Finding a Home ... and Finding Faith

Today I spent walking around Squirrel Hill where supposedly our new life will be for this upcoming year. Yesterday, I visited the Jewish Community Center, where Ivry will be registered in the early childhood program. Today I visited four apartments -two which were on my unfavorable list. One with a lot of pre-world war two charm (not price), the other - a bit steep but fits the locality like the other.

All this is very good considering for the time being that we are still in Westbeth, NYC. We don't pay rent, or food. We are in a comfort zone. There is no decision yet to be made. But yikes! Here we come. We are slowly getting out of a comfort zone, beginning anew. Again. The thought of it is rather scary.

We like and miss our niches, our quiet, our lifestyles on the kibbutz back home.

Luckily, Squirrel Hill is full of good people, which is one of the reasons why we chose it. A nice rabbi hooked me up with a host family for two nights, who are originally from Mexico and they speak Hebrew!

I spent the first hour crying in front of Ivry's new teacher, in front of the early childhood director, in front of this host family and today again in front of the career development lady. But with her, the tears were smaller.

Today, I spent a good part of the humid day walking around knowing the streets. I know where Barlett street is in relation to Murray street and a few others. That's an accomplishment. I was also able to visit the Jewish Family Services , which helps new immigrants like Haim and me as well, and gives him a push to find a job while helps market him to find a job.

I'm still scared, but not half so much as yesterday. As Elan my brother would say in Hebrew: "Katan Elayich, it's not such a big deal!" For for me, it IS a big deal. But that does not change anything. I'm still scared.

I especially have to shovel out all my fear and muster up faith to know we can succeed and begin again... this time on the other side of the ocean.

And then there is the moment of here and now that says, "yes, I can do it, no problem."

A Collection of Memories

Ever since we’ve arrived in the States (almost a month now) I still haven’t had a proper chance to feel like I’m my mother’s daughter again.Going in and out through parks, seeing oceans, walking past pastures and vineyards are all so much a part of the Southern California experience, but coming home is always so much more meaningful. Trying to build a connection with a lost friend can be memorable. Trying however to relive a maternal connection especially when it’s been affected by Alzheimer’s type dementia is painful and difficult.

In case you didn’t yet make the connection, my mother has Alzheimer’s type dementia. She’s had it since 1997. But I wouldn’t stop ever calling her mom.

I take after my mother; I’m a worrier. As a kid I would prowl the halls waiting for her. If she said “I’ll be home at 10:00 pm" and she wasn’t, I’d go out waiting for her. Tonight, I pushed the panic button when I looked at the dark sky and wondered where are my two boys. I hunted them down alongside the piers right outside my mother's home alongside the Hudson River. I immediately thought of that little girl and I wanted to find a connection. With Alzheimer’s however, there’s always an issue of hit or miss.

I knew my mom would identify with ‘worry scenes’ such as these. It actually made perfect sense to use it as a starting board for conversation.

I’m almost sure it was my voice that did it. Instantly, her face turned towards me. Her jaw dropped slightly, she tried to make eye contact. Her expression softened. She was my mom again just for a few bitter-sweet moments.

I went on to recount to her the story of the last forty minutes of hunting my boys down.There was nothing more comforting than hearing, “yes, that’s too much” or, “ yes, I know what you mean.” Perfect.

Anybody who has an Alzheimer’s type dementia parent, knows the feeling of closeness this scenario can bring to a grieving daughter or son’s heart.

These few years are the collective years of her and my life together. They make the last scrapbook of what stands out as a maternal connection. From one mom to another, this is the best collection that survives all scratch-and-sniff sticker albums I’ve ever had.


After a bit of thought, I decided to send this post to Michele's blog for the Write-Away content. This month's theme is about collections.

Always A New Yorker

As I walked the hallways of Westbeth today, I felt like a New Yorker again. Westbeth isn't exactly like the rest of New York with its cosmetic surgery type buildings. I've waited a long time to hold my son, past the hallways where I used to roam only this time with Claire Bassett, a long time friend and neighbor. The hallways as usual were desolate and poorly lit. With ivry pointing at the colored doors and saying the colors in both Hebrew and English, I was sure the mind was falling; it was too surreal.

Yep, I felt like a twelve year old New Yorker all over again. Well, maybe fifteen or so.

I know that Claire felt that way again. She said, "Dorit, I can't believe you're a mom. I look at you and I see a fifteen year old."

In a way, she is definitely right. The seventeen years of living in Israel are as rural as they come and it's not my birthplace. My mom and dad of America is New York. And I'm starting all over again. but this time, I left my suitcase of ideologies somewhere else and the fifteen year old NYC girl has her night out instead of cleaning poopy diapers and reading bedtime stories to Ivry.

This year I am not committed to any lifestyle or identity. But I and Claire have grown to appreciate the dimensions of the walls and apartment sizes, windows, directions of apartments, people we both knew growing up and people whom we stayed away from, all in the heart of Greenwich Village. This is where it all began. Pulling each other on skateboards, playing catch and disturbing the neighbors, me a bespectacled teenager, and Claire, a intuitive forever questioning teenager. We mold our likeness as we learn all the nuances that made us 'tick' as kids. I believe that is part of becoming full circle.

Bargain Time in San Diego

Carousel Time in SeaVillage





Ivry's cousin Samatha

Yea, I'm with my Uncle Elan! Yea, I'm a Doctor now!

Waiting for the Amtrack to take us

Well, we finally made it to our final California destination before we board for New York City.

Uncle Elan can relax from a few day's work enjoying his nephew. It's been two years since we all met and it's especially poignant when we're all together eating a Shabbat meal on Elan's dining room table in his lovely San Diego apartment with his roommate and girlfriend. All the pieces are coming together. We're learning the pieces of his life as he learns about ours and the brother-sister becomes timeless once again. Over Haim's wonderfully savory meatballs, we feel the love and find a connection.

Saturday's morning walk proved to be our lucky day. Haim came back after a brief walk with Ivry and said, "there's a sale outside.'' We could hardly believe our eyes: old printers, furniture, books, toys, brick-a-brack items. We came back with a small carton of card games for Ivry (good choices for killing airport time), a few three-quarter sleeve shirts for Haim that looked brand new, a brand new sippy cup for Ivry, a Fisher Price animal crackers game, a picture frame and guess what for moi? Books, of course! I quickly found two delectable novels and two resource books. I was so happy. I had finished Nadine's Gordimer's Get a Life in the first few days of our trip, and desperately needed more pleasant reading material.

We unexpectedly did not realize it was fifteen minutes to closing time and the chorus of "Everything for Free. Take whatever you want!" had begun. It's amazing how people suddenly turn into wild octopuses. People were grabbing anything they could get their hands on and loading them on cars. It was really funny. the church goers organizing the yard sale, were so nice and affable. Really sweet folks.

While I of course couldn't help but wonder how we would manage fitting all this in one suitcase, Haim nonchalantly handed the box to Elan. It was a brilliant morning.

Later that night when we finally made it [out of the house after a refreshing and much needed Saturday afternoon nap] from San Diego's downtown SeaVillage, I realized that we received our small gifts not by chance. We have worked hard to get to this point getting Haim's papers and my sabbatical organized and 'kosher' as well as our house ready for renting, shipping our stuff, selling our car and many other things. It's a huge move.

We have given more than half our belongings away to the Philippine workers on the kibbutz and other neighbors. And now at the give-away, it's amazing the love one can feel from a complete stranger when you relinquish your belongings and step out of your shell. It's the beginning to harboring change.

I'm beginning to feel less frightful of this process of change. Now we're living it. You just gotta love it.

Plans for Today are:

1. Bilboa Park including performances and activities for Ivry. More pictures to come. Happy Sunday!

Viva La Fiesta!

This California dreamin' is just one big fiesta. Ivry and his parents of course, indulged watching Spanish costumes and beautifully decorated horses. We love Aunt Judy's company.

The butterfly exhibition was a blast. We topped it off today with a landshark cruise around Santa Barbara which took us on sea and back on land. Santa Barbara has such beautiful charm. We're so glad we came.