roll her eyes at the arrival of an Arab water delivery man who came with his young son in tow. The man was most curious about my Palm Pilot, and we had a nice discussion. My daughter was not raised to relate to people of different cultures, races or beliefs with prejudice.
This trip I learned that A/RR had recently hired a young Arab woman to clean for her once a week. She likes the woman very much, though she’s cautious, mostly because of the need to maintain a professional employer/employee relationship.
The girl is non-religious. She is quite used to having eggs thrown at her when she shops at the Arab market, dressed in pants and wearing her hair uncovered. One weekend, the woman, her husband and their two children went out of town to visit her parents. When they returned, Hamas had broken into their home and stole everything. She is used to these disruptions, Arabs fighting against Arabs.
A/RR told her about my experience that occurred several years ago, an incident which many of you will recall. It involved an Arab cab driver that drove me on an excursion out to Bethlehem. On the way back to Jerusalem, I asked to stop for lunch.
“What would you like?” he had asked.
“Oh, I don’t know…maybe some couscous? I had said.
The man had laughed uproariously. Then he leaned back over the seat and asked if I would like to borrow some of his porno videos. To my chagrin and profound embarrassment, I later learned that “couscous” is Arab slang for male genitals.
The Arab girl's response to hearing the story was to tell A/RR that she never rides in a cab with an Arab driver without writing down the name and cab number of her driver. It’s not until she is safely out of the cab that she discards the information. She then told A/RR that she would love to invite me out to her house to sample some authentic couscous and other Arabian delights. Thinking of her place in the cross hairs of Hamas, I declined.
At the end of my stay, many in the Muslim world were celebrating a recent unification of Hama and Fatah, two warring political factions in Palestine. Some worry that this will strengthen their force against Israel. Two days after I left Jerusalem, there was a violent skirmish near the Wailing Wall in the Old City, where I had walked just a few days before my departure. Muslims were accusing—and throwing stones at—Israeli construction workers who they thought were compromising the foundation of their sacred Temple Mount (Dome of the Rock). The Israelis claimed that they were shoring up a temporary ramp that borders the Wailing Wall and provides access to the Temple. All of this took place, just walking distance from where A/RR and Joseph live.
I recommend an article that I recently found in the March/April issue of the AARP magazine that was waiting for me back home in Idaho: Dialogue: Talking Can Stop Hate. It is written by a professor who chairs Islamic studies at American University in Washington, DC. He traveled through nine countries in two months with two honors students, ignoring the advice of loved ones who begged them not to go. They spoke with the President of Pakistan, to students and sheiks, visited mosques, madrassahs, campuses and classrooms throughout the three major regions of Islam—the Middle East, South Asia and Far East Asia. Their goal was to change opinions and to better understand Muslim culture, and to show a side of the United States that Muslims rarely see. Their success is most inspiring.
My ongoing prayer, of course, is that my daughter’s family will remain happy, well and safe. I pray that destructive stereotypes can be dissolved through personal interactions among real people—Muslims, Christians, Jews—who must make the effort to get to know each other as real people, just as the professor in the AARP article was able to accomplish on his mission.
I have had to heal some of my own grievances regarding the Hasidic world that my daughter has chosen to embrace. There are Observant—as well as non-religious—Jews (along with some judgmental Christians)—who cannot understand my acceptance of my daughter’s beliefs and lifestyle.
When I look into her world from the outside, I can grieve. When I am there in person, experiencing the joy, the simplicity and spiritual focus of her life, her heartful, caring husband and five beautiful children, I rejoice that my daughter has never been happier, more loving, and more fulfilled.
My Son the Webmaster-meister
I had a wonderful short stay with Dylan in Brooklyn before and after hopping the Big Pond. He introduced me to his boss and co-workers at iCrossing on Madison Avenue where he has been promoted to Senior Developer. This international company creates websites for large corporations, specializing in website optimization, a whole new science in itself. Dylan laughed when I told him that I planned to threaten Swiss Air with an optimized internet blog to warn travelers, “Beware of Swiss Air!”
I am grateful to Dylan for teaching me the html code necessary to make this a multi-media report.
