Daliyat! Detours! Delights! — Roaming with Roth

I am way behind on my communications and sad when I lose touch with the personal contact I desire. Writing behind a self-imposed schedule becomes more difficult for me, pressurized like the days before final term papers are due. I stall, start, stall and stop. It's really a head trip. Why I want 'to get it right' eludes me. Self-judgment is a curse. Of course, there is no performance here, no test, no standards or grades. Yet, I sometimes feel as if I wish to reveal more, and I battle with the balance between pondering and the ponderous - remaining more chronicle than confessional. My most sincere ambition is to bring you along on our journey while providing what inspiration I can. And, trust that my deep sense of conviction and authenticity will communicate most effectively.

I have no such fear in telling you about my FAMILY - my adopted family. As adults, we eventually learn that despite the dictionary definition of 'family', ["a basic social unit consisting of parents and their children, considered as a group, whether dwelling together or not"] the reality of family is more fluid and expansive. Many of us have discovered that genetic relations, although 'sticky', become obligatory and do not 'adhere' one necessarily to those with whom our DNA is shared. (In China, do you know what the definition of "sticky rice" is?: Answer: Adult children who have not left home)

This is a story of 'miracles' - the magical moments when the universe aligns in spectacular and unexpected ways to provide you with new paths of discovery and opportunity. Such was the case on June 10, 2010 when Adele and I traveled to Israel for our 25th wedding anniversary. It would be fair to say that I did not anticipate that Adele would choose Israel for this momentous occasion. But, as it turned out, what we discovered was greater than anything we might have imagined.

We arranged to spend one night in a "zimmer' [Bed&Breakfast] in Daliyat al Karmel, a Druze village near Haifa that is a cultural/societal throwback...an anomaly of time, custom and convention. A kind of Arabic "Brigadoon". The Druze 'religion' is relatively modern, dating back to an Egyptian caliphate in the 10th-11th centuries. A peaceful, giving and generous people, their hospitality is unequaled in its sincerity and commitment to your comfort and enjoyment. Still, in swearing allegiance to the countries within which they reside, the Druze have drawn the ire and hatred of Israeli Arabs and the disregard of Israelis. Accused of betraying Muslim tenets and failing to share Arabic goals they are likewise, despite their nationalistic loyalty and military service, overlooked by Israeli legislators who can easily dismiss them in light of their acquiescent manner. They are brilliantly positioned at the societal fulcrum making them a relatively objective observer for insight into the Israeli/Palestinian conflict.

On this afternoon, Adele and I drove to the home of our host who stood street side to wave us into his driveway. I opened the door to the car, stepped outside and with a broad smile of relief at having finally arrived, extended my hand to meet the hand of my host. In that moment, like a fairy-tale cartoon collision, [fireworks and all], two people came together knowing each other's hearts' intention. This, of course, is the short version of a complex tale of love, commitment and renewal.

In Druze villages, family is primary...necessary not obligatory. It is the most vital part of their expression of life. And, in that instant of human encounter, we knew that we were linked in some profoundly spiritual way and that we would be 'family' forevermore. Emad (my 'brother') confided to me that our first interaction was a synergy only equal to the first time he met his wife, Nawal. On both occasions, he knew he was helpless and destined to allow his complete trust and faith to engulf and rule his actions.

My brother Emad Halabi preparing pomegranates from his garden to juice. I would 'guesstimate' this was a three-hour meditation.

Adele and I were invited to join them for dinner that first night. We did so on the patio/garden of their home. Most of the time was spent laughing and sharing tales of our native homes and habits. When it was time for bed, we were invited to stay an additional night. We indicated that we had reservations in Akko that following evening. Yet, Emad was so persuasively insistent that I got on the phone to the hotel and switched our reservation to the following night.

The whole next day was spent visiting Emad's relatives and friends, gaining privileged access...like family. We visited shop keepers, stopped in on friends in their homes, said hello to an owner of a restaurant, met a religious leader, and, as is the way in the Arabic community, were sat down each visit (not asked or offered) to share coffee. And cakes, and nuts, and fruit...

Before I go on, I must tell you about Nawal, his wise and beautiful wife. Nawal is the light-hearted buoy, the stalwart beacon, the quiet force...and, the gourmet cook. She is Mother and Wife. She works tirelessly and not because of any expectations (which culturally most definitely exist) but out of pure, unadulterated Love. A rare capacity for unselfish giving. It is their family that we are a part of to our humble gratitude.

We have returned to our family every year since 2010. And, this year on the occasion of the marriage of Enab. The last of three to marry.

We arrived this year in celebration of their last child's (Enab) wedding. Enab's twin sister, Rabab, was married last year. Three years ago we attended the wedding of their eldest and only son, Hatem. Adele and I have attended each wedding and have enjoyed knowing their spouses.

Enab is that rare combination of intelligence, ambition, courage, self-determination and, as you can readily observe, beauty. She is a funny and witty young lady who, along with Rabab, has degrees in architectural and interior design, and owns with her twin sister a ladies dress and sportswear shop. together they have over 20,000+ followers on Facebook and Instagram.

These two bright and affectionate young ladies call me "Uncle David". I do not have to tell you what that does for my heart.

Many years ago, my brother showed me property that has been in the family for generations and is set aside for Hatem. Walking the property, my brother said that he spoke to his son and all agreed that (pointing) "You can come and live here with the view of the sea. And, you will be taken care of when you grow old". It was impossible for me to withhold my tears from my brother's tenderness.

I have never really considered moving to Israel as an option. But every time these fine young ladies come and give me a hug and a kiss, I pause for a moment thinking, in my more advanced years, how nice it would be to be provided for by the likes of Rabab and Enab.