My first day back in Israel
I wrote this the first we got to Israel. So this is sort of a prequel for my blog. hehe. Anyway, keep in mind things have changed a lot since I wrote this.
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Monday, June 19, 2006
Actually it's Sunday night, though the clock that says 1:00 AM would agree with the date above. I don't accept that it's Monday until I lie down, sleep, and get up again with sun shining on my face. My mom told me to write a journal on my trip to Israel, she said to me, "Keep a journal; write every day without fail. There's a book in this trip you're taking." Well, we'll see. I'm writing mostly just to have something to look back on and see my perspectives on things, and have the novelty on how things change. I think I may share these entries with friends and family as well. It will help them, and me, feel connected during the big adventure away from them.
So, my wife and I leave in a little over 48 hours. I'm looking around my little studio apartment and it looks stripped of all personality. Though all our furniture is still in place (it will remain for use of whoever will be renting this after us) all our little charms are gone. The stained glass ornaments that hung from the window – gone. The pictures –gone; the oil painting above the bed -gone; the computers on my desk, gone. Even the pens and pencils that would have been left carelessly on top of the desk are gone. Our dresser is empty, our desks cleared of all belongings. All our little items are packed away in cardboard boxes that has been carefully placed in the garage out back. It is as if you can see the life ebb from very walls of this place we once called home.
We are leaving behind our studio apartment to make our grand journey to Israel. It isn't much of an apartment. It is in fact an enclosed patio made of aluminum frames and pressboard walls that are at most are an inch thick (on a humid day). The poor insulation means it gets hellish hot in the summer, damn cold in the winter.
This patio enclosure was constructed by the will of my wife's mother, Janet Liss, over 10 years ago. To help enable us to go to school full time, she allowed us to rent this extension from her house for a very reasonable price, especially for the area. Despite all its shortcomings, it's been home to Michal and I for some two years now. Even though I may complain endlessly, I find that it isn't as easy to leave as I thought it would be.
It's not that I don't want to go to Israel, though I wasn't always too keen on that idea as well. A trip over to the Holy Land last December has prepared me and I am actually very excited about being there. No, it's not fear of Israel, but more of a hesitation of leaving behind a part of me here. I have moved quite a bit in my life, and I have come to feel that you always leave a little bit of yourself behind every time you move. You find yourself sometimes visiting those places again and it is like you are looking at a part of yourself that you had almost forgotten about. I wonder how I will feel coming back here after our year in Israel is over.
Right now I feel sort of exhausted, but not in a sleepy sort of way. More in the, "I don't want to move or think too hard" sort of way. Packing was hard because we aren't just packing for a year in Israel, but also for a semi-permanent move to Ohio where Michal will finish out her rabbinical studies. After our year in Israel, we plan on coming back to Long Beach only long enough to settle our affairs and then gather our things for the move to Ohio. So really, we packed for two moves, not one.
Michal is fast asleep as I write this. She has lived here in Long Beach for her entire life, and the reality of leaving her life-long Jewish community and support network has finally hit her and taken its toll. She has held up very well, but mostly because she has escaped into the logistics of the move, packing non stop for the past three days. These connections can surprise you sometimes. It's like you don't know how much something means to you until you try to walk away from it. It's then that you have the sudden clarity of how much you want it. Life's a booger in that way.
Well, I should go to sleep soon; I have someone coming in the morning to buy our POS Toyota. Well, as much as a POS as a Toyota can get, which is way better than some cars new. With that car gone, my motorcycle still in the repair shop, and my beautiful black Nissan already sold to another family, we are left with no transportation of our own and will have to rely on the generosity of Janet and her car. It's two days so I think we can deal.
Tomorrow we will call everything and cancel it and then finish our packing for Jerusalem. We are only supposed to take 4 bags, but it looks like we are at 6, at least. Tomorrow is going to be a real Tetris-style evening, I can tell already.
------------
Monday, June 19, 2006
Actually it's Sunday night, though the clock that says 1:00 AM would agree with the date above. I don't accept that it's Monday until I lie down, sleep, and get up again with sun shining on my face. My mom told me to write a journal on my trip to Israel, she said to me, "Keep a journal; write every day without fail. There's a book in this trip you're taking." Well, we'll see. I'm writing mostly just to have something to look back on and see my perspectives on things, and have the novelty on how things change. I think I may share these entries with friends and family as well. It will help them, and me, feel connected during the big adventure away from them.
So, my wife and I leave in a little over 48 hours. I'm looking around my little studio apartment and it looks stripped of all personality. Though all our furniture is still in place (it will remain for use of whoever will be renting this after us) all our little charms are gone. The stained glass ornaments that hung from the window – gone. The pictures –gone; the oil painting above the bed -gone; the computers on my desk, gone. Even the pens and pencils that would have been left carelessly on top of the desk are gone. Our dresser is empty, our desks cleared of all belongings. All our little items are packed away in cardboard boxes that has been carefully placed in the garage out back. It is as if you can see the life ebb from very walls of this place we once called home.
We are leaving behind our studio apartment to make our grand journey to Israel. It isn't much of an apartment. It is in fact an enclosed patio made of aluminum frames and pressboard walls that are at most are an inch thick (on a humid day). The poor insulation means it gets hellish hot in the summer, damn cold in the winter.
This patio enclosure was constructed by the will of my wife's mother, Janet Liss, over 10 years ago. To help enable us to go to school full time, she allowed us to rent this extension from her house for a very reasonable price, especially for the area. Despite all its shortcomings, it's been home to Michal and I for some two years now. Even though I may complain endlessly, I find that it isn't as easy to leave as I thought it would be.
It's not that I don't want to go to Israel, though I wasn't always too keen on that idea as well. A trip over to the Holy Land last December has prepared me and I am actually very excited about being there. No, it's not fear of Israel, but more of a hesitation of leaving behind a part of me here. I have moved quite a bit in my life, and I have come to feel that you always leave a little bit of yourself behind every time you move. You find yourself sometimes visiting those places again and it is like you are looking at a part of yourself that you had almost forgotten about. I wonder how I will feel coming back here after our year in Israel is over.
Right now I feel sort of exhausted, but not in a sleepy sort of way. More in the, "I don't want to move or think too hard" sort of way. Packing was hard because we aren't just packing for a year in Israel, but also for a semi-permanent move to Ohio where Michal will finish out her rabbinical studies. After our year in Israel, we plan on coming back to Long Beach only long enough to settle our affairs and then gather our things for the move to Ohio. So really, we packed for two moves, not one.
Michal is fast asleep as I write this. She has lived here in Long Beach for her entire life, and the reality of leaving her life-long Jewish community and support network has finally hit her and taken its toll. She has held up very well, but mostly because she has escaped into the logistics of the move, packing non stop for the past three days. These connections can surprise you sometimes. It's like you don't know how much something means to you until you try to walk away from it. It's then that you have the sudden clarity of how much you want it. Life's a booger in that way.
Well, I should go to sleep soon; I have someone coming in the morning to buy our POS Toyota. Well, as much as a POS as a Toyota can get, which is way better than some cars new. With that car gone, my motorcycle still in the repair shop, and my beautiful black Nissan already sold to another family, we are left with no transportation of our own and will have to rely on the generosity of Janet and her car. It's two days so I think we can deal.
Tomorrow we will call everything and cancel it and then finish our packing for Jerusalem. We are only supposed to take 4 bags, but it looks like we are at 6, at least. Tomorrow is going to be a real Tetris-style evening, I can tell already.
posted by Michal at 8:07 AM
2 Comments:
Hmm...i know what you mean about moving...never being able to lay down some roots...but you guys will always have family here. you're only gonna be gone for...oy...but hey...like i said, you guys will always have family here!
LOL!!! I love your wit Joe. I never know what to expect when I check your posts. This post makes us feel very loved, thanks.
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