In my last entry I talked about my daughters experience when the wheelchair charger arrived on time at our hotel in Haifa. Once she realized everyone in our group had been worried about me and was thrilled that the problem was resolved, she told me she felt less alone with these problems for the first time in her life.
So all of this leads me to the people:

 It is said that when you put two Israelis together and you have at least three opinions, probably more.  These are people who are not afraid to express their opinions and not afraid to argue about them.  But there is a quality of family in this nation state.  I guess living with existential threat every day certainly helps people feel as one.  In America, we experienced it for about 48 hours after 9/11.  In Israel, they experience it every day since 1946, if not thousands of years before.
When we experienced trauma as individuals, the effects are different than when we experience trauma as community.  When we experience abuse or disability or any other form of trauma, we experience nice ourselves as different from the larger culture.  But when it is a cultural trauma like 9/11 or even World War II, we share something important.  This was the case at that little hotel in Haifa when Debbie and I both felt less alone.  That feeling would only be reinforced throughout the following week.
 
Although I cherish the beauty and the history of Israel, what made this trip special was watching my family.  There was much I couldn't see because of wheelchair access, intense heat, but because I sat back, I was able to see things the others were not.  For example, we visited an ancient synagogue in what looked like a working-class Arab neighborhood.  I sat on the bus with Sam and Pat as they quickly got bored with the synagogue and returned.  In a few minutes a young boy about 10 years old came up to the bus and asked Sam his name.  He said his name was Sultan (pronounced Sool tan) and said to Sam "play football" which is soccer in most of the world? Sam said no, but he would try.  Sultan hollered something I couldn't understand to a friend or relative in an apartment building, but one of the words was football.  In a few minutes and older boy and a few girls appeared and there was my grandson playing soccer in the parking lot with a few Arab kids. I was moved to tears as I was reminded how much our children have to teach us.
 
Sam at the wall:
as many of you know, Sam is on the autism spectrum and has his own way of looking at the world.  Some of his observations are pristine and remarkable, some are just damn cute and some are a combination of both.
  The next day we visited the old city in Jerusalem.  This is the most precious and holy site of the three Abrahamic religions and at the same time, a bustling small metropolis that looks as though it's been unchanged in 2000 years. Debbie was careful to explain to Sam the meaning of the Western Wall as one of the holiest places in the world.  When the time came, I was unable to go as the cobblestones made it almost impossible for me to pass.  Our rabbi, Barry Schwartz already had been building a relationship with Sam so he volunteered to take him to the wall where both of them prayed.
When Sam got back, he gave his mother the full report: "mommy, I know I prayered the right way because I was with the Rabbi.  But when I got done prayering, the Rabbi wasn't so I need shadow puppets on the wall.  And you know what, the sun was perfect for shadow puppets.  And I think I know why, because that is a very special place.  Anyway, when I was done that I touched the wall and one of the notes fell out and I didn't know what to do.  So I quickly picked it up and put it back in the wall and I think it will be okay now because, you know, the five second rule."
And that was Sam's experience praying with my Rabbi at a sacred place.
 
As our time in Israel wound down, we visited the Dead Sea.  This is the lowest place on earth and a body of water that is evaporating rapidly.  It's also a body of water with a salt content of nearly 40%, which makes it impossible to sustain life.  It also makes it impossible to sink!  One of my not so hidden agendas in going to Israel was to float in the Dead Sea with Sam.  It was over 100° that day, but I was determined.  So I slowly navigated my wheelchair over about 200 yards of cobblestones resting under the occasional tree.  By the time I arrived at the city, Sam had already been in there and wasn't very happy about it as he had a rash on his back and the high salt content was painful.
When I got near the shore, three or four of my fellow travelers helped me out of my wheelchair and into a plastic lawn chair and carried me into the water.  The rest of my group slowly circled around as my nurse slid me off the chair and allowed me to float. Many were taking pictures and some were crying as Sam got back in the water just to be with his pop and then both his parents joined us.  As the four of us floated together for the first time in our lives, our group surrounded us and quite spontaneously sang a Hebrew song of joy.  There I was feeling self-conscious, grateful, loved and in love all at the same time.
It everything I dreamed and more.  I fell in love with the land, my fellow travelers, my religion and my family al l over again.