Still More Stories To Tell About Our Early Days In Israel 50 Years Since Aliyah

I've written a bit about our early days in Israel on Shiloh Musings, since it's already fifty 50 years since our aliyah. There's lots more to tell. That first year in Israel was quite a year. We arrived by boat as newlyweds and finished the year as parents of an adorable baby girl.

Davka, our neighbors, even our closest friends in Shiloh, know almost nothing about that first year. It was a full decade before we moved to Shiloh. The one person we knew then in the Old City of Jerusalem, yes that's where we lived most of the first year, passed away a few years ago. That's one of the reasons I offered to tell our story to the senior citizen club, Adarta. Even though it's for our age, we generally don't go to the meetings. When we celebrated our fiftieth 50th wedding anniversary I realized that only two other couples have been married longer than we have. And as olim immigrants who had made aliyah as a married couple, we hold that record as having done it longer ago than any other.

I gave the talk in both Hebrew and English, translating for myself. The most frightening part was being without my mask, but all the audience wore masks and kept distant. 

Many in the audience want to hear more of my stories, so maybe I'll speak again to them.

Photos by Linda Fairman

Bilingually Mourning, Shiva in Two Languages

Since the 7 Day Shiva Candle was only lit halfway through shiva for my brother, it's still burning strong.

Or you can also call this post:

The Advantage/Adventure of Being Bilingual!

After close to forty-six, our 46th Aliyah Anniversary is in less than two months, years in Israel I've reached the point where I can rather easily switch between Hebrew and English pretty much mid-sentence. And many of our anglo friends are the same.

Even among friends more veteran here, and there aren't too many, English is still the language we prefer for conversing among ourselves. So while I was sitting shiva for my brother this week, a very good portion of the time you'd here only English. But then, if suddenly a Hebrew speaking neighbor would enter, they'd follow my lead and even mid-sentence switch into Hebrew. At no point did I have over anyone in the anglo crowd totally incapable of following the switch.

Shiloh isn't known as one of those "English speaking" places like Gush Etzion or Ramat Beit Shemesh, but there are quite a few anglos and bilinguals from birth, like my kids can be called. They are the Israelis who grew up hearing, and usually speaking, English at home but functioned in Hebrew outside. So, they appear to be regular Hebrew-speaking Israelis, but not only do they know English well, frequently as if they had been a foreign country, their culture and sense of humor are very binational.

That's it for now. Today is Friday, and I have so much to do... Back to ordinary life, thank Gd.

Sign is down, and Shiva is over

45 Years as Israelis!!!

Last night, September 5, after Shabbat was the non-Jewish date marking forty-five 45 years since my husband and I docked at Haifa Port on the Greek Lines Anna-Maria and became Israelis. There were over four hundred 400 other olim chadashim, new immigrants on the ship. We got full citizenship close to three years later, but that's a minor detail.

By using the date converter on the internet, I've discovered that we missed out on the Jewish anniversary of our aliyah by a couple of weeks.

Saturday night, the 5th of September 1970 = 5th of Elul, 5730 ה׳ בֶּאֱלוּל תש״ל

But considering that the move is something I have never regretted and celebrate daily, the exact Jewish date is not that important.

soon after arriving in Israel

My husband and I were young and admittedly immature when we got married announcing to all that we were not staying in the USA for long, but it was the wisest decision we could have made.

We first lived in the Maon Betar in the Old City of Jerusalem, before the area was called the "Jewish Quarter." There were very few Jews there besides those in Yeshivat Hakotel and NaChaL Moriah.

When our first child was born we moved to the Bayit Vegan neighborhood of Jerusalem to an apartment we had bought. In the mid-1970's we went on shlichut to do Zionist youth work in London with our then two daughters and returned home with a third.

On September 1, 1981, with four children including a newborn son, we moved to Shiloh. Just over two years later, our second son was born, and we still live in Shiloh. We've seen Shiloh, its school and the entire area around it grow and thrive over the decades. It feels very natural that I've spent more than half my life living in Shiloh, and so has my husband. What does feel strange is that we are now considered the "elderly" of the community. I really don't feel that old.

I have found a couple of other people who were on that ship with us and would love to find more. It would be amazing to have a reunion.

Aliyah Anniversary Season, Making More History

We davka celebrated our forty-third 43rd aliyah anniversary on the fifth 5th of Ellul the day we made a big sheva brachot (post-wedding) bash for our son and daughter-in-law.  This seems to be the season of aliyah milestones, especially since most Jews come from the northern hemisphere and summer moves are very common.

Nefesh B'Nefesh started its big aliyah enterprise with summer flights ten years ago, and I was privileged to be accepted as a bona fide journalist on a couple of flights to Israel, seven and eight years ago.

I wonder what these kids are doing now.

A also had the thrill of going to greet a plane of new immigrants a few years ago.

I really should do it again.

Too bad I missed Hadassa's son's flight.

Before I relinquished him to his friends and the flight into his future I blessed him as I do most Friday nights. I said out loud the bracha of Shehechyanu – thank you God for bringing us to this moment. There, in the swirling maelstrom of hundreds of people saying goodbye, I reminded my son how very much he is loved, and how very proud we are of him.
The pride in my heart waged war with the sadness of goodbyes. My first son to leave home. My eldest. Surrounded by loved ones who came to wish him well he took this big step. He hugged us all and waved goodbye. One of the next pictures I had of him was him landing in Israel with the biggest smile on his face that I have ever seen. His joy is my joy.
My other boys held my hand, and put their arms around me and were so solicitous as we walked to the car, the KoD providing a strong shoulder for me all morning. I didn’t expect the thump of sadness that was delivered to my heart. It hurt to leave, it hurt to say goodbye. But that smile on his face? I knew he’d be ok.

Photo credit: Shahar Azran

A charter plane dubbed the "soldiers' flight" touched down in Israel on Tuesday morning, bringing 125 young American Jews ready to don uniforms and join the ranks of the Israel Defense Forces.

The flight, carrying a total of 330 new immigrants from North America, included 63 men and 62 women aged 18 to 22 who will soon be inducted into the armed forces, most of them slated for combat. Israel Hayom

Way back when in 1970 I don't think my parents and in-laws felt the way Hadassa feels.  That's because mine and my husband's parents and their peers didn't dream of aliyah for themselves.  They, like their parents, considered living in America as being in the "promised land."  We betrayed all of that.  Our aliyah mocked their beliefs.

So many of my friends had voiced plans like mine and my husband's to make aliyah but they ended up staying in galut, gallus, the diaspora.  And then, they, too played the same script to their children to keep them from moving to Israel.

"First get an education and get yourself established."

Well, in all honesty and after almost a half a century of experience, I must say that is the perfect recipe to make aliyah difficult if not impossible.

All of my hugs and praise to Hadassa and the other parents who are supporting their children's decision to make aliyah now when they're young, before getting university educations etc.  Blessings to all!

Another Friday Funeral--The Last Dance

Yes, again we buried an old woman in the Shiloh Cemetery on a Friday morning.

Sixteen years ago, when the aliyah from Russia was reaching numbers beyond our wildest dreams, Shiloh invited olim to visit. We really didn't think of it as "recruitment" to bring more permanent residents, since hardly any of the olim, immigrants, were religiously observant, and Shiloh is a religious community.

I was on the Vaadat Klita, Absorption Committee, at the time, and we were surprised when a three generation clan contacted us that they wanted to move here. Their Shabbat as guests was a taste of Gan Eden, and they knew that Shiloh was the place for them. We were surprised to say the least, but after careful discussion and consultations, it was decided that we would accept any of the Russian Jewish olim who wanted to come, as long as they understood what type of community Shiloh is. The minimum from them was public observance of Shabbat.

The three generations of this clan enthusiastically embraced the opportunity to live as Torah-observant Jews. There were the elderly grandparents, Gretta, their daughter, and her daughter plus husband.

Within a few years, they all bought homes, and a fourth generation was born to the young couple. A number of other Soviet immigrants moved to Shiloh, many bought homes are live here happily.

"Savta Lyda" had been a pediatrician for forty years in the USSR, and she loved children. She also loved to dance, which she did at all of the festive occasions she attended. Neighbors who hosted Savat Lyda and Sabba Leib on Shabbat tell of how, even if she had been brought in a wheel chair, she would get out of it to sing and dance.

It was very hard to see that once dancing woman being buried, davka on the Eve of Purim. She danced her last.

Baruch Dayan Ha'emet

HaMakom Y'Nachem...

May G-d Comfort the Mourners...