13 hours later after my mom discovered that I got motion sickness (my sister found it out the hard way - sorry sis) we arrived in Israel. This was the January of 1972 and tensions were high. My Mom and I were stripped searched at the airport (My Mom was really pissed because I was barely six years old) and then we made our way to Jerusalem, where my dad was assigned through work. Some things from the trip are fuzzy but there are some that I still "feel".

Because my dad had "connections" we went on a private tour and sometimes to restricted places. I remember the guards with machine guns in the street - being hoisted on the shoulders of an army general who I later found out was killed in battle - the nice guy from somewhere like australia or something we befriended me on the tour - the wailing wall where people really do wail - my sixth grade birthday celebrated in the traditional way where I was raised in a chair and everyone sang......I remember all these things but the one I remember most is the visit to Masada. I swear I still remember the feel of the dirt when I bent down to touch it (I think I saw a cool rock or perhaps I fell, but I remember that feeling) - I remember looking down into a ruin and seeing an outline of a rug or decoration on the floor - and I also remember the feeling of something very old and spiritual. I am in no way a traditional spiritual sort, but there was just this unexplainable feeling that there was something special about this place......that's my story.