Israel Independence Day

“What Happens in Israel Doesn’t Stay in Israel…

I’m Telling You”

We’ve been to Israel many, many times. Sometimes we led a tour; sometimes we were on some official mission sponsored by one Israel agency or another; and twice on sabbatical. Funny stuff can happen there – anywhere, obviously – so in honor of this 72nd anniversary of the birth of the State of Israel, here are a few.

Don’t negotiate with an Arab unless you mean business! Soon after we arrived for our year in Israel, a couple of weeks after our 1969 wedding, Suzy and I went to the Old City where the Arab shuk (market) is located. They sell everything. There was a hassock we really liked and of course you MUST bargain with them, something I’m very bad at doing. When you get to your last offer you’re supposed to leave. Well, I left, but after walking a block in the cramped alley I realized Suzy was nowhere to be seen. I went back to the stall and found her. She wasn’t being held hostage, but the guy did want to sell me that hassock. We bought it. Did I know the original asking price was Suzy!?

On one occasion while in the Sinai dessert, a group of Bedouin men came upon our truck. One woman in our group was particularly attractive. Now we didn’t understand Arabic and they didn’t understand Hebrew. It turns out their conversation was dedicated to finding out the price we’d ask for in exchange for our friend. OMG! We learned they meant business; thank God they eventually realized we didn’t…but we almost went back to Jerusalem with two camels, minus one student.

When we were on our first sabbatical in 1981 David was six and Alex was two. David went to a day camp and Alex stayed with a babysitter who also watched her little granddaughter. She spoke no English. Had we been in Israel two more weeks Alex would have been fluent in Hebrew, but at this point he knew enough just to get into trouble. We came back to the States and on our first night we ate dinner at Howard Johnson’s, of blessed memory. Of course, waiting for the meal to arrive is always a challenge with two kids. David started bothering Alex, and in far more than a stage whisper, Alex yelled “Die, David, Die!” Well, a blue-haired lady turned around and said, “Young man, that’s not a nice thing to say to your brother.” I simply couldn’t hold back (surprised?), “Ma’am, we believe it’s a very appropriate thing to say.” I thought the poor woman was going to keel over. Well, folks (hmmm, I get the feeling I mentioned this incident before but so what), you all know that Dayeinu means “it would have been enough for us.” If you drop the “einu” you’re left with the word pronounced “DIE,” meaning, “ENOUGH ALREADY!” You see…very appropriate in that context.

On our last tour of Israel, we went to Petra in Jordan. Petra is one of the seven wonders of the world, a city carved in the stones of a valley. If you don’t want to go to Petra, try to view the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark. Anyway, you walk about a mile to get to that drop-dead site (you can take a donkey-drawn buggy, but you’ll never sit again). Since the last time we had been there they extended the area in which you could travel, putting up a restaurant a mile from the original end. So, we walked the extra mile (sorry), had a wonderful meal, and realized we had two miles of traveling to get back to the entrance. I told Suzy, “I ain’t walking, PERIOD!” and my choices of transportation were donkey or camel. It’s a good thing I said to myself that the distance from the hump to the ground is farther than the distance from the donkey’s back to the ground. Why? Because I was a bit too tall for the donkey, my good buddy, and my feet dragged on the ground but when I was getting off, the kid who was leading the animal incorrectly told me how to dismount. I slid off the back of the donkey and my hip smacked into the stone of the valley. The pain was unreal. I had to fly to the US that night – don’t ask - and when I arrived in Delaware, I immediately went to UrgentCare. I didn’t break anything, but I walked with a cane for two weeks (again I ask, did I tell you this story before? So be it). I wondered which one of us was the jack*** .

We loved all our Israel experiences. Another tour is being planned for this coming February and I briefly advertised on the holydays. Whether or not it’s a go is doubtful because of the virus, but when I know I’ll share that information. And maybe I’ll tell you some other incidents down the pike.

(Speaking of Israel, the police there were looking for a man who calls himself Joseph. He’s wanted for looting offenses in Haifa. The suspect is described as the son of a Barcelona ex-nun and a German father. He’s a former flautist and works occasionally on a farm. In short, he’s “A Haifa-lootin’, flutin’ Teuton, son-of-a-nun from Barcelona, part-time ploughboy Joe”)

Look at it this way, friends, if I didn’t offer such awful jokes, I would have NOTHING to repent for on Yom Kippur!