Bernard Axelrad Scholarship Fund

As a child of the Great Depression, I have never failed to seek true value for my money. While I no longer need to watch the pennies, old habits die hard and I regularly shop carefully, cautiously and sparingly. Yet when it comes to travel, I invariably feel that money is well spent.

When I travel to another country I feel like a child again, escaping from the ghetto of the Lower East Side of New York by educating myself, by exploring, by seeking.

I come alive!

My antennae go up!

I ask questions of everybody and about everything: How much for the bus? How much for the train? What's the best way to go? What does it cost to live there? Why do you do this and not that?

It's not that easy when you don't speak the language. In a foreign country with its different money, language and customs to be conquered, I recapture a youthful exuberance at the challenge. I lose that complacent, all-too-common feeling of just sliding through life.

I am rejuvenated, and that is a joy of itself.

A recent six-week trip through France and to Israel with my bride, Lillian, a journey I found so vitalizing and stimulating, is the basis of this reflection on the various delights of travel.

For example, I found that Paris' reputation as the most beautiful city in the world is well merited, no matter what one thinks of its sometimes supercilious inhabitants. And for the first time I traveled outside of Paris and into the Provence area, where both Avignon and Aix-en-Provence were delightful and served as bases from which to venture forth by train and bus to surrounding smaller towns.

Even the theft of our passports in Aix did not dampen our ardor for the area. It was somewhat balanced by the marvelous experience of getting an Aliyah at a Shabbat service where the congregation was Sephardic and primarily from North Africa. Instead of a congratulatory handshake afterwards, a kiss was bestowed on both cheeks!

But while enjoying every locale visited, the most pleasurable part of the trip was not in beloved places, but with beloved people.

Israel provided the special attraction: There reside a son, very pregnant daughter-in-law, granddaughter of six, and a grandson of four whom I had not seen before. In Jerusalem, also, lives my only daughter, Lisa.

My son, Steve, has been there for well over 12 years, departing just a month after graduating from college. He is quite thoroughly assimilated into Israeli ways and thought. While his absence was difficult for me initially, I now see how content he is there and recognize that it was his destiny all along.

Unquestionably he belongs to Israel now, and I am in accord.

Lotti, his wife and my daughter-in-law, is a Sabra and I have loved her since I first set eyes on her nine years ago. She is comely, vivacious and good, and is an excellent wife, mother and daughter who brings sunshine and light into my son's life. He is fortunate to have her.

Both six year old Dina and four year old Roni speak only Hebrew, so our conversation is limited. But who needs words to convey love to grandchildren?

Only an absentee grandparent can relate to the emotions evoked in seeing for the first time ever a four-year-old, aloof but adorable grandson and renewing acquaintances with a six-year-old, animated and pixie-like granddaughter who was last seen as a two year old. While the children are quite different in temperament they are both intelligent, independent and a delight to be around.

Now, having spent time with them, I miss them more than ever.

It was wonderful to see the casual and unstructured manner in which Steve and Lotti are raising Dina and Roni.

For reasons of his own, Steve is quite a permissive, yet loving and involved father. His children certainly act free of undue parental restraints and without the need of seeking approval. Seldom does Steve interfere in quarrels between Dina and Roni; and, when they see that there will be no parental intervention, they go through the cycle — argue, fight, cry — and then cease of their own volition. It was an eye-opener for me to observe how redundant parents can be in such sibling disputes.

Still, there are loose limits set and the children are firmly informed when they breach the taboos. Somehow it all works effectively and my grandchildren are free souls and, yet, not spoiled.

Steve likes nothing better than to be around his children. Unobtrusive and non-interfering, he is nevertheless there if needed. His training as a school psychologist is useful, and it helps that Lotti essentially shares his sentiments in child raising. Since ordinarily Steve is not demonstrative, communicative or affectionate, I was pleased to see how loving, talkative and effective he is with his children.

It made me feel warm and proud that he had turned out that way.

Also renewed was the special and close relationship with Lisa, who has lived in Israel for almost nine years. She went there in 1978 to attend Steve's wedding without the slightest thought of living there, and has remained ever since.

Our communication is so good that Lisa and I are able to bridge our lengthy separations easily, and feel at home with each other from the outset. We love to talk and share: family, life, philosophy, people, you name it. While not always in accord, we are familiar enough with the other's views and feelings to at least cut to the heart of matters quickly and disagree without rancor.

Fortunately, too, Lillian has an extremely empathetic relationship with Lisa and supplies the gentle and compassionate understanding that I sometimes lack. The two genuinely enjoy being together and frequently spent time with each other while I was off with Steve and the grandchildren.

Neither Steve nor Lisa are observant of Jewish rituals or prayer, yet both find immense satisfaction in living in a Jewish land. Having reconciled myself to the fact that two of my four children (and grandchildren) live oceans away from me, I now eagerly look forward to our infrequent get togethers.

I have always felt very comfortable and at home in Israel, and on this sixth visit more than ever. A seventh jaunt is in the offing for, just as four years earlier with Roni, I missed the birth of my latest granddaughter, Noam, born shortly after my return.

Two further comments on the joys of travel:

While travelling in distant lands I feel good physically, emotionally and mentally. Many minor physical afflictions mysteriously disappear. Annoying tingling and nagging numbness in my arm are no more. Food and drink that I dare not partake at home do me no harm in Paris and Jerusalem.

It probably has to do with the sense of freedom from obligation that I feel while away.

Secondly, I doubt if the joys of travel would be so pronounced for me without Lillian at my side. She spurs me to new discoveries when I would be content to rest on lesser laurels, buoys me when I am down, shares feelingly in both my elations and afflictions, suffers patiently through my tantrums, and graciously permits me to be myself at all times.

Yes, travel with such joy and such naches is worth every penny.

CHILDREN OF ISRAEL. In a family photo, Bernie Axelrad's son Steve holds grandson Roni while daughter-In-law Lotti, pregnant with Noam (born after the author's return), and granddaughter Dina stand nearby.