It is the middle of nineties or somewhere close to it, but I am not really sure. I back in Israel holding up the wall in a bar in Jerusalem. Or maybe the wall is holding me, I am not really all that sure.
Hell you could tell me it is 1980 something or other and I would believe you. I have been here for hours and I am not quite sure whether I am thinking in English or Hebrew. My best guess is that I am speaking English, after all it is my first language and when you are drunk you tend to use what you first learned.
I have been back in the holy land for more than a short while but not quite long enough to make it my official home. Except the thing is that it will always be home. Jerusalem stole a piece of my heart long ago and has never let go of it.
Been here long enough to have been told that my buddy’s couch isn’t my permanent home. That is ok with me, I never wanted it to be that. I just want to figure out what the hell I am going to do with myself. All of the plans that I had have been thrown up in the air and I can’t figure out which way to turn.
It is not because I am drunk nor is it because I am lost. It is just the situation I am in. Don’t care if that makes sense or not. That is the beauty of being twenty-something. No wife, no kids, no mortgage, no motorboat, not a single luxury, just like Robinson Crusoe, as primitive as can be. Thank you Sherwood Schwartz for creating Gilligan’s Island.
Ok, maybe I am drunker than I thought I was. Why else would I sit here talking to myself, singing silly theme songs from shows that are shown 10,000 miles away.
When I left the states I was dating a green eyed blonde. She had these long legs she would wrap around me and she would do this thing…. But the timing was bad between us. She wasn’t sure what to do about us and I was footloose and fancy free.
Don’t know if I really knew what I wanted anyway. We had a real connection and a great sex life but Ann was/is in the back of my mind.
Course it was Ann who decided to cut me loose. Didn’t matter that she said I was the love of her life or that I was her best friend. She made the decision to let me go and off I went.
It wasn’t an accident that led me back to Jerusalem. Like I said it has always felt like home and that piece of my heart it kept is still here. Some of my friends are worried about me making aliyah and joining the army. They told me that they worry I’ll get killed in a war. I told them that I could get shot at an ATM or hit by a bus.
There are some things in life that we have to do and this might be one of them. I thank them for their concern and tell them to come visit me. It is funny a short time ago the bar was packed and I was sitting with a group of six or seven people. I am the only American among the bunch. The girl from Joburg wants to know why I am wearing my baseball cap backwards. Her friends nod their heads and ask me to answer.
I look at them and say that I love their accents. One is from Scotland and the other from London. There is a guy from Buenos Aires sitting with us too. I haven’t figured out yet if he speaks English but I suspect he does. Up until now he only uses Spanish and Hebrew but I have a feeling he is playing possum.
One of the girls reaches over and turns my hat around but I spin it back. “I like it better when it is backwards. I don’t know why, I just do.” She giggles and says that American men are funny, reminds me that I am the one with the accent.
I suppose that it is sort of true, at this table I am the one who speaks English differently than most. I could argue that the woman from Joburg doesn’t speak it properly or suggest she say something in Afrikaans but instead I mumble something about having relatives in Cape Town. I scrunch up my face because I realize that my head isn’t working properly.
I mutter something about needing the head, the loo and the water closet. It is supposed to be clever but I realize that it is not. So I get up and say goodbye because I am not yet so drunk that I don’t realize I am making a fool of myself.
******
The ride from Ben Gurion airport into Jerusalem has been relatively uneventful. Given the way people drive around here that is saying something. Spent the first 30 minutes lost in thought about that trip from so many years before.
I am here now for my cousin’s wedding. The timing was bad so I left the kids back in the states and flew out by myself. It feels surreal. The last time I was here I was married and now I am not.
For the first time in decades I am back in Israel as an eligible bachelor. I am not really looking for anyone but in theory wouldn’t be against having some company. I am not really looking for it but I haven’t been single for all that long. It is long enough that I am not a complete rookie on the dating scene but not so long that I don’t feel a bit like a kid in the candy store.
It is part of why I turned down the offer from family and friends to stay with them. I want to have more autonomy and I don’t need the comments from well meaning people whose morality might be offended.
When I told Harold about the trip he feigned irritation and reminded me several times about my deadline. I laughed and told him that the internet exists in Israel and that as long as I fed the camel I would have enough power to email him. Just before I got on the plane I received the following text message.
“Do me a favor and don’t get blown up.”
I quickly texted back, “I’ll send you back your very own suicide bomber. Just remember not to squeeze his nuts too hard.”
Sometimes Harold can be really slow. “Jack, that really isn’t funny. You need to think about what you say.”
I almost texted him back but decided that it would be more fun to let him stew. He knows from experience that I rarely let him get the last word in so I am willing to bet that he has spent the past 18 hours wondering what I have planned.
As for that the answer is nothing. I am going to check into my hotel and take a walk into the Old City to see if my favorite falafel stand is still around. I certainly am not going to check my phone or my email.
******
The bartender tells me that he has to close and wants to know if I need help getting home. I say no but I accept his help standing up. I am a little wobbly but I make it out the door and head down the road towards the apartment.
I look up at the full moon and smile. I used to tell Ann to remember a few things. “When you think of me I am thinking of you. And remember that the moon will always connect us. If you miss me go outside and stare at it and know that somewhere out there I am doing the same thing.
