After whirlwind visit to Israel, let’s break bread

As I finished my last article, I was about to board a plane to Israel for a quick trip and return home two days before Pesach, a whirlwind five days in Israel with my husband Jerry’s son and family in Efrat and daughter and family in Rechavya. We were also able to squeeze in the wedding of our close friend’s daughter in Ceasarria.

We made it to he airport in plenty of time — there was no chance of being late — driven by our good friend David Weber. I think we beat the pilot there by two hours. Check-in was a breeze. There were the usual questions about our bags — who packed them, did anyone give us anything, are we bringing anything to anyone else. I was tempted to say, “OK, now my turn: Is your pilot depressed? Is your co-pilot depressed?” I thought better than to crack a joke — El Al agents aren’t the type to appreciate humor — so I answered honestly until the “Are you bringing anything” question.

Would they realize one entire oversized suitcase was for the grandchildren? Dozens of robot animal things that turn into transformers and balls that transform into G-d knows what. Then, there were the hardcover books that weighed ten pounds. I could say they were for me to read while I was there (what, like I wouldn’t read all those atlases?). The 15 pounds of kids’ clothing was lost among the toys, but the freezer part for my nephew and some sharp metal objects got me a tad nervous. As luck would have it though, Jerry, who I always instruct to say as little as possible, decided that when the agent asked were it his children we were visiting in Israel, he felt the need to tell him where the other two children lived in the U.S. Suddenly the agent ended questions about the luggage. Home free … as soon as the bags were weighed. Ahhhhhh…