Mourning after

The seven days of mourning is over. Finally. I had to mourn in that torn, dirty dress for only 15 minutes this morning and promptly changed and took my first walk to the grocery store. The Palestinian workers there wondered where I'd been all week, and after I told them, blessed me with the same blessings Jews give each other - "May you know of no more sorrow, only happiness."

We went to the cemetery this morning and recited Psalms. I looked at our beat up Hyundai Lantra that drove dad all over Jerusalem for his shopping errands with his two canes when he lived near us over 5 years ago. Hubby was his chauffer extraordinaire. But he's Canadian macho and preferred to stand back and mope by himself rather than join the crowd. I can now re-enter civilization. The only thing I can't get is a haircut this month and listen to music. I've already threatened my brother that before the month is up, I'm coming over with my camera to take a photo of his beard. He's very anti-beard and will be really miserable this month. It's also a good thing the Rolling Stones aren't playing anywhere because that would have caused a major sin.

Some recollections - My brother is 11 years older than I am, and always called me his "baby sister" which caused me great pain throughout my teenage years. I seem to love that term now. But when I turned 21 and came to his wedding, I was more readily accepted by him and his friends and they promptly asked me to join them in their pre-celebratory hash smoking frenzy. I was of course completely flattered (ever since Brother married a proper English woman, all "joints" have been rendered as extinct as Tyrannesaurus Rex). He and his friends had this code name for smoking contraband - "reading books". My Brother was the "librarian". We'd ask each other "How many books did you read today?" "Was it a quality book?" and so on. Once I walked with two of his friends from the "library", who wouldn't have given me the time of day when I was 17. We took a morning toke and a morning hike - pre-dawn - up to Masada. We were laughing hysterically about everything, enjoying the beautiful vistas and each other's company. One English guy - a complete stranger - looks at our motley group and says to Eddie "You're very funny, you must read alot of books". With that comment, we all laughed uncontrollably (or as my friends would say "had a Dean Martin coffee spit").