The departure terminal of Kennedy Airport proved to be a dramatic backdrop for the unfolding tale of these new immigrants. Three large screens flanked the flag-draped stage, and we were treated to a slide show replete with breathtaking photographs of the hours before take-off. Entering a cavernous hall that once comprised the entire Ben Gurion Arrivals Building, I found myself taking a precious moment to compose some very bewildering memories and subsequent emotions. and was whisked past the long and jovial queue of registered guests who were still passing through security. Murrow,” I was assured that a press pass and information packet would be waiting for me at the arrival gate. I’d like to cover the arrival of the next planeload of western immigrants.”Īnd as soon as you can say “Edmund R. I called the offices of Nefesh B’Nefesh (Soul to Soul) in Jerusalem and said, “I’m a journalist.
Still determined to celebrate this red-letter day with an activity that would, hopefully, provide perspective and meaning, I was drawn to a posted notice that made all the niggling comments dissipate. The children who still live home with me are a decidedly surly bunch, and when I suggested that, together, we do something special to mark the day, their suggestions included “Give me the car, so I can visit some neat friends I met on a beach up north!” “Go away with your friends, Mom, since they’re also emotional types.” “Give us the house for a party!” and “Don’t you want to get married or something, Mom? You’re sounding kind of lonely.” Last month marked the 15th anniversary of my aliyah to Israel.