14. And Finally… Independence Day
I received my degree in the fall of 1988. I will remember this moment as one of the happiest of my life. During the months leading up to my immigration date, absolutely nothing could anger or irritate me. I was about to return home, and I was simply elated.
One of the obstacles to becoming an expat is the reaction of one’s family. Imagine, for example, the guilt over leaving behind aging parents (who express no desire to accompany you on your adventure). Here, I must credit my mom and pop, who thankfully never wavered from their “it’s your life” policy. My brother, Chuck, was extremely supportive.
At work, our Israeli-born CEO sent me off with kind words of encouragement. At Aliyah Movement meetings, I got lots of high-fives.
I was pleased to learn that a room had been reserved for me at the Tel-Aviv immigrant’s hostel, where I would live for eight months.
My path back to Israel was long and difficult, but the lengthy wait had strengthened my determination to return and succeed. I hugged my parents at the airport, shed a hasty tear, and as I boarded the El-Al flight, I made three important promises to myself:
· I will fortify myself with an abundance of patience.
· I won’t try to teach Israelis how to behave (even when the need seems evident).
· On occasion, I will be exposed as a “fryer” (figuratively speaking, taken for a “sucker”)… and that’s OK.
And I have more-or-less abided by these promises during my many years here.
