Prime perspectives on adopting a new country

 

37 years ago, on the date I am writing this post, I made aliyah, immigrated, to Israel. The actual day was not as eventful as D-Day, which also occurred on the same date, albeit some 54 years previously, but has had a huge impact on my life. I came to Israel and have made it my home, notwithstanding 5+ wars, because my decision was carefully calculated, both rationally and emotionally. I have paid a price in terms of becoming an alien to one degree or another. However, looking back, it was the best road taken.

Every immigrant’s story is personal and unique. In my case, moving to Israel was the search for a place that felt permanent. I had spent most of my adult life moving from city to city, apartment to apartment and job to job. I enjoyed Oregon and still appreciate its pace and beauty. However, it never felt like home despite the friends and lifestyle. Facing another period of unemployment, I chose to join the yearlong “Sherut La’am” [Service to the People] program in which I taught English at a high school in Ashkelon, in southern Israel. We lived in and taught students from the “wrong side of the tracks”. Many of my neighbors had no books in their houses. Even worse, one neighbor was a drug dealer while there was a local “working lady” below in the square. We received housing and a small stipend. I was contented for the first time despite the less-than-glamorous reality around me. I returned to the States for a year and then formally decided to immigrate to Israel. My father asked me: “Are you going to or running from”. The answer was clear and correct. I was going to. I ended up in Karmiel, in the North, where I still live today. I have never looked back.

My successful transition to living in Israel, far from obvious, derives from my decision to embrace the whole experience, positive and negative, to the best of my ability. I insisted on speaking Hebrew and actually avoided the Anglo-Saxon community. I married an Israeli and raised my child in Hebrew, watching all her videos and reading her books in Hebrew, mistakes and all. My second wife is also Israeli. I have tried to understand and selectively adopt Israeli social mores or at least anticipate them. As they used to say, I went native. I did not become fully Israeli nor will I ever be. I arrived too late in my life and did not serve in the army. Furthermore, it is impossible to erase almost 30 years of education, formal and informal. Yet, I am much as part of Israel as I can be.

Of course, there was a high price to pay: becoming a permanent alien. I do not speak nor in particular write Hebrew as a native language. I miss small subtleties in conversation and make stupid errors, particularly with gender forms in verbs. Culturally, I have learned to expect certain behaviors but cannot or choose not to adopt them. They are not my style. Not having grown up here, I don’t have friends from childhood or the army and lack the “bande”, as my mother would say, the group of people that have known you since you were small. For the same reason, I lack the shared experience of high school, the army or university studies. My growing-up period was in a different country. On a deeper level, I also stopped being an American. The America I grew up in has long disappeared. I felt the divide even while I was still frequently traveling to the States to see my parents. I can live in three countries (the United States, Israel and France) without belonging 100% to any of them. That loss of clear identity is a heavy price.

Yet, as Edith Piaf said, Je ne regrette rien – I regret nothing. Even before the current ugly wave of antisemitism in the United States and Europe, Israel was my home. It is an imperfect place, I would agree, but native born Israelis are equally, if not more, critical than I am. I am always happy to return to my country, wars, missiles, and political chaos included. Ultimately, without fully being aware of it, Israel is my home because I am Jewish here without apology and adjustment. I do not have to prove my Jewishness by being religious or politically active nor do I have to push back against my neighbors that are actively or passively antisemitic. To highjack Jacques Prévert, je suis comme je me suis; je me suis fait comme ça, or, in English, I am what I am; I made myself that. I have become Israeli in my own way, just as hundreds of thousands of immigrants have done before me and after me. Even more importantly, home is where you feel internal peace. I have always felt at home in Israel, from my first day here. I do not wish to live anywhere else. Thus, on this 37th, a prime number by chance, anniversary of my Aliyah, I have attained my goal and am content. That feeling is the ultimate success.