Wishing all a good and sweet year

Arrived in Lake Oswego around noon the day before erev Rosh HaShannah.

Last year, it was a crazy idea to travel to Oregon for the High Holy Days, but I was so glad that I did. This year, it was five times crazier to do it. And again, now that I'm here, I'm so glad that I did.

There is no reason that Lake Oswego should feel like home, but my memories of the High Holy Days here last year are quite vivid and meaningful. There is no reason that Beit Haverim should make me feel like I did at Beth El, during "my ten good years," but it does. Alan and Bonnie would be mystified if they knew how important they are to me. Anticipation of being at their shul tomorrow has precipitated still more self reflection and, finally, some useful insights.

The views from the plane when we flew into Portland were beautiful. After living for two months in the hot desert of Israel, the greenness of Oregon and the clouds in the sky were a balm, and, as expected, the moderate temperature seemed quite cold to me. My Irish ancestors, who left Ireland in 1799, must have thought when they arrived in Oregon that it looked just like the home they had left. Could that be why I, too, felt as if I were coming home?

My cab driver was pleased to hear that I live in Israel. He is Kurdish and told me that Israel is the only nation supporting Kurdish independence. We talked a bit about mid-East politics. He moved to Portland from Iraq twenty years ago. I knew there is a Kurdish community in Jerusalem; he told me something I didn't know: that particular Kurdish community is Jewish.

After eating lunch, enjoying a view of the lake, and settling in, I slept for seven hours. 

At midnight, I wrapped myself in a comforter and sat near an open window listening to a light rain fall on the lake and the sound of a train whistle in the distance. In the dark, all I could see were the shapes of trees and a few lights reflected on the water. It was just one of those moments that feeds your soul... 

(Tomorrow, I will take my computer to a repair shop before I meet Jon for lunch, so I won't post again for a while. My memories will have to be preserved with pen and ink.)