My trip, part I
Dramatic irony. I learned that term in ninth-grade English class. It was probably in regard to something Shakespearean. My 2024 version of dramatic irony is the following scenario — driving by a pro-Palestinian demonstration in front of the Teaneck library as Husband #1 drives me to the airport to fly to Israel to meet Danish’s sister. I believe that is the true definition. Unless any of you can come up with a better one.
As I am not even on the plane yet, and I cannot predict the future, I have no idea how this trip is going to go. I do know that I came to the airport with two pieces of luggage; one regular size suitcase, and one 41-inch-long duffle that is playing home to half of a double stroller that I am transporting for my favorite Israeli couple.
I was only nervous that the duffle would be too big and they would make me ship it or something far-fetched like that, and, again, since I cannot predict the future, I am hoping that it arrives safe and sound in the Holy Land. But I can say that thanks to my favorite brother, I was able to check both bags without a problem. Thank God.
Fast forward to a few days later, and I am sitting in my favorite Israeli couple’s apartment. Danish is taking a nap, and her sister is out with her mother and her other grandmother. Yes, thank God, DIL #2 has her mother and her mother-in-law in Israel at the same time. That is how it worked out.
DIL #2 is basically a saint. Yesterday, I sat with her for several hours in their apartment. When you have kids who live in Israel, it is quality, not quantity.
I am an enigma to the children who live in their building. Who is this woman with the backpack who doesn’t cover her hair? Why is she carrying that baby? What is she doing here?
The other day, I met a gaggle of young mothers while we were at the park. Some were from Lakewood, some were from Brooklyn, but they probably all were thinking, “Oy, that poor girl has her mother-in-law here for the month.” Good times.
In any event, we are going to switch topics again. I leave the country, and Richard Simmons and Dr. Ruth leave this earth. I am sure that many comedians are going to come up with very funny routines about the two of them, none of which would be appropriate for my column. But I have got to say, both of those humans did wonderful things for this world. I still have the Richard Simmons record — yes, an actual vinyl record that my grandmother probably paid for when she took me to a record store. I would exercise to that record. I never knew if I was doing what I was supposed to be doing because it was a record, not a video, but Richard Simmons was surprisingly motivating.
And what kid who was a teenager in the ’80s doesn’t remember Dr. Ruth’s radio show? Of course, none of us were allowed to listen to it, but I still remember watching skits on Saturday Night Live that were parodies of Dr. Ruth.
Since DIL #2 hadn’t heard of either of these people, I was giving her a history lesson in pop culture. I was trying to explain to her what Richard Simmons’ “Deal a Meal” was and why people loved him, but how sad his personal life was.
And then there is Dr. Ruth — a hidden child of the Holocaust, a survivor in every sense of the word. And, at 4 foot 7 inches tall, she served in the Haganah during Israel’s War of Independence.
And this is how I bring this column full circle.
My children and millions of others are reaping the rewards of what Dr. Ruth and so many others fought for. And now, all these years later, I have friends who have children who are continuing to defend and protect this little country with a very big heart.
I cried when my plane landed, I cried walking through the airport when I saw the pictures of the hostages with messages written on them from family and friends, I cried erev Shabbos hearing the “10 minutes until Shabbos Kodesh” announcement. So many different types of tears.
God should watch over all of us.
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck watched Husband #1 put his dinner in the warming drawer over FaceTime. It was very exciting for both of them. She is also very much enjoying the Coke Lemon Zero that can be found only in Israel (as far as she knows…).
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