September 6, 1972

Our first shock.  Being in a time warp what with traveling with two small children, a canceled flight, transferring airports, we had no idea what was happening at the Munich Olympics, where the Israeli athletes were slaughtered.  All I know is that, when we landed in Israel, soldiers boarded our flight and checked us all out carefully.  It was only when we made it through customs and immigration and were greeted by Abe’s nephew that we learned of the horrible tragedy.  What a start to the year abroad.

Customs and immigration was the usual farce.  Ever since he got his citizenship, my husband always travels on his American passport, instead of his Israeli one.  He absolutely hates Israeli bureaucracy, and there is so much of it.. So basically, when customs and immigration asked him if he had ever lived on Katznelson Street in Givatayim, he just flatly said no.  They asked if he had a father who lived on Katznelson Street and he said no.  They knew he was lying, but with a shrug they stamped his passport and let him through.

On previous visits, without the American passport, he had to get permission from the army to leave Israel, as he was still required to do reserve duty.  For some reason—I make no assessment here—the army never seemed to need him.

Tired, hot, overburdened, we arrived at our new home for the year.  Immediately, I discovered the house has a mouse problem.  Delightful.