for mind_the_muse Five family members you love and one you can't stand.
The only decent people in my family are on my mother's side. My mother grew up in World War II Poland, she escaped with her family to England and ended up marrying my father who was in the Royal Air force. Mother's two brothers and sister moved to Israel in 1950 shortly after it was declared a state, and live there still. Only one brother is still alive, Jacobv was the youngest after my mother, he is married and has six children and eighteen grand children.
Of course this is now, ages ago, when I was a little kid we use to visit every summer, my father never went with, but he never complained about it either, and that was something rare, my father bitched about everything. I remember running around the dusty streets with my cousins, playing chase and exploring the excavation sites and some of the old bombed out houses that we weren't suppose to explore but we did anyway. There was always some mystery and beauty about the land, the people and the religion of Judaism.
Even when I was young I remember listening to stories my uncle told about their escape from Europe and how they hoped to make a happy and stable home for themselves in this new land. Of course he also spoke bitterly about the Palestinians and the fighting between the two sects which was just a constant reminder of what they had left back in Europe. Even though he was young then I could see that his eyes were tired and old, it was the same look my mother had. It was almost border lining on nervous, the way they looked around, how they spoke softly as if every word was being over heard.
As a young child I did not understand what they were so afraid of, I had no concept of the Holocaust, or the Palestinian and Israeli conflict. Those were things that I had no business knowing, not the full impact of anyway, I knew the basics, that something bad had happened, and as I grew older I learned the truth and the reason behind the looks of my mother and uncle.
Despite the looks and the lurking danger they saw around every corner, those summers with my mother's family were the happiest I have ever been. There, we felt like a true family, and even though I no longer practice Judaism, apart of me will always belong to Israel and the tribes of Judea. After dad died mum and I spent some time in Israel while I helped consult with the Israeli forces, we both thought about staying there until my coffee gig came along. Still, every year we go back and visit. My uncle gets older, and the world gets a little bit more complicated each trip over, but still we will always have a place there. For my mum, it will be her final resting place, there with her family, where she belongs instead of with my father in London.
The one person in my family I truly despise is my father, and it's not because of his brutality toward me as a youth. It is because he took a beautiful,outgoing, and loving woman and tore her down into a tiny, timid, slip of a woman. Because despite being a complete asshole, a raging alcoholic and bully, my mother still loves him. What a waste.
(590)
Of course this is now, ages ago, when I was a little kid we use to visit every summer, my father never went with, but he never complained about it either, and that was something rare, my father bitched about everything. I remember running around the dusty streets with my cousins, playing chase and exploring the excavation sites and some of the old bombed out houses that we weren't suppose to explore but we did anyway. There was always some mystery and beauty about the land, the people and the religion of Judaism.
Even when I was young I remember listening to stories my uncle told about their escape from Europe and how they hoped to make a happy and stable home for themselves in this new land. Of course he also spoke bitterly about the Palestinians and the fighting between the two sects which was just a constant reminder of what they had left back in Europe. Even though he was young then I could see that his eyes were tired and old, it was the same look my mother had. It was almost border lining on nervous, the way they looked around, how they spoke softly as if every word was being over heard.
As a young child I did not understand what they were so afraid of, I had no concept of the Holocaust, or the Palestinian and Israeli conflict. Those were things that I had no business knowing, not the full impact of anyway, I knew the basics, that something bad had happened, and as I grew older I learned the truth and the reason behind the looks of my mother and uncle.
Despite the looks and the lurking danger they saw around every corner, those summers with my mother's family were the happiest I have ever been. There, we felt like a true family, and even though I no longer practice Judaism, apart of me will always belong to Israel and the tribes of Judea. After dad died mum and I spent some time in Israel while I helped consult with the Israeli forces, we both thought about staying there until my coffee gig came along. Still, every year we go back and visit. My uncle gets older, and the world gets a little bit more complicated each trip over, but still we will always have a place there. For my mum, it will be her final resting place, there with her family, where she belongs instead of with my father in London.
The one person in my family I truly despise is my father, and it's not because of his brutality toward me as a youth. It is because he took a beautiful,outgoing, and loving woman and tore her down into a tiny, timid, slip of a woman. Because despite being a complete asshole, a raging alcoholic and bully, my mother still loves him. What a waste.
(590)