Prelude to the Journey of a Lifetime

I never wanted to go to Israel.

Not before my best friend moved there, more than thirty years ago.

Not after.  

For years Betty tried to persuade me to visit, and I came up with one excuse after another, usually related to security concerns, even though many of her other friends and family made the journey and returned with no issues.

Betty and I met our first day of college at Cal State LA as we both waited at the bus stop. We started talking, and we’ve never stopped since.  We shared many adventures—and misadventures—over the years, and there’s no one person who has shared every single life-changing moment with me but Betty. We’ve been through thick-and-thin, literally and figuratively.  Confession is good for the soul, so “they” say, so I’ll confess that her decision to “make Aliyah” to Israel hit me hard, and it took years for me to adjust. She was my rock, the one person I could turn to when I needed to laugh or cry or just vent. She was the sister I never had, and I was hers.

And then she was gone. She came back, once by herself at a time that couldn’t have been more perfect, once with her husband, Doobie. That was in 1993, and it was the last time we spoke.

After many pleas by Betty over many years to come visit,  until she finally gave up hope of ever persuading me, an earth-shattering revelation and a synchronicity changed my mind.

The date was August 14, 2015 (I know because I recorded it on Facebook), and I realized I wasn’t getting any younger.  Amazing, right? I couldn’t face the possibility that I might never see my friend again, and if I didn’t make the move soon, it might never happen.  Our days aren’t guaranteed, and both of us are of an age where we read the obituaries of many younger than us.

That reality had never hit me so boldly before.  Yes, I HAVE been told I live in a fantasy world. More than once, in fact.

On a whim, I pulled up the Road Scholar website to check for programs in Israel and found the perfect one—a hiking program scheduled for mid-September 2016 on a trail modeled after the Appalachian Trail. I’d spent several months losing weight, getting healthy, resuming a passion for hiking that had faded with the latest weight gain.  The hiking program would show a side of Israel not accessible to everyone, and I could continue my fitness regimen. Besides all that, Betty’s birthday fell right in the middle of the program, and we could share the first birthday together in over three decades. The signs pointed in the right direction. All it would take was some money, some extra days off  agreed to by my employer and Betty’s acknowledgment that the timing would work for her and Doobie.

Within a few days I had affirmatives on all the contingencies,  made the reservation with Road Scholar, and messaged Betty that she’d better get Blanco the cat ready to share his bed in the spare room with me.

Betty still didn’t believe I’d go through with it. Anything could, and probably would, happen within the year until my scheduled departure.