Back to the Future. Did Anything Become Better?

Today it is April 30th, 1978.

My father opened the tent after a good night’s sleep somewhere in the desert near Palmyra. As a disciplined soldier, he dropped to his knees and began to sing the Dutch national anthem, the Wilhelmus. We laughed. It was absurd and beautiful at the same time. My father kneeling in front of a tent in Palmyra, Syria. An image burned into memory. Only years later did we understand that this image would never fade, and that the place itself would one day be erased.

My parents were in Syria on a mission for Israel. I never knew the details. Children are not told such things. But I felt the tension in my mother’s body. I still remember it clearly. Two police officers in civilian clothes approached my mother while they carried the famous bag. The bag no one was allowed to touch. Inside were documents, money, or something else Israel needed inside Syria. Something important enough to risk everything.

Luck played its role. My mother was beautiful, and men are still men. The officers were distracted when she spoke to them, confident and calm, while my brother climbed the ruins nearby, collecting Roman pottery shards as if this were a holiday. My mother even asked........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)