Saba Shmu (Article# 82) 5/8/2008

One of the Pesach “traditions” we had developed in Woodmere was the habit of converting our kitchen back to chametz as quickly as possible and then getting our annual pizza delivery from one of the Eisen boys from across the street (who probably brought back pizza for everyone on our end of the block each year). This year (and maybe last – I really don’t remember, and I didn’t write last year about doing so), we continued this tradition, sending Zaidy and Chaim out for a couple of pies to “ring in the chometz”.

It was my last pizza for a while. With all the different changes and stresses we went through since making Aliyah, I put on fifty unneeded pounds. According to an informal poll of Bet Shemesh residents, this is actually unusual, as most of those I spoke with talked about losing weight in the move. In any case, I decided to make a real drive to lose the weight starting the day after Pesach and hope to have it off by Channuka.

On Sunday, the last day all the kids would be able to be with Bubbee and Zaidy for the entire day, we took almost (no Chaim) everyone to Yerushalayim for a little shopping (and for me to spend some time in the office trying to begin to get back up to speed). Shopping in the mall in Yerushalayim is an experience in itself; the Malcha mall is NEVER empty – the crowds there resemble walking down a Manhattan sidewalk at lunch time. However, as I regularly say, there is nothing quite like being able to eat at most of the restaurants in the food court.

Thankfully, the elementary schools only took one day of additional vacation after Pesach and by Thursday – even Chaim was back in Yeshiva. School started on Monday for most of the kids and after Bubby and Zaidy left on Monday night (after a too short 11 day stay), we made our way back to a somewhat normal routine by the end of the week.

Getting back to routine from any long break is always an experience. In the Yeshiva, it means greeting the talmidim as they return from their chag experience (some of them in Israel and others who returned home to be with their families). After Pesach we also get an inclination of which of them will be coming back to the Yeshiva for a second year, which adds a little excitement to their arrival as well.

Although most Yeshivot (post HS) in the USA begin on the first day of Iyar, in Israel there are many Yeshivot who started a few days earlier in order to have their students back for Yom Hashoa. We started on the day before Yom Hashoa in order to give some special shiurim on the day and to prepare everyone for the day.

This was our second Yom Hashoa in Israel. When I was here as a teen, I left for Pesach and never returned and missed it. Last year, we were a few days post-diagnosis and Goldie and I were at a doctor’s office in the basement of a hospital. We didn’t hear the siren and with all the things we were dealing with at the time, the truth is that we really weren’t able to focus on the day.

Having completed some errands in the center of town, Goldie and I headed for a major seforim sale run each year by the Mossad HaRav Kook publishing company (right behind the Mercaz HaRav Yeshiva). We had a list of gifts to buy and the sale could not have come at a better time. The doors were scheduled to open at 10 AM, the same time as the Yom Hashoa siren and minute of silence.

Wanting to really experience the moment, Goldie and I headed for a major intersection two blocks away, literally at the entrance to Yerushalayim. Within minutes the siren sounded and life literally ground to a halt. Busses and taxis stopped in the middle of the road and their drivers stood outside their vehicles in respect. All pedestrian traffic froze. My sister told me she was once on the expressway and it was unbelievable to watch all the traffic instantly freeze.

I know that the USA has Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day and these are recognized as honoring those who have served their country. However, with Yom Hashoa and Yom Hazikaron (coming up in a couple days), Israel’s observances pack much more power and really focus on memorializing those who have been lost. Although it is only for a matter of seconds, the entire country focuses on honoring and remembering those who were killed at the same time and in a somber and respectful fashion. Yes, we also have parades and services, but there is nothing quite like that minute.

Of course, it goes without saying that Goldie cried. I turned to her as the sirens ended and there she was, wiping away the tears. While seeing her cry was not surprising, her explanation was. She said that it was the first time that she really took a minute to think about all the people lost in her mother’s side of the family and to consider how our lives would have been different, if only…

When we got home, each kid had a different story of what they were doing and how they reacted to the sirens. Chaim and Chaya were home (Chaya was laying in bed doing homework and she jumped up when she heard the siren – in the privacy of her bedroom). Aliza was in the middle of an assembly at school where the twelfth graders were reading very emotional compositions on the holocaust. As she put it, the whole room was swimming from the tears. Batya and Mordechai were in special assemblies in their schools, and Mordechai told us that on his own, he decided to say some tehillim to himself while the siren was ringing.

We have a friend who assists in Mordechai’s first grade classroom. She told us a bit about the special lessons they teach in the first grade here and we were overwhelmed. In order to relate the day to their level, the teacher described some of the hardships the little kids went through, talking about children leaving the ghetto through the sewers to go search for food for their families. She also got some fascinating questions from the boys. One of the most interesting ones to us was……

“Why didn’t they just come to Israel when it was so bad there?”

Sometimes we take what we have for granted.

On Shabbat, Chaia Broderick joined Goldie, me and Moshe for a walk to the park. At the park, Moshe found one of his three year old friends from his playgroup and was busy playing together with him and his father (who was clearly much younger than us) while we sat and schmoozed on a park bench. About a half hour passed when Moshe tried to climb on a specific riding toy at the park and couldn’t get it right, so I got up to help him.

“Look Moshe,” said his friend’s father, “your grandfather is coming to show you how!” “His FATHER!” I yelled, to the delight of Goldie and Chaia, who were laughing uncontrollably. Even though it didn’t make a difference to this guy, I made sure to explain that Moshe was my youngest child while his son was clearly the oldest, leading to the difference in their fathers’ ages.

I think it was the hair. The gray has come out again in a big way (especially the sefira beard). Maybe I need to color it again.