Passage to India

This story actually begins in April of 2009. Our charismatic grandson, Daniel, was speaking at his bar mitzvah celebration. He spent time thanking his parents and his other grandparents and then he came to us- (we had been working as tour managers to exotic places since 2006) and said that in case we were interested, he would be available to travel at the end of June…

That small, humorous comment set off a firecracker inside of me because thank G-d, my grandchildren are not in need of any additional material objects. All of them are living in homes where everything they need and practically all of what they want are provided. Here was a way that we could gift the grandchildren with something that they will experience and remember. Including one trip I took to China with a granddaughter who had asked me numerous times to pack her in my suitcase, we have taken 22 of our grandchildren on tours ranging from a tour around Northern Israel, to a short Mediterranean cruise, to tours to Barcelona, Amsterdam, Venice, Ecuador, and India. This summer, having had our plans for 2020 and 2021 ruined by Covid, we had decided to do two tours- the two boys to India and the two girls to Ecuador (both being the second time for these locations).

We were to take off for India on Sunday, July 3- coincidently, our 56th wedding anniversary. It had been weeks that we were planning this tour, anticipating it, getting whatever we needed ready: making sure that passports were good for long enough, getting our Covid vaccination certificates, sending photos of our passports to the tour operator, applying for our visas (receiving them and printing them), going over the itinerary, etc. Finally the day of the tour arrived. We  had a picture of all of us taken as we were leaving the house.

We left in a large van and arrived at the airport. We all were very excited. We had been waiting for this day for a very long time. We went through the initial security and finally we got to the check-in desk.  All of my papers were organized. They asked for passports- check! vaccination records- check! visas- check! But no, my visa was not good. It was in fact dated about 3 years ago. I couldn’t believe it. I had applied at the proper web site for an E-visa.  I filled everything out. I paid the money, I got a confirmation, and then it arrived. I thought it odd that it arrived almost by return mail and that the photo was an old photo, but I didn’t think to look at the effective date. It had expired years ago.  The same happened with my husband’s visa. “What can I do?” I asked. They told me, “Go home and apply for another visa.” Apparently someone had hacked the site and finding an old visa of ours, he was able to send it to me and take the money I had spent for the visa. The same thing happened to my husband.  We had no choice. We had to go home. They would not let us on the plane- and even if they had, the authorities in India would have sent us home.

There were only 2 flights a week from Ben Gurion to Delhi and so we had to decide should we try for Wednesday night or the next Sunday. We opted for the following Sunday so as to not need to form a whole new itinerary.

But this got mega-confusing because we had to apply for new visas, but who was to say the same thing wouldn’t happen. In the end, we were advised to use our US passports since we had not received any past visas as US citizens. We also had to change the hotel reservations (our Indian travel agency was successful at getting all of the hotels to change the reservations with no additional payment), we had to change the internal flights (which was an expensive proposition), we had to change the insurance (which our son-in-law was able to do with no additional cost), and worst of all, we had to change our flight tickets round-trip between Israel and Delhi.

One of our sons did that successfully reducing the outrageous amount they tried to charge us. It still was not cheap, but it was better than what it could have been.

And then the wait began. We didn’t receive out new visas until Thursday. But even then I was worried. I imagined something would go wrong.

Finally Sunday arrived.

and happily, everything went well.  Despite the immigration agent in Delhi being unclear: “put your four?fore/fingers on the screen for prints. No, no! Your fore?four/fingers.”  This went on for about 6 or 7 times until we understood what he wanted. It was the forefinger of each hand.

Finally we emerged, saw our good friends, Boby and Nitesh, and received garlands of marigolds in greeting. Later we visited the city monuments in beautiful New Delhi.

 

The next day we were off to Agra to visit the impressive red sandstone Agra fort. From there one can in the distance, see the Taj Mahal.

Needless to say, this was a very special day. Because of the monsoon rains (more about that later) and two years of Covid, a bright and sunny afternoon brought out hundreds of Indian tourists. Having been to the Taj Mahal somewhere between 12 and 15 times, I have never seen such large crowds!

After some time in Delhi including a rickshaw ride in Old Delhi, we made our way to Dharamshala, home to a very large Tibetan community, and, of course, the Dalai Lama. One of the most impressive places to visit there is the Tibetan Children’s Village. This is a residential school for children aged 3 through high school- well organized, well run. They serve about 1500 children. The children are taught Tibetan culture, but also responsibility. On a previous tour we were spellbound watching 4 and 5 year olds spontaneously helping each other with their math exercises. They also sang for us a couple of children’s songs in English. Their dwellings are clean and their time for learning and recreation is well defined. Some of the children come from the local area, but they also have students from as far away as the US. It is not just to help these children, but also to preserve the culture- by learning the Tibetan language and customs. Spending time there is exhilarating. There is just so much love and kindness.

Another beautiful place we went in Dharamshala was the Norbulingka Institute. This is a place where Tibetans are taught the ancient arts like woodcarving, metal work,  and painting.  They also have a great display of dolls depicting Tibetan culture.

We also visited the Golden Temple in Amritsar which was also more packed than I had ever seen it!!  I can write more and post photos about both the institute and the Golden Temple as well as the daily ceremony at the India/Pakistan border if anyone is interested.

When we reached Rishikesh, we were able to have two very interesting experiences. One was meeting an elephant in her jungle- just we, our guide, the boys, and the gentleman entrusted with her care. I cannot begin to tell you how much all of us enjoyed this meeting with Rada. She was so friendly and cooperative and we really felt as if she was communicating with us. We must have been there between 30 and 45 minutes and we enjoyed the entire visit.

We happened to be in Rishikesh at the same time as a religious festival for the Hindus- during which they travel from near and far- walking miles and miles to come to the banks of the Ganges in the city of Haridwar. There they pray and bathe in the holy waters. It is a pilgrimage festival and this year they are expecting 18 million people to visit Haridwar during the festival. In addition to hundreds of people adorned in all sorts of costumes there are huge trucks carrying tens of people and playing ear-splitting music. The roads are often closed to regular traffic and the monsoon rains did not help. We were to leave Rishikesh and drive about 5 hours to catch our plane in Delhi. We left at 6 a.m.  We drove through rain that was heavy, heavier, and impossible to see through. Often there were motorcycles that were barely visible in the heavy rain. Also, in addition to the closed roads, they are in the process of building new roads and so we traveled over hard-packed mud and gravel. In addition, it was so hot outside and so damp, that our driver was forced to use maximum air conditioning. With all of the rain and people, there were many detours and our experienced driver himself had no idea which way to go and at least once drove a length of road in the wrong direction. There was no time to stop, and as time to check in to the flight approached and we still were far from Delhi, I began to believe that we would not get to the airport in time to catch our flight.

Fortunately, our tour provider, Boby, and his amazing assistant, Nitesh, were on top of things. We had been planning to show up at the airport in good time to make our 3:40 pm flight, but it soon became clear to all of us, that wasn’t going to happen. A few minutes later, we were informed that the flight had been delayed until 5:15. We all felt a bit better, but when we finally entered Delhi, our high hopes began to fade. The monsoon had flooded all of the streets and we were in a virtual parking lot.  We must have remained in one place for close to 1/2 hour. Meanwhile, our tour provider had called the airline and explained that we had left at 6:00 am and were still in transit, stuck in a very wet traffic jam.

He then messaged me NOT to wait in line, but to proceed directly to the business class desk. They are waiting for us. India is unlike other countries in the practice of security, They are very careful- so entry to the terminal is only after presenting a ticket and a passport- and there are usually long lines waiting to get in. We arrived shortly after 4 for a 5:15 flight. I was pretty desperate. I didn’t want to miss the flight. I also was a bit stir crazy from the tension of riding in a car going though a monsoon for 10 hours. I barreled up to the front of the line, told my sad story and fortunately the guard at the door let us jump the line. He did, however, insist on seeing all of our paperwork and was very careful to identify both of the boys as well as us. Once inside we asked where the Air India counter was and were misdirected away from the actual counter. At this point I felt as if we were contestants on “The Amazing Race” because I wasn’t sure whether the person who told us where it was the second time was telling the truth or even knew and time was running out. Fortunately he did. We arrived at the desk at 4:14 for a 5:15 flight. Once again, security was tight and this time we had to show our vaccination certificates and they had to match the tickets and the passports and since my husband and I each had 2 passports (we bought the airline tickets with our Israeli passports and applied for visas with our US passports) everyone got confused.

Finished there, they assigned a young man to run with us through passport control and security and then to lead us to the departure gate. When we finally arrived at the departure area, people were sitting quietly and waiting. We were elated. We were on our way home.

And yes, we got home safely – the mothers were there to greet their sons and us.  We have a greater appreciation for the two wonderful boys who were with us and their patience and sweet manners. We have always been grateful for them, but now, especially.

Travels with my grandchildren

My husband and I travel a lot as tour managers, mostly to exotic places, but it is a different kind of tour that I want to tell you about…

When we first started traveling, our tours were almost exclusively to China. By the second trip, our oldest granddaughter started asking me if I could pack her in my suitcase and take her with me. Imagine her surprise when in 2007, a year before the Olympics in Beijing, there was a tour that was ridiculously inexpensive, and I decided to take her along.

We were fortunate that on the tour were several other girls in her generation- one a year younger and the others a couple of years older.

We spent 11 fun-filled days in Beijing. We learned together, laughed together, and had all sorts of adventures. It was a trip of a lifetime for me (and maybe for her…)

A couple of years later, a grandson mentioned in his Bar Mitzvah speech that he liked the fact we traveled all over and, by the way, he was available at the end of June. He planted a seed in our heads and we couldn’t ignore it. What about taking him somewhere? At that time there was a kosher cruise company with reliable kashrut supervision and so we took him, his brother, a boy cousin, the cousin’s twin sister, and two other girl cousins on a short cruise on the Mediterranean. I shared a room with the 3 girls and my husband shared a room with the 3 boys. We traveled to Turkey, Greece, and Cyprus. Both we and the children had a great time. The children enjoyed being with their cousins and discovering new places. They loved bargaining in local shops and realized that one of the boys was an expert bargainer and he became spokesman for all of them. They climbed on statues, took photos, shopped and laughed the entire time.

One grandson did not have a passport when it was his turn, so my husband took him on a tour through northern Israel while I was away on a group tour.

Well, now that we had established the practice of taking the children on tours after Bar and Bat Mitzvah, we took two boys, brothers, to Barcelona; three girls, cousins, to Amsterdam; three girls, cousins, to Venice; two boys, cousins, to Ecuador and the Galapagos Islands; and two boys, cousins, to India.

All of these tours had one thing in common- we got to spend real quality time with our grandchildren. We enjoyed traveling with them, watching them learn and experience new things, and just listening to them and learning who they were in an atmosphere of zero pressure. When else could I learn of random thoughts and ideas or hear stories that lasted an hour or more? But as we walked along a shoreline or across a desert island or through a mountain village, there was plenty of time and no interruptions.

After each trip we make a photo book for the travelers that will help cement the experience. I would say that these experiences are wonderful for the children and surely they enjoy them and talk about them, they connect on a new level with their cousins, and the tours give us a common frame of reference, but the most important aspect of it for me is to really get to know and appreciate these precious grandchildren. If you’re a grandparent, treat the grandchildren; you’ll end up treating yourself!

I’m going to the Temple Mount and I’m bringing…

Twenty years ago, exactly, my husband and I had our חנוכת הבית, the dedication of our new home in Israel. At that time, we realized that we ourselves were not fully responsible for the achievement of this dream nor should we claim it as our own. Generations before us longed to return to Zion. In their modest dwellings a vision of returning to the land gave their lives meaning and hope. We recognized that despite the hardships and dangers, our ancestors literally kept the faith and transmitted Jewish teachings, values, and customs to generation after generation. And so when we dedicated our home, we remembered by name our great grandparents, our grandparents, and our parents who all were part of the fulfillment of our dream.

Tomorrow, twenty years later, we plan to ascend the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. the point from which the holiness of the world emanates. Our ancestors have prayed for generations for the rebuilding of the Temple and we will not see the Temple rebuilt tomorrow, but we will stand on the holy mountain where it stood. And because the keys of the Temple Mount are still in the hands of the Muslim Wakf, we are prohibited from taking any religious articles with us. No prayerbooks, no talit, no tfilin, – even kippot (skullcaps) must be worn under hats that conceal them. But tomorrow, I will be taking something very special with me. I will be taking the names of my great-grandparents, my grandparents, my parents, and my aunts and uncles. They will symbolically ascend the mountain with me.

I will not be taking the names of my children or grandchildren, because not only may they visit the Temple Mount themselves, but I pray that they will be present to rejoice at the dedication of the Third Temple. May it be G-d’s will.

Mint Juleps with Mom

As a new bride, I joined my husband in Kentucky. He was serving as a US Army chaplain at Fort Knox. His thought, when we got married, was that he would serve his 20 years in the US Army and then retire in Israel. I, of course, had other plans. It wasn’t that I thought the Army was so foreign to my experience- it was, but my concern was that I didn’t want to have an unstable life, moving from place to place. Fortunately, I found an ally, my mother-in-law, who was not keen on her only child perhaps being sent to Vietnam where the war was in full swing.

Married in July, by the following May I was 7 months pregnant and my husband had agreed to look for a civilian pulpit. He was asked to fly out to Spokane, Washington, to interview there.

When I told my mother, she insisted that she come to stay with me while he was gone- from Thursday through Sunday because  she was afraid for me to be alone.

So that Thursday I literally walked to the gate on the left side of the corridor and watched my husband get on the plane and then turned to the right side at the gate directly across from it, and within minutes, my mother arrived.

It was the first time she had seen me showing- and by 7 months, I was pretty large. She noticed. We drove to my home and I cannot recall any details about our discussion nor about anything we discussed for those 3 days. I do know there were lots of smiles and laughter.

What I can recall is feeling very special, carrying her first grandchild. I can recall our going out once for ice cream sundaes at the local Howard Johnson’s and laughing when we heard a  group of women order large ice cream sundaes and diet drinks. I remember that Saturday night, we decided to check  out the place on Dixie Highway that was advertising mint juleps- the Kentucky Derby was that weekend and mint juleps were all the rage. I remember we went into the place that had them and we sat down and ordered them. She sat with her back to the door and I sat across from her.

I don’t remember what they tasted like. I don’t remember what we said. I just remember that the time we spent together that weekend was probably the best time we ever had together.

On Sunday afternoon, my mother left and a few minutes later, my husband returned.  A bit over 2 months later our oldest son was born.

mom

Twenty-six years later, I visited my own daughter in Israel when she was pregnant with my first grandchild. I hope she also experienced precious moments.

Fairy godmothers

OK, I’m not really talking about fairy godmothers, but I thought it might be a topic that people were curious about.

Well, actually, yes, I am talking about fairy godmothers, but not in the fictional sense.

There is a concept without a name (at least one that I am familiar with) that I would like to explore. If it’s been written about before, I would love to hear about it, so please let me know.

Having grown up in a home that wasn’t the most nurturing, I had to find validation other places. Here’s where I found it: there were teachers who smiled at me, there were my aunts who made me feel loved, and there were my grandmothers. All of these people were, to some extent, fairy godmothers. They were around sometimes and it was often merely their presence in my mind that formed for me a safety net in the world. As long as they were around, even if only in recent memory, I felt loved and supported. As a group, it felt as if I was encircled by them and protected.

As the years went by and I learned how to appreciate my own value and accomplishments, I didn’t need fairy godmothers so much. But still there were my parents there in the background, out of sight, but still potential supports. After the death of my father, I substituted my uncles in his role of standing behind me, supporting me.

Somewhere in my 30s or 40s, I began to realize that I took the place of fairy godmother for some Lamaze students I taught and some clients I worked with as a therapist. They carried me in their pocket or their mind or their heart, to take out when they needed reinforcement and stability and, I guess, love. I only knew, because they told me.

As time goes on, I realize the world is full of fairy godmothers. They are the people who are in our lives who just by their being there, even when they are far away, give us affirmation and strength. As we get older, often they are mentors, peers, and nowadays, facebook friends– people whose presence enriches our lives.

Often, our fairy godmothers don’t know the function they have in our lives. Often, we don’t realize it until they are no longer around.

So today, look around at your fairy godmothers. Figure out who they are. And appreciate how they have made your life better, just by being there.

And then, think about whose fairy godmother you are, because whether you know it or not, someone who is not in your family– who you may see only occasionally, someone’s life is better just because you are in it.

And so on…

I have been asked to continue writing about getting older. As I said, it’s not a subject that brings great joy, although I do remember asking my father how was it for him to grow older and he said, “It beats the alternative.”

So here goes…

In our teens, the world is all in front of us. Life seemingly will go on forever. We think about what we will do in the future. It’s all about getting more educated, more intelligent, more savvy, more involved, and taking on more and more responsibility.

When we are young adults, we begin to move toward our goals as best we can. There may be bumps in the road, but we have time.

Those of us who marry and have children spend the next years so involved in day to day life that at some point as the children reach adolescence, we think, “When did the time pass?” Suddenly, we are the older generation.

The children grow up and get married and that is good. And then, babies appear. Oh, they are so cute and lovable and sweet. And then we realize, we are grandparents. How did that happen?

But we are still young and active, or so we feel. As much as we look forward to retirement, the 50s and early 60s have us working at the top of our game.

And then, while we are still feeling like we’re in our 30s or 40s, that ugly number 65 appears.

And suddenly we realize that in the best of cases, we have more to look back on than to look forward to. In front of us is decline.

So we again focus on each day. We set up events to look forward to. We go out to eat. We meet friends. We travel to faraway places. We live each day fully.

But the world looks different.

The small concerns about falling or about having a strange lump or bump or reaction to an insect bite suddenly appear to be a threat that finally something is going to get you… because like it or not, at some age, you begin to realize you won’t live forever and then any threat to one’s health becomes a reason for concern. Maybe this is the thing that’s going to get me.

Of course I need to admit that when I was about 33, I had a lump on my arm, just below my elbow. For weeks, or maybe months, I was afraid to go to the doctor to ask what it was. I began having dreams about swimming around in circles with my one arm (they’d apparently amputated the other) and decided that it was time to see the doctor. I don’t even remember what he said, but it was truly nothing and I can still swim straight. But I do tend to envision the worst possible outcome when something is wrong and when I don’t, I tell myself that I am in denial… And, I think it gets worse the older I get.

Let’s hope I have another 40 years or so to worry….

Wednesdays with Ephraim

Wednesday morning

I get into the car.
My husband drives me to the train station.
I put my backpack through the X-ray machine, take the escalator downstairs.
There he is, smiling. “Savta!” he says.
His mom is there too, prepared for the trip.
I buy the tickets- one adult, one senior citizen (me???)
We get onto the train.
He sits on the seat and looks out the window.
“Tunnel!” he says.
We leave the tunnel and outside is interesting “trees! cars! bus!”
But after a while, it gets boring.
We take out the notebook computer.
He puts on the headphones and watches Dora.
He smiles.
Dora is over, he is ready to do something else.
“We’ll be there soon”
His mom gives him something to drink, a granola bar.
I give him my magnetic necklace.
Each occupies him for a minute or two.
“We’ll be there soon.”
Binyamina
It should be soon now.
Trees, cars, bus.
But it goes on and on.
Twenty minutes with a two year old who is bored is not easy.
Finally we arrive.
The taxi driver calls out our destination address. He took us there two weeks ago.
In the taxi the driver says, in English, “Wake up!”
Two weeks ago our two year old almost fell asleep in the taxi.
This week, he also looks like he will fall asleep.
He closes his eyes.
We say, “Wake up!”
His eyes stay closed, but a mischievous grin appears on his face.
This happens a few more times during our 7 minute trip up the mountain.
We arrive.
We walk up the stairs.
The waiting room has toys that by now are familiar.
He wants coffee.
They take him into the other room.
He doesn’t like when they look at his eyes.
They don’t touch him, but still he holds his hands across his eyes.
Each time they want to see his eyes, we distract him with something else.
The same item doesn’t work twice.
Finally, they are finished looking at him and we can go.
He still wants coffee.
His mother gives him a little tea with a lot of milk.
He is happy.
We walk to the taxi stand.
Soon we are at the train station.
In a few minutes, the train arrives.
The train is full.
But we find seats.
He is not pleased.
He screams and wails.
We take out the notebook computer once again.
This time he sits in his stroller and like any guy in a recliner, he settles back and watches another episode of Dora.
Relaxing on the train
Near the end of the ride he becomes bored again.
We try to find something to entertain him.
Even my Chinese fan loses its attraction in a short time.
Finally we approach the station.
Next week, we get to do it all over again.

On my Dad’s birthday

I miss my father now probably more than ever. He was a really wonderful man– not just to me and my family, but he was a man who everyone liked. His relatives, his friends, and even his customers all loved him. He had a ready smile, an optimistic outlook, and time to listen to everyone’s story.

In the worst times, he was strong and never lacked his optimism and resolve to live a good life. When my mother’s overspending finally bankrupted them, my father went on the road as a traveling salesman. He sold objects of art and was so successful that his suppliers couldn’t keep up with his sales. At the time, my husband and I and our baby son lived in Columbia, South Carolina. My father’s route was the eastern seaboard and so he showed up at our place a couple of times that year. He was always full of stories of the people he had met. He did a lot of smiling and it was a treat to have him to ourselves for a couple of days.

When he finally went back into his own business with my uncle Bill’s help, he put up a sign on the storefront that said, “Harry’s back!’ People would come into the store and greet him. People who hadn’t known him from before would say, “Harry’s back?” and he would turn around and show them his back!

Sometimes I picture him interacting with one or another of my grandchildren. It’s so very easy. I can see him smiling, talking with them, teaching them how to build things or draw things or how to appreciate the objects of nature. He’s always full of enthusiasm and fully invested in talking to and listening to the person he is with. I can see the sparkle in his eyes, and in my fantasy, he is here with me.

rachel&zayda

A Fictional Tale

Remember all those word problems we had to figure out in school? John is twice as old as his sister Mary will be when John’s younger brother, Christopher has his bar mitzvah- how old is his mother? OK, John and Mary are not likely to have a brother who is having a a bar mitzvah, much less “Christopher” but that’s beside the point. It’s also a lot easier than the word problem I’ve been trying to solve in the last 24 hours.

Let’s say a fictional woman has 5 fictional children. Two of them live within walking distance and the others live less than an hour’s drive away. (I’m giving you irrelevant information, akin to the names above, but you have to figure out which information *is* relevant– you will be tested on this.) Now let’s say that there’s a fictional holiday coming up at the beginning of next week (end of this week for John, Mary, and Christopher). For this fictional holiday, this fictional woman has been inviting all of her fictional children and her fictional grandchildren (an ever-increasing number) for the last, let’s see, maybe 10 years. At first, they would meet in the morning to hear the (fictional) megilla. Then, after a few years (maybe 7 or so), they would meet in the evening. Bagels and lox would have been a component of this fictional adventure. OK, so now you have the fictional history up to a couple of weeks ago.

At that time the fictional woman wrote an email to all five of the children suggesting they meet in the morning since the evening was after shabbat and therefore it would of necessity start late and the grandchildren would be tired etc. No one seemed to object. Let’s call the fictional children living close by the fictional woman A, B, & C (yes, I am aware I had said two lived close by; A, B, & C are the names of all three of the two of them, but that’s another story). A,B, & C all were fine with the plan. Let’s call the three who live within an hour’s driving distance X, Y, & Z (this fictional woman was not very creative at name-giving. Poor children… imagine the looks they got in school when they introduced themselves. I’ll bet though, no teacher asked them what they were called “for short.”)

The first sign of trouble was when X said, “Remember, we must leave by 9:30 a.m.” Not that it was trouble, but combined with the next statement, it presented problems. It was when Y said “It’s unrealistic to think that we can get there before 9:30 a.m.” What to do? One is arriving when the other is leaving and the whole point is for everyone to be there at the same time. It became a problem especially since the fictional woman does not want to upset or hurt any of her fictional children and pretty much is waiting with bated breath to see all of her totally adorable fictional grandchildren in their fabulous (fictional) costumes.

The fictional woman consulted with A,B,C, & Z. There were a number of suggestions including Skyping the X family in, meeting on Monday, buying Y a new alarm clock (threw that one in to fool you– no one actually (or fictionally) said that), etc. The fictional woman tried several different tactics from “Work it out yourselves” to “Let the disinterested parties work it out and we’ll abide by their decision” to “Let’s talk about interests rather than solutions.” At one point X suggested that X & Y work it out over a steak. The fictional woman was pretty sure who would be called upon to pay for the steaks.

No fewer than 32 emails were sent and several telephone calls were made. In the end, the X family sent its chief negotiator to settle the matter, more or less to everyone’s satisfaction.

Stay tuned for the fictional pictures sometime next week.

Savta, Grandma, Bubby, Nana

If new parents have a complaint “no one prepared me for parenthood” and parents of newly married children realize there is no road map to being a mother/father-in-law, there is another path that is far more uncharted. How does one be a grandparent?

You see, most people have been around new babies. They have watched friends or siblings or cousins be new parents. They observe comforting techniques, clever holds, and parent-initiated play. But being a parent-in-law and being a grandparent are far harder skills to learn.

We may have learned that in-laws were outlaws. Comedians told us that mixed feelings were what happened when you saw your mother-in-law driving off a cliff in your new Cadillac. Our own parents may have complained of in-laws’ meddling or of their disinterest. It seems that very few families hit a good balance.

But perhaps, even more problematic is how to define ourselves in the roles of grandparents. For many of us, our own grandparents seemed ancient when we were young, and seeing them as people separate from their grandparent role was so very difficult. They were obviously created only for our comfort, the real purveyors of unconditional positive regard.

At first, it’s not that hard. We coo and we smile and we hold and rock the infants. They are so lovable. I never really understood the word “delicious” until I looked at my first grandchild and now the youngest is just as delicious. But what do we do as they grow older?

Early on I decided that I was not into buying their love. First of all, Israeli homes are small. Secondly, my children buy their children everything they need and much of what they want. They lack for nothing. I didn’t want my grandchildren to look forward to my visits as a gift extravaganza. I also didn’t want to force hugs or kisses on them, as much as they were so very appealing. I remember as a child feeling smothered in my grandmother’s ample bosom. I didn’t want my grandchildren to feel that.

So how do we build healthy relationships with them? How do we let these precious young people know that we love them?

I decided that my home should have interesting things for the children to do when they come. Boxes of Legos, wooden blocks, small cars, little plastic people, and hand puppets are available. We have checkers and chess and playing cards. We have childrens’ videos and books. We sometimes show them home videos of interesting places we’ve been. We placed in the garden little figures in both ceramic and plastic of animals and gnomes that the children enjoy identifying, visiting, and often moving around from one place to another in the garden. Some of the figures are on the ground, some are hanging from trees, and one gorilla is climbing up a large pottery urn. As the seasonal fruits ripen on our trees and vines, together we pick plums, pomegranates, clementines, and lemons. We harvest grapes. We are growing kumquats and in another couple of years, when the fruit may be eaten, they will join the cycle. And we usually have an ample supply of pretzels and chocolate milk. In fact, when the children visit, often they home in on the chocolate milk as if it is a ritual. Of course the other thing we have done is the special trips that by now we have taken 7 of the grandchildren on.

We, of course, talk with them, listen to them, tell them stories about when their parents were young and tell them of our own adventures.

My maternal grandparents and their 6 oldest grandchildren

My maternal grandparents and their 6 oldest grandchildren 1955


My paternal grandmother and my two oldest children (her great-grandchildren) 1973

My paternal grandmother and my two oldest children (her great-grandchildren) 1973


My parents with their grandchildren, 1983

My parents with their grandchildren, 1983

What do you/your parents do as grandparents to foster close relationships with your/their grandchildren?