Shalom and Hello to my dearest children, grandchildren, family, friends, neighbors, and all who wish to read.
I am fine, looking forward to return, hoping the snow will melt. Finef, my cat, took sick, I thank my dear neighbor, Gerry, assisted by my daughter in law, Barbara, my son Adam, and grandson Abba-Natan, (all are dear and beloved), the cat is getting to his own self again. Thank You, cat lovers.
Here in Israel we experienced a phenomenon in the last two days. An horrendous dust storm based from the Sahara hit Israel as well as countries in north Africa, middle east, and even the south of Europe. The air in the southern part of Israel was a visible yellow- orange in color. The visibility was reduced to no more then 10 feet. All form of communication in Israel requested its citizens to stay home, with closed windows. This dust is harmful to human and animals, however, it is an important ecological event.
The dust particles nourishing the African land, and by way all other areas affected. The dust accumulates on land on the leaves of trees, and plants. Once the rain comes it washes the dust that soaks into the land and acts as the best nature fertilizer.
Yes, about 36 hours after the dust storm hit us, the rain came and washed the air.
A couple of days ago, I had another opportunity, to visit my childhood neighborhood.
The reason was the visit of Asher & Sharon Levitsky in Israel. ( Friends from my synagogue in NYC). I was born and raised in the south part of Tel-Aviv, a neighborhood bordering the Arab city of Jaffa, today under one municipality of the greater Tel-Aviv.
As I walked through the path of my past, we visited the Suzzan-Dallal center for art, dance and theater, which used to be my elementary school campus. We visited the Neve-Zedek
neighborhood, the first Jewish quarter in the Arab city, Jaffa. Neve-Zedek going through renovation, were we discovered an advertisement by a realtor for a home on sale 40,000,000 Shekel. (= about $ 12,000,000). I remember the neighborhood filled with small hut for homes....We continued walking in now and then the main street name Shabazi.
At that point of my story, I will go back to tell about my mother, Pearl, who for years visited an old cobbler on Shabazi street. The story I heard from her, was about me who at the age of three or four, still did not talk. (hard to believe). She put me in the stroller, and walked to Shabazi street to visit the old cobbler. I understood he blessed me, (and my mother) and promise soon I will be talking. Happily, Pearl, my mother, left walking back home, crossing what was then a main artery, the Tel-Aviv / Jaffa road.
Thinking more then 70 years ago, the main transportation on this road were horses, and horses and buggies. As my mother crossed the road, a horse carrying a buggy was galloping in full swing toward my mother and me in the stroller. Like a miracle, the horse stopped in front of the stroller, raised his front legs and neigh. I looked at the horse pointed my finger and said : HORSE....
Through the years, my mother visited the cobbler, never talking much about it. At one point when I asked her why she has to go to a cobbler, while my father was a shoe maker, she told me he is her adviser,consultant, psychologist, sounding board, teacher.
My mother did not have girlfriends as we know them today, she shied away from gossips, and small talks, today I understand her need to pour her heart.
The old cobbler was a Cohen. A decedent of Aaron the Cohen, the tribe of priesthood. (Moses brother) The Cohanim, together with the tribe of the Levis served in the holy temple. Traditionally, first born sons who is from a family of "plain" Israelite, is to be dedicated to the priesthood. Today, when we don't have a Temple, an Israelite family will redeem their firs born from any Cohen.
When my son Avishay was born, at the age of 30 days, my mother chose the Cobbler to be the redeemer Cohen (priest) The very joyous ceremony called : Pidyon HaBen. (redemption of the son). I remember, seeing the cobbler for the first time that Saturday evening, being carried the two flight of stairs, like a baby, on my brother In law's arm. This was last time I heard about the old man.
Going back to the visit on Shabazi street, in a dingy shop-window, I see a framed photo of an old bearded man with a fine and gentle face, and smiling eyes. On the bottom photo inscribed, "The Cobbler" and the full name of : Rebbi Moshe-Yaakov
son of Yosef the Cohen Rabikov, may he rest in peace.
My heart did not pound as fast and hard as when I saw the picture. When I asked the store owner to buy it, he told me he gives the photo for free, but he is out of them.
I guess he saw my face, when he disappeared into a dark storage place, and within five minute he came out triumphant, saying : I found one.
Only in Israel.
I love you and miss you all. And again I thank all who are caring for Finef my cat, especially my best neighbor Gerry.
Ima, Savta, The Shvig, Estherika, Ludmilla, Me, Esther, eem
