My encouraging visit to Israel with my son

All my life, I was afraid to go to Israel. The stories of terrorism were scary to me. Although many of my family and friends visited Israel, I never understood the attraction to Israel. I did not grow up in a religious family.

My son Sam moved to Israel in March 2023, when he was 24 years old. He made Aliyah in the Nefesh B'Nefesh program for young professionals. Sam started in the Ulpan program in Ra'anana to learn Hebrew. Mostly with Russian and Ukrainian refugees, he was one of only two Americans. Sam was not religious, did not attend temple, but attended shabbat dinners occasionally for social reasons. He was an anomaly. Part of his decision to move to Israel was for his interest in high tech companies, not just to search for his culture. 

Sam moved to Israel eight months before the Oct. 7 attack. He was not my first adult child to go to Israel during a war. When my daughter was 18 years old, she went on a Birthright trip on the day the 2014 Gaza war started. She bravely handled the sirens and safe rooms when a bomb landed near her hotel in Eilat. I frantically called the embassy every day, especially when she returned home the day a plane was shot down over Ukraine. 

My son also went on a Birthright trip to Israel years before. Two years before he made Aliyah, Sam took a trip to Cypress to give a neuroscience lecture from Georgia Tech, working on his PHD. When he took a side trip to Tel Aviv, it influenced his decision to move to Israel. 

When I made a casual call to Sam on Oct. 7 Saturday morning, and he told me to watch the news, I was shocked. For months, I had a son now with dual citizenship, and I was watching the news closely of the hopeful rescue of Israeli and dual-citizen hostages on my Israel real times app. After the sirens continued in Israel and Sam had to go to safe rooms for months, the war calmed down a little. I slowly learned to live with it like an Israeli mother afar. But my worries never completely disappeared. Without micromanaging a very strong-minded son, I checked on him as much as he allowed. He was good about keeping in touch with very long conversations.

After living in Israel for almost a year, Sam took a second trip to America. It was to revitalize himself. He visited us and many friends in numerous states. When he invited me to go back with him to Israel, I was caught by surprise. I did not immediately say yes. But, when I wrestled with the decision, talked to family and friends, my Israeli support group, most encouraged me to go. In my heart, even though I went back and forth, I knew I was going. My son invited me, and it would be a memorable visit with him I would cherish forever.

At the end of February this year, four months after the war started, still ongoing, I travelled with my son on the crowded El Al plane to Israel. Sam lives on the third floor of a four-story apartment in Ramat Gan. Before walking up many stairs to his apartment, I could not miss the safe room. My son told me he knew where the bomb shelters were everywhere. I walked inside the small dark room trying to imagine how it could protect you from a rocket. Sam also showed me an ominous gas mask left over by the previous tenant.

His apartment overlooked a dog park. It was old with mold, spacious with an open scenic patio. Leaves all over the floor, blown in through windows. I tried to clean, but without centralized air, the windows remained open. It reminded me of his days of camping as a Boy Scout. The one time I had to go camping from his transition to Boy Scouts from Cub Scouts, I could not stand it. But this was different, I was in his apartment in Israel.

My first impression of Israel was that it was a different culture. On the plane, packed with Israelis leaving from Miami, it was business-like, not personal. The grocery stores were difficult because I did not know Hebrew. The Israeli people were helpful, especially on the buses. My son gave me assignments to take a bus to the Ramat Gan art museum and to the Carmel market. Sam instructed me to walk two miles to the extreme religious area of B'nai Brach where I saw up close traditional Hasidic life.

Sam was my personal tour guide. Even though he was working, he took me to many places. I felt like a lone tourist. He showed me Tel Aviv several times. We drove to the Western Wall and Dead Sea. Along the way, he pointed out the Bedouins and gave me warnings everywhere he went. He acted as if he was my security guard - he was on vigilance for my safety. If I had not known there was a war in Israel, I would not know there was a war. Other than the posters of the hostages everywhere, I felt a sense of safety. Even if it was a false feeling of safety because I felt people were watching me, it could have been because I was a lone tourist. The Israeli people were living their best life. 

While floating in the Dead Sea, I casually spoke to an Israeli lady. When I changed the topic to the hostages, she told me about her close friend whom I had seen on the news - a Dublin father who's hostage daughter had been rescued. She pointed out the Dead Sea resort where he now lives. Everywhere I went, I talked to Israelis, to get to know the culture, and deep down, I was trying to understand why my son wanted to live there. 

At the Dead Sea, my son and I talked to many Israelis. Most of them were visiting from central parts of Israel like Tel Aviv. Driving to the farthest point anywhere in Israel is usually a two-hour drive. It was at the Dead Sea where I really felt like a lone tourist. It was different in a familiar way than the Florida beaches where I grew up as a native Floridian. The water felt like globs of lotion and moisturizer while I floated effortlessly on my back viewing Jordan. In fact, the shops selling Israeli lotions near the eateries made it seem more modernized.

At the Western Wall, men and women are separated. While at the Western Wall, I stood on a bench on the women's side with another lady peering at the men's side to catch a glimpse of my son. Instead, on a Thursday morning, I caught a view of a bar mitzvah ceremony on the men's side. Women were touching the wall and praying, encouraging me to do the same. Sam told me to dress more conservatively than normal. Even though I am not religious, I consider myself culturally Jewish.

Sam took me to many restaurants. All the Mediterranean food, including falafel, was better in Israel than America. The portions are bigger in Israel. Even the street food was delicious. I especially loved Ethiopian food. Even the more commercialized restaurants on the Tel Aviv beach had good food. I was surprised that hummus was not better in Israel, but I did not find any food in Israel that I did not like.

Israelis are matter of fact. At the Carmel market, I met a group of young women who are IDF soldiers. They would soon be going to the northern part of Israel to serve in the army. They were very upbeat, personable, and curious about America. At a Shabbat dinner hosted by a family my son worked with part-time, most of the kids I met were IDF soldiers. They told me their stories. So calmly routine for them! They had a daughter fighting as an IDF soldier in Gaza at that time. What was routine for the Israelis would be a worrisome way of life for us in America. That was part of the cultural difference.

When I first came to Israel, it seemed so big. By the end of my two-week trip, it seemed so small. I think it was because I realized it was what Sam told me. Israel was a weird mixture of an old-world country in a modern world with technical and medical advances. For me, it was not miraculous or a fantasy world like Disney, although parts seemed like Florida, but it was a most intriguing place. The realization that so many different types of Jews in a small country could live together was surreal. Even though everything shuts down and it is quiet from Friday night to Saturday in Israel, most Israelis are not religious.

There was so much diversity in Israel even though it was a predominately a Jewish country. The thing is, there was so much pride that, even with an abundance of Jews, they did not take it for granted. They lived life like things were normal in the middle of a war. I was lucky that I did not experience any sirens while visiting my son. I started out curious about Israel, a country I sided with, but was fearful of going to all my life. It was crazy that my first visit to Israel was during a war, a war unlike any other in Israel. But I overcame my fear by going back with my son. Surprisingly, an IDF son at the Shabbat dinner told me it was brave of me to go to Israel now. I told him it was not, that it was brave of him to serve in the IDF. Maybe I was becoming a Zionist, I did not know. But, after this trip, I was so intrigued that I knew I wanted to go back. Perhaps, for the first time in my life, I understood why so many Jews loved going to Israel. But, for me, it was mostly because my son was there.

Both of Oviedo resident Simone Goldstein's grown children have had articles in the Heritage. The story of her daughter, Elana's, experiences on a Birthright trip in 2014 are told in "'Rockets red glare/bombs bursting in air' didn't hamper teen's trip to Israel," Aug. 22, 2014; and Sam's graduation from Oviedo High School as valedictorian of the class of 2016 in the May 20, 2016 issue.