Again I sit alone in my nice little house, the day after making aliya to Israel. Then came the overwhelming question--how will I manage all alone without my husband?
The doorbell rings loudly. I was startled. Who could it be? 'Hi'--it's my neighbor from across the street.
'Welcome' I say—'I'm so very glad to see you'. I understood that she was from America also. She has so many suggestions for me. 'Why don't you join the senior center'? 'Me!! Oh no--I'm not that old', I say--never stopping to admit to myself or anyone else that my age of 85 is definitely old. 'Well, maybe', I say, 'I might try it'.
The next day I try it. In the bus to the senior center I notice that everyone is talking to each other---in Hebrew. I say 'hi' and 'shalom'. When we arrive at the I center everyone piles out of the bus and I join them. Two nice ladies greet us and one directs me to my first class.
Art, my favorite, I enter timidly. There are about twenty people in the room along with two teachers. I speak to one teacher, Malka. She is very nice and speaks English quite well. She brings me all I will need to start my drawing. I begin to draw and I enjoy it. The other people are all occupied with their work. I look around. Their obvious enjoyment as they work is catching. I guess that their ages range from about seventy to me.
During the following few weeks I begin to also take ceramics classes and exercise. My ability to entrench myself into a group has always been very easy for me.
This is no different except for the language difficulty.
I have begun to make a few acquaintances. They seem interested in me and I am certainly interested in them.
I begin to write about their lives and religious affiliations. The Zionists, the modern orthodox, the conservative, the kabalist.; the atheists and the charedi..
My access to the Israeli world has barely begun.
The doorbell rings loudly. I was startled. Who could it be? 'Hi'--it's my neighbor from across the street.
'Welcome' I say—'I'm so very glad to see you'. I understood that she was from America also. She has so many suggestions for me. 'Why don't you join the senior center'? 'Me!! Oh no--I'm not that old', I say--never stopping to admit to myself or anyone else that my age of 85 is definitely old. 'Well, maybe', I say, 'I might try it'.
The next day I try it. In the bus to the senior center I notice that everyone is talking to each other---in Hebrew. I say 'hi' and 'shalom'. When we arrive at the I center everyone piles out of the bus and I join them. Two nice ladies greet us and one directs me to my first class.
Art, my favorite, I enter timidly. There are about twenty people in the room along with two teachers. I speak to one teacher, Malka. She is very nice and speaks English quite well. She brings me all I will need to start my drawing. I begin to draw and I enjoy it. The other people are all occupied with their work. I look around. Their obvious enjoyment as they work is catching. I guess that their ages range from about seventy to me.
During the following few weeks I begin to also take ceramics classes and exercise. My ability to entrench myself into a group has always been very easy for me.
This is no different except for the language difficulty.
I have begun to make a few acquaintances. They seem interested in me and I am certainly interested in them.
I begin to write about their lives and religious affiliations. The Zionists, the modern orthodox, the conservative, the kabalist.; the atheists and the charedi..
My access to the Israeli world has barely begun.
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