Children Move On (Article# 118) 6/18/2009

This is going to be a tough week to write. I had originally intended to discuss changes in my life, both personal and professional. However, my denial of events couldn’t stop time, and our oldest son has left the nest—a change that was expected yet still traumatic.

Chaim boarded a plane on Monday night and headed back to America, this time quite possibly for good. We’ll still see him for vacations and on our trips to the USA, but he is entering college in the fall and has expressed his desire to live his life there. No matter where he ends up, this was our last full-time experience with him being home.

Had we stayed in America, he would of course be coming to Israel this fall with the rest of his American peers. After a year or perhaps two, he would have returned to the USA, and gone to university. Had he chosen a dormitory university, we would have seen him only on Shabbatot and vacations, yet he would still have been based at home until he either took his own apartment or got married.

Here in Israel, his peers are heading to either a year of preparatory college (in advance of university) or straight to the army. They too will come home for furloughs and weekend breaks. They will certainly set up their own lives once they finish their military service, yet the country is so small that it is much easier to maintain that parent/child connection that is so vital to us as parents.

Of course, it is possible that Chaim would have decided to stay in Israel for the long term (as did my sister, who only came back for brief visits after her year in Israel). This is not unheard of, and in a family of six children there is a good chance that this would have happened to us with one of our kids anyway—although perhaps not at 18, and not in this direction (moving from Israel to the USA).

We are actually a bit lucky that he was here for this year at all. His original plan was to go to college following a single year of post-high-school learning. Having earned his high-school degree quite early, he had intended to go to YU at 17, and he only decided to stay for a second year of learning late in the year. He was convinced to stay an additional year partially by his friends but also by the university itself, whose representatives expressed their concern about a 17-year-old’s maturity and ability to handle a rigorous schedule.

I am sure that many of you have already experienced this feeling of pride and sadness and can probably tell me that this is the way things go. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.

He goes with our hopes and dreams, all our wishes and plans for who he will become, the life he will lead and the family he will grow. He leaves having been a superstar in dealing at age 15 with a life-altering move of 6,000 miles to a land he never wanted to live in. He lost his friends and everything that was comfortable in his life, yet he somehow found a new life and a new existence here in Bet Shemesh. An emerging love for Israel was just the icing on the cake.

He has his own dreams and, for the time being, they do not intersect with ours. Despite all the hardship and struggles he went through in coming here, I think he is a much stronger person. He has devoted the past two years to his Torah learning and has become much more of a mentsch than we deserved for him to be. He will follow his own path, and we look forward to continued pride in him wherever he goes and whatever he does.

The departure was traumatic for some and not much of a big deal for others. Moshe, the baby, thinks that Chaim went to “Damerica” for a couple of days and will wonder where he is at the end of the week when he hasn’t come home. Mordechai was much more upset, saying, “I don’t want him to go!” and “If he goes, I go!” Batya was also quite upset. Aliza and Chaya were a little sad, but the tears only began to flow in earnest when Chaim went to say goodbye to Goldie, who did not take things well at all. She refused to go to the airport, because she didn’t think she could handle it, so she said goodbye at the door. With all the crying going on, I myself was able to remain pretty calm about the whole thing. But I definitely felt the passing of time and the realization that we are entering yet another stage in our growth.

My sister Bluma’s son had his own transition this past week, as well. Her third son, my nephew Idan, became a bar mitzvah last Monday and, for the first time ever, my entire family was able to participate in the simcha. In fact, my brother Ozer noted later that it was the first time since my wedding that all the Katzes were in the same room at the same time. There was someone missing for all subsequent s’machot, be it my brother-in-law or Goldie or our kids.

My brother-in-law Arieh is of Tunisian descent, so we had a really Sephardi celebration. Having been through this a couple of times, I am prepared for the constant barrage of candy from the women, the “Kooooolooloolooloolooloolooloo” yodels that serenade each person’s ascent for his aliyah, and even the different cantillations and nigunim. The only thing that makes me crazy is the amount of TIME they spend on davening. Everything is said out loud by the chazzan. Each word. One thing I remind myself at each simcha is that I simply do not have the patience to be a Sephardi.

My brother-in-law has a terrific family. Twelve brothers and sisters, and they really represent all walks of Israeli society, yet they are accepting and loving of one another in a way that is truly inspirational. I have come to know some of them, and their encouragement and support to us, both in making aliyah and in all the trials we have had since coming here, has made us feel so loved.

On Shabbat, my sister’s sisters-in-law all said to her, “You cannot serve or help in any way”; they wanted her to enjoy the simcha without having to worry about the details. It is apparently an unwritten rule in their family that you might need to work like a dog in preparing for the simcha, but once the day arrives everyone else pitches in so you can enjoy.

Goldie had such a terrific time with them that she asked Bluma if it might be possible for her (Goldie) to be adopted into the Uzan family (especially the ones with Temani spouses who were really the most fun of all the siblings) so that she could enjoy them all the more.

Of course, as generally happens, “when it rains it pours.” So, we missed the bar mitzvah of Yehoshua Rosner (Rabbi and Mrs. Rosner’s son), the first bar mitzvah in our shul—although we did get to the Sunday-night party in Yeshivat Reishit Yerushalayim and got to visit with former Five Towners Gary and Kiki Schickman, Martin and Debbie Rothman, Gary Wallin, and Bonnie Polansky, who we don’t usually see, as well as shul members Mutty and Penina Eichler, Josh and Daniella Rudof, and Jon and Sarah Paley.

We also missed the bar mitzvah of Chaim Jacobs (son of Zvi and Amy) in the USA. I remember Chaim as a teeny tiny kid posing with me as the extra-small and xxx-large models for a Yeshiva of South Shore sweatshirt (he was standing on a table and still only came to my shoulder). We apparently missed my cousin Shua and Devorah Ray’s daughter Kayla’s bat mitzvah in Chicago last month (our invite got sent back in the mail, taking over two months to make the round trip from Chicago to Israel and back; mail service here is spotty at best) as well as the birth of her newest younger sister Libby last week.

Mazal tov to them all. For those who we were able to share in their simcha, we were glad to be there and celebrate together. For the others: Why are you still in America?