Citizens Katz (Article #11) 7/13/2006

It is either 8:20 p.m. or 3:20 a.m.—depending on how you look at things—and we are over the Atlantic Ocean somewhere south of England. We will land in about five hours, but we have already signed all the paperwork and will officially be Israeli citizens when we land.

The lights are out in the main cabin, yet everyone is finding it very hard to sleep, especially the children. There is a tangible excitement on the plane and there is a lot of talking and socializing going on. People from different communities are meeting each other, comparing notes and experiences.

This El Al flight is very different than any we have flown on before. First off, everyone is actually happy to be on the plane; there’s no worrying about the people in the next aisle or in your row being unpleasant or climbing over you to go to the bathroom. Throughout this flight, everyone introduces themselves to their neighbors, sharing their stories, plans, and hopes.

Another difference: Normally, the passengers applaud when an El Al flight lands in Israel; this flight got applause at takeoff.

Our kids have made friends on the plane. Some of these friends will be in the same schools as them, others will not; yet all the kids face the same uncertainty of knowing that they are going into a situation where they will be the “new kids in town” and they are clearly all doing their best to be sociable and make friends.

We spent the last two days trying to close up our lives in Woodmere. The bulk garbage pickup guys will probably pass out when they get to our home. Once our shipping container drove off, we went into the final stages of preparation and really went through the house shutting things down and throwing things out.

We had originally planned on sleeping at home on air mattresses that we had bought for that purpose. However, the movers packed all the linens when our backs were turned, and we didn’t have any blankets left. This was actually to our benefit, since we barely got all our stuff into the 14 pieces of baggage we were allowed to bring on the flight. So after a dinner out, we shipped the kids off to Bubbee and Zaidy nice and early, and had time to really get things done without them underfoot.

It was very strange to walk through an empty house. The echo was unnerving, especially when the phone rang—and ring it did. It seems that everyone decided to either drop by or phone us in the last two days before we left. Thankfully, Goldie fielded most of the calls, leaving me (somewhat) free to continue to pack all the things Goldie had prepared and to seal the luggage. While we were gratified to have the opportunity to say good-bye to our friends and family, the constant interruptions made it difficult to get anything done.

On Tuesday, Goldie’s brother took advantage of the national holiday to host a good-bye party for us as well as a “Happy Birthday” party for Goldie’s grandmother. It gave us the opportunity to get away from the stress of the preparations and relax for a few hours.

One of my brothers-in-law dislocated his shoulder at the party and had to be hauled away to the hospital, which caused the focus to be taken off of us for a while, and we left without an emotional good-bye scene. (He is, thankfully, fine.)

We headed back to the Five Towns with Goldie crying over our “last trip over the bridge,” “We will never go to the Bronx Zoo again,” etc., each time we passed a milestone on the route. Then we began the “departure watch” as all the neighbors and friends called or stopped by to say one final good-bye.

Through that night and the next morning, we began to anticipate things as we sealed our luggage and prepared to close up the house one final time. Thankfully, Wednesday morning’s torrential downpours were halted for the 15 minutes it took us to load up the hired van that took us to the airport. We loaded up the kids and bags and our move began.

At the airport, we hired a porter to walk through the terminal with our 15 pieces of checked baggage and 11 carry-ons. We got our tickets from the special Nefesh B’Nefesh check-in desk, and went through security and baggage checks without a hitch.

At the airport, Goldie’s parents and one brother and sister (and brother-in-law) joined us for the farewell ceremonies. Chaia Broderick (who is making aliyah this August) also came to see us off, and Yehuda Kunstler stopped in for a second to wish us luck.

At the ceremony, the NBN people thanked the local people for all that they have done, and they recognized various dignitaries who would be flying with us. (I understand the need for it, but thought it ran a little too long and was too boring.) Then we were told to head off to the terminal, so we marched ourselves to security and paused for final good-byes.

Originally, we had told all the relatives not to come to the airport. I thought the parting would be too difficult there, with a whole lot of crying and carrying on. Goldie decided that it would be OK after all, and of course there was a whole lot of crying going on.

We eventually extracted ourselves and got through security. Of course, with all those carry-on bags and the various shoes, cellphones, keychains, etc., that we had, it took us quite some time to get through the metal detectors. Then we made our way to the gate.

I thought we were late and would have no room for our stuff in the overhead bins, but we arrived just in time for boarding and, since we were traveling with kids, were among the first to enter the plane.

After takeoff, I was interviewed by Israelnationalnews.com (a picture of me being interviewed apparently appeared on the Arutz Sheva website). We were served dinner and drinks, and after the meal service they asked us all to stay in our seats so that they could process our papers in flight, moving from the rear of the plane to the front.

Unbeknownst to us, there was a new twist to the NBN on-board aliyah services. For the first time ever, tablet PCs with touch screens were used to process each person’s aliyah forms. Since the seating was prearranged by NBN, they knew in advance whose forms needed to come up first, and when they reached us, they knew who we were without needing to ask.

After reviewing our paperwork and seeing copies of our aliyah visas, there was only one question they needed to ask: Does anyone want to change their name? Since they Hebraize your legal name, they give olim the opportunity to select a more Hebrew-sounding name as they become citizens. I, for instance, chose to change my legal name from Stuart Samuel to Shmuel.

Once we got that out of the way, we simply signed our names directly into the computer on the various forms that we had submitted previously to NBN (which had obviously been scanned into the computer) and *poof*, we were processed and done. It was that simple!

The Mishnah says that anyone who has not personally experienced the Simchat Beit HaShoevah has not experienced true simcha. Not to say that it approaches such a level in any way, but I have to say that there are no words to adequately describe the experience of getting off that plane on Thursday morning.

IT WAS AWESOME!

I have never experienced such overwhelming joy from so many people at the same time! The kids had barely slept for the whole flight; they were simply too keyed-up. As we approached the airport, everyone was busy looking out the windows and showing their kids various landmarks and sights (not that we were really sure of what we were seeing).

Suddenly, the section in front of us began to clap and sing “Veshavu Vanim.” The rest of the plane clapped along without knowing that there was singing going on. After a minute, the song switched to “Veshuvu El Hashem” and then, before we knew it, the Israeli Chassidic Song Festival apparently broke out on the plane. “Gesher Tzar Me’od” was next. I don’t remember the other songs, but if it was recorded in the 70s or 80s, it was sung on our plane!

At the moment of touchdown, there wasn’t applause. Applause doesn’t describe it. The entire cabin erupted with cheering. The Hatikvah was sung (a few stalwarts who decided that they just had to stand up for Hatikvah were chided by the cabin crew to please sit down). The plane slowly taxied to the old International Terminal, where we finally stopped.

Using this terminal allowed us to disembark using stairs instead of a Jetway, and allowed easy access for the reception ceremonies. The only thing I can think of to describe what it was like coming out of that plane is to say it was like being born, or perhaps emerging from a cocoon.

We walked out onto the top of the stairway, and the flight attendants were there to wish us a Mazal Tov and to tell us “welcome home,” with huge smiles on their faces. About 100 yards off to the right, we could see the covered outdoor reception area (it had a roof but no walls) where there was music, cheering, dancing, and a major party clearly going on.

As we descended the stairs, the head of the Absorption Department personally greeted each oleh, wishing us a Mazal Tov, as well. At the bottom of the stairs we were greeted by a huge press gathering. Cameras were flashing and people asked us who we were and where we were from.

After that, we moved onto a waiting bus so that we could be driven across the road to the reception. When the doors opened to let us out of the bus, we were met with a blast of sound and energy. There were literally hundreds of soldiers (male and female), Bnei Akiva youth (male and female), members of the Sochnut (the organization that sends aliyah sh’lichim worldwide) and, of course, the family and friends of the olim all waiting for us. They were jumping up and down, singing, clapping, shouting, crying, and so overwhelming us that we were stunned.

We tried to make our way through this sea of people when my sister suddenly appeared from the crowd to kiss and hug us and the kids. The photographers were climbing over each other to get a good shot of us as all this was going on around us. (You can see pictures of us getting off of the bus at www.jr.co.il/pictures/israel/history/a20.htm.)

In Goldie’s words: It was an amazing moment. I was behind you the whole time, so I got to see the whole thing and it was just amazing.

We slowly made our way to the seating area, grabbing some water and snacks for the kids and composing ourselves before the official reception ceremonies. I had thought that the clamor would diminish over time. After all, how could they keep up all that singing and dancing and shouting? Yet, as each bus opened its doors, it seemed as if things were even louder than before.

As we sat there, various people from NBN stopped by to welcome us, some of whom we had met before and others of whom we had only spoken with on the phone. Additionally, representatives of different organizations (like kupat cholim/medical insurance) came by to introduce themselves and offer their help in getting us signed up for their services.

Eventually, the welcome program began. We were greeted by a host of dignitaries from the government, El Al, NBN, etc. President Katsav addressed us. There were presentations made to the various people who either contributed financially or with their efforts.

Quite frankly, while I understand the need for the public recognition of these people, we were all really too tired for this type of ceremony. Essentially, they were all thrilled to welcome us home and quite happy to take their time in telling us so. One fellow gave us some good advice, but I was so exhausted at the time that I have no recollection of what he actually said—only that it seemed to be very important at the time.

One highlight of the program was when the entire Greenberg family from Cedarhurst was called to the stage to be personally presented with their te’udat oleh (aliyah certificate) by the head of the Absorption Department. We made sure that we were on the first bus to the terminal to process our passports (our aliyah visas finally got put to actual use), collect our first financial aliyah payment, get our bags, and head off on our free taxi ride to our home.

The financial payment and free taxi ride are just some of the benefits afforded to olim. As support for families in the initial six months—when they assume most of us do not have jobs—the Israeli Government pays a stipend to olim. The amount of the stipend varies depending on family size, and the initial payment is made in cash when you leave the airport. Further payments are made via direct deposit once you have opened a bank account. The government also pays for free ulpan so that you can learn Hebrew.

We waited forever for the bags. You would think that they had a ton of time to process the baggage while we all waited for the welcoming ceremony to be completed. If you thought that, you thought wrong. I waited for the bags while Goldie collected our financial payment and Teudat Olah (Aliyah Certificate). Once we had everything, we made our way through customs and to the prearranged free taxi rides home.

Then the fun began. We handed our voucher to the people handling the taxis. However, since the person with the passes for the taxis to enter the bus loading area was still at the reception, we had to walk our loaded baggage carts about a third of a mile to get to our taxis. In the hot sun. With all those suitcases and carry-ons. Then, we had to shout at a porter to get him to move his wagon approximately four feet so that we could get by with our bags (our true welcome to Israel), load up the taxi/van, and leave.

Just as we were about to leave, the driver got called back and we turned around and returned to the terminal. After waiting for 15 minutes for our driver, I left the van to find out that a different person had the exit passes for all the taxis, and those were also on their way. He eventually made it and we headed off to Ramat Beit Shemesh.

The kids (except Batya) finally nodded off one by one in the car as we drove. Of course, our taxi driver had no clue how to get there, so I had to give him directions, talking him through each turn all the way to our front door (we only missed one turn and quickly corrected the error with a minimum of lost time).

We had taken a short-term furnished home rental because our final rental home will not be ready (according to the landlord) until August. The homes are only a few blocks from each other, and we hadn’t actually seen the furnished home yet, but had a good idea where to go.

NBN assigned us a buddy family to act as a type of big brother/sister to us—someone we could call upon as needed, to show us the ropes and guide us along the way. Unfortunately for them, Ephraim and Amy Schneider (who made aliyah three years ago from Elizabeth, N.J.) and their seven children were assigned as our buddies. They recently made a bar mitzvah (Mazal Tov!), and we had only been able to be in contact with one another through an e-mail and a telephone call.

When we got to the door, there was a big “WELCOME TO ISRAEL” sign for us from the Schneiders. I know that when I saw it, I was moved and excited. To me, it meant that someone in our community took the effort to do something special to make us feel welcome.

Within minutes (as we were still loading our bags into the house from the street), Ephraim Schneider was at the door with kids, welcoming us and doing whatever he could to see what we might need. He helped us turn on the water (very important) and calm down. Amy turned up a few minutes later as we began to unpack, and they really did their utmost to make us feel welcome and taken care of.

Our initial plan was to head off for lunch and then the makolet (local supermarket) to buy groceries. We had gotten to the house at 1:20 p.m. or so, and wanted to avoid jet lag by staying up all day and going to sleep at a regular time. The kids had other plans. Since we weren’t all that hungry, we started to unpack and allowed them to roam around.

Throughout the next hour and a half, we tried to unpack, but were stopped by either new neighbors coming to greet us, or our own inability to focus on the task at hand. Aliza fell asleep sometime during unpacking, and we had a tough time waking her when we decided that we needed to get everyone moving and off at least to the makolet so that they could keep awake and busy.

We had worn our NBN T-shirts from the Israeli Day Parade on the flight. With our dazed and exhausted look, our T-shirts were dead giveaways that we were new olim, and we were greeted time and again by total strangers asking when we arrived. Upon hearing that we were in Israel all of six hours or so, they were all so nice and friendly.

Sora Baila Axselrod (yes, that one—she made aliyah last year) had already arranged Shabbat meals for us, yet we must have gotten at least five invitations that day from complete strangers who were perfectly happy to have another seven people at their Shabbat table with only one day notice.

At the makolet the kids got a kick out of seeing milk being sold in a bag and trying to recognize all the American products. The owners of the makolet chased after us when we left, to present us with a free box of chocolate truffles—a gift as olim. The same thing happened at the local bagel store the next day, where we were presented with a really nice welcoming gift basket.

Nefesh B’Nefesh produced a video regarding children and aliyah. In the video, the parent talks about how the children were whisked away the very first day they arrived in Israel, with an obviously staged scene of children knocking on the door and taking the new kid with them to play. This is literally what happened at our house.

Within minutes of our return from the makolet (where the kids got a little second wind), there was a knock on our door. “I heard that you have a 10-year-old daughter. Can she come play?” One after another, our kids were all called for. The respite from the kids allowed us to finish unpacking and settling in.

As we finished, Ephraim Schneider showed up with a new Beit Shemesh phone book and a whole stack of magnets for the local pizza stores, bagel store, candy store, etc., who all deliver for free. We quickly ordered a couple of pizzas for dinner.

There was another knock on the door and we were visited by representatives of a local kupat cholim (like an HMO; more about that in a future article) with a welcome basket in hand. They had their literature, as well, and were trying to recruit us to sign up for their plan. Since we had already decided to join their specific group, they quickly set an appointment to pick us up at 10:00 a.m. the next day and take us to register.

Fifteen minutes later, when the pizzas arrived, we tried to find all the kids for supper. Another thing we need to adjust to in Israel: the kids just disappear. We live in the last house on a dead-end street. There is very little traffic. Mordechai (age 5) walked right out the door with his new friend Ephraim from across the street. They just went wherever they needed to—the playground down the block, another friend’s house. It is accepted here that a 5-year-old is old enough to go off on his own.

Although Aliza only showed up two hours later (having gone off with four friends—three new ones and one whom she knew from the Five Towns who had made aliyah last year), we got the kids all fed and in bed according to plan by 9 p.m. We had deliberately kept them up all day so that we could all get a nice long sleep and begin to adjust our body schedules. Well, so much for planning. We were all up at 2 a.m. and we had a little party (leftover pizza and nosh) before finally getting back to sleep for the rest of the night.