It was their first summer in Eretz Yisrael. Like many other
things, this summer sprang some interesting surprises, some
of them pleasant, some of them less. Among the less bearable
surprises was, for example, the sharav, the Israeli
heat wave. The temperatures never climbed so high in Russia.
"Drink, children, drink!" Valentina said over and again.
"You've got to drink all day long!" The constant dryness in
her mouth bothered her, and the beads of perspiration which
dripped from her and the others were an even greater
discomfort.
Michael was especially sensitive to odors and had always
been. Summer was a most difficult experience for him. "I
find it impossible to walk in the street or ride a bus," he
complained. "The aggregate smell of perspiration is
disgusting to me."
"There's no choice. You'll just have to get used to it,"
said Valentina for the millionth time since they had arrived
in the country. "Remember that in Russia you couldn't stand
the smell of wool," she reminded him. He smiled. The very
thought of wool caused him to perspire and feel uneasy, and
his perspiration again reminded him of the totally
unpleasant odor of sweat in public places, and he found
himself at the very starting point of the conversation...
Among the pleasant things was the subject of water. The
cool, delicious impact with the sea or the swimming pool was
an experience they had not known in Russia. Yonatan, for his
part, was not especially enthusiastic about swimming, but
Olga dived into the water freely, thrilled. She took a
course and progressed at a rapid pace. "It was marvelous,
fantastic, simply wonderful!" she declared each time she
returned from the pool. "Summer in Eretz Yisrael is
great!"
The long summer vacation was also a novelty for them. The
summer vacation in Russia is much shorter. Valentina thought
that the children needed this long break. They had exerted
themselves to the utmost the whole year, both with regards
to the language, socially and in all the other aspects of
acclimatization for new immigrants. The time had now come to
relax, ease off tensions and let go.
One evening, Valentina met an Israeli acquaintance of hers,
Bracha Katz. Valentina noted immediately how bad she looked.
She was pale, her eyes sunken, and an air of sadness or
suffering had settled upon her in a very obvious manner.
"Why don't you come up to me for a bit," she begged
Valentina. Valentina agreed, hoping she might be able to
hear what was disturbing her so, and perhaps help in some
way.
Bracha prepared two cups of coffee and sliced some cake.
"Where are your daughters?" Valentina suddenly asked.
"They're in a `kemp' in Haifa," replied Bracha.
"`Kemp'? What's that?"
"It's an English word. How come you're not familiar with
it?" Bracha wondered.
"Oh, I do understand English! I thought you were using the
word in Hebrew and that it had a different connotation.
There are all different kinds of camps, you know, so why
didn't you simply use the Hebrew word machane? Isn't
it the same thing?"
Bracha thought for a moment or two. "Listen, there are some
words that are really the same thing in translation, yet,
have another meaning. My daughters were not happy enough
with the day camp the school ran. They wanted to go to a
sleep-away camp. It's more exciting, much more of an
experience. And, to be sure, so much more expensive."
Valentina was curious to hear more about the differences in
activities, attractions and also, the variation in price.
They talked about the summer, vacation and recreation. Now
it became perfectly clear why Bracha looked so depressed.
"We really can't afford it," she said over and over. "I took
on some extra work this summer and my husband accepted a
private student during his only free hour between the two
kollelim he attends. And with it all, we won't be
able to cover this dreadful expense."
"I can't begin to understand why you're trying to, to begin
with," Valentina asked with utter simplicity.
"What can we do? Miriami's two best friends went to camp and
she is not ready to give it up. And if Miriami goes, of
course Dinale also has to go. And if the two girls go away
to camp, the boys insist on going away as well to a special
camp in the Galilee mountains. And that's not all of it.
Besides the camp, before and after, there are expensive
tiyulim, computer courses, entertainment, the pool
and the ocean, performances to attend and so on. In short: a
family like ours has to win a lottery in order to survive
the summer. No exaggeration!" Bracha sighed.
"To tell you the truth, I don't understand what you're
telling me. Every person has got to live according to his
means. What you can't afford, you don't do. What difference
does it make what Miriami's friends do? Whose paying for her
camp, anyway -- they or you? My children told me about the
school day camps, not about the machane, or camp, as
you call it. And I said: `Sorry, kids. We have no money.'
And that was the end of that."
"That's what you told them?"
"Yes, of course. What's wrong with it? Is it a disgrace not
to have money?"
"No. It's no disgrace. But it never even occurred to me to
include the children in our juggling of the family budget,"
answered Bracha.
"You needn't calculate your expense account together with
them with detailed facts and figures. But if you're lacking
money for something they want, what is more normal than
telling them this truth? Look at the vicious cycle you've
gotten yourself into. And for what? For the rest of their
lives, they will have to learn to live within the limits of
their means and possibilities, not according to other
people's. There will always be people above them on the
financial ladder, people who have more than they. What if
Miriami's friend and her family decided to travel abroad?
Would you let her go abroad as well?"
"No," Bracha answered quickly.
"So in any event, you'd have to stop the carousel at some
point. So why not stop it at the most natural one -- the
point where the money ends. You can go on outings in this
area that will hardly cost you a grush. They can stay
home and play games and occasionally go to the sea and the
pool. They can cook up all kinds of interesting meals. There
are lots and lots of nice things to keep them busy. And you
know what? They can also get bored a little and it wouldn't
be the end of the world! But you can't live beyond your
means. That's a real tragedy."
Bracha listened thoughtfully. "Valentina, you want to hear
something interesting? Your advice is absolutely simple and
normal. But no one thought of telling us that yet!"
"Maybe it's because we're not yet used to this leisure
society, this vacation culture. Perhaps it's because
everything in this country is so new and exciting that we
don't think big. It might also be that my children,
boruch Hashem, are very easy going and receptive.
Or... I don't really know myself what else..." she
smiled.
"Maybe it's because you're Valentina," said Bracha, "and I
truly thank you. You have no idea how much you've helped me.
I hope that from now on it will be different."
*
Interesting, but the person who was left most taken up with
her thoughts was Valentina. She couldn't, simply couldn't
understand what motivated a woman like Bracha to become so
driven by the desires of her children, or more accurately,
her children's friends, when she did not have the financial
means to afford them. Who said you had to keep up with the
Cohens?
I am glad that Valentina did not meet me when she came home
from her visit to Bracha, for, believe me, I wouldn't have
known how to explain the nature of that `sickness' to her,
except to describe to her how terribly contagious it
was...
