My Story 44

I quickly made plans to return to the States, feeling profound disappointment, betrayal and persecution. Sima urged me to book a flight, together with our son, Eli, as soon as possible. Emotionally, I was in a downward spiral. She feared for my well being if I were to remain there one day more than necessary.Eli has always had an uncanny talent for calming people down. However, that very day, Eli received a notice that he must appear for an initial draft interview, as he was seventeen, and would need to enter the army the following year. I quickly called the draft office, and told them that we had plans to visit the States "for two weeks". They said that since the order was for three weeks, as long as I could show a ticket for less than that, he would be allowed to leave. I purchased two round trip tickets, which for reasons beyond my ken, actually cost half the amount of a one way ticket. Sadly, Eli is now considered a deserter by Israeli law. He has been wanting to visit Israel with his wife and kids, but has been told by the Israeli embassy that he will be arrested and put in military prison the moment he steps off the plane. OK, we have the tickets, but where do we go? Yes, I have family with whom I could stay for a night or two. But this will be at least a month, until the community of Island Park, where I had interviewed, decided whether to hire me. It could even prove to be permanent! Into the picture comes Jay. Jay and I had been friends since age twelve. We actually had virtually nothing in common, other than a deep affection for each other. (I have several friends like that). We seem to weave in and out of each other's lives, picking up where we left off, even after several years. I gave Jay a call. "Hi, Jay!" "Hi, Jeffrey!" "I've got a problem". "What's your problem?" "I'm coming back to the States tomorrow, and I have nowhere to stay." "You'll stay with me!" "But I'm coming with my son." "He'll also stay with me!". "The rest of the family will be coming in a week or two." "You"ll all stay with me!" Jay was living in a tiny, one-bedroom apartment, right outside the Orthodox neighborhood known as Boro Park. He had never married. He shared his apartment with a huge African land tortoise. The place was a mess; electronic equipment and manuals lined nearly every inch of the apartment. The bathroom door could not be closed. But it was a welcome refuge!. Jay's neighbors were mostly ultra-Orthodox Jews. He complained unceasingly about "the frummers". I said "but Jay, I'm also a frummer!" "No you're not, You're just a regular guy who made a mistake!" (He would soon discover that his neighbors were more generous than he had ever imagined). Eli's full name is "Eliyahu Chaim", which Jay was unable or unwilling to pronounce. Jay simply called him "Vilde Chaya" (wild animal), which Eli did not appreciate. (Shortly after that, Jay asked me why I didn't give my kids "human names".) Tragically, Jay died of COVID in April 2020, days before his planned retirement. I was happy to be back in Brooklyn, which had been my home for the first twenty-one years of my life. But I couldn't wait for Sima and the remaining kids to come. Two days later...disaster. Sima phoned from Israel. She had been slapped with a court order that she could not leave the country (tzav ikuv). In the wonderful Democracy of Israel, such an order can be executed by anyone, for any reason. (England has an identical law).I honestly feared that I would never see my wife and children again. Our friend, Sheefra Yakir, recommended a lawyer who worked with "strange methods", but got things done. It would cost $5,000, which we no longer had. A cousin of Sima's graciously lent us the money for the lawyer. The order had come Thursday night A court hearing was set for Monday morning. The court order was lifted, and my family could now join me. I told Sima "There is no way of knowing what might happen next. Pack up whatever you and the kids can carry. Come right away. Abandon the rest of our belongings". Unfortunately, she sustained a back injury that plagues her to this day.They arrived the next day. At the airport, I hugged and kissed them...and collapsed onto the floor. The nightmare was at last over. Only one more attempt was made to rob me. The lawyer contacted us a few days later, wanting more money. I explained that I had no more money. He said "you left behind a car, didn't you?" "Yes, but it hardly runs, and is not worth anything." "No matter. I am faxing you a form to sign the car over to me." I agreed. Israeli "legalese" is essentially the Talmudic mixture of Hebrew and Eastern Aramaic, with which I am very familiar. I read the form "Whatever I now own, or will ever own, belongs to the lawyer". I crossed all that out, and wrote in "my Skoda, located in Shoqeda, is henceforth the property of the lawyer". He called me. "What is the meaning of this?!?!" "I read it, and..." "Who told you to read it?! You must do as I say!" I simply refused, but thought to myself that this is the last time I would be given dictatorial orders by Israeli officialdom. This time, however, I was free to refuse. I just get nauseous when I see Israel referred to as a "democracy". (Remember the statement of my police interrogator "Here, democracy means free elections. Nothing more.") Jay mentioned to his neighbors that he had a family of nine Breslover Hasidim living in his apartment. A Satmar neighbor heard this and expressed disbelief. He came to see if it was true. He mobilized the Satmar community in Boro Park to feed and clothe us. Satmar had again come to our rescue. Jay marveled at the willingness of the "Frummers" to give. A new and much better chapter in my life was now beginning. I will continue with my experiences in another two posts, but first I will write a post script to my Israeli experiences.