June 2003

On landing at Ben Gurion airport in December 1982, there were three thoughts uppermost in my mind (not necessarily in this order):
What a privilege to participate in the ingathering after 2000 years of exile
Where’s the nearest place to buy halva
Who in yeshiva can make up a bridge foursome

20 years later, my concerns have hardly altered. I feel privileged to be an over-taxed resident of this chaotic country; I am one of Israel’s few publicly acknowledged halva connoisseurs (and I have seven halva-induced fillings to prove it); and, having failed to find three people to make up a bridge foursome, I adopted what they call in my business, a “long-term strategy”-- I gave birth to them.

It all started just 4 weeks ago when Ari (15) piped up one evening, “Daddy, teach me to play bridge” (This to me was the equivalent of Moshe Rabbenu’s son asking “Daddy, teach me Torah”). 30 minutes later, Ari (15), Elon (12), Naphtali (10) and I (39) were seated like compass points around a square table playing my first rubber since the early 80’s. The next day, Ari found a bridge site on the Internet. That evening, we ingested spaghetti bolognaise and bidding conventions for supper, peppered with references to ruffing and finessing. The bridge craze has done wonders for our family cohesion and I have become a popular Daddy once again. The children now eagerly await my return from work – because they need me to make up the foursome.

As with the early days of chess, Ari has taken upon himself a missionary role. Every child who walks through the door of the house is taught how to play bridge (cf. newsletters from 10 years ago, which describe how Ari taught everyone who walked through the door to play chess).

Bridge also gave some value to the Internet connection we pay for each month. The Internet, you see, supplies endless partners when Daddies have to work, change babies, wash dishes and be nice to their wives. (Try http://www.e-bridgemaster.com for starters).

“נפל דבר “ as they say in Hebrew. In the Isaacs house, today, Chess is for squares; Bridge is King.

Centrifugal Forces
If my failing memory serves me right, centrifugal forces have something to do with things revolving round a central point and the pull of gravity. I’d like to argue that social structures have centrifugal forces, and the high density small point that effects a gravitational force on the Isaacs family is Abigail.

Whereas Elon, Naphtali, and Orly (8) were born into a family in which their siblings were at best learning to wipe their own noses (Ari was 6 when Orly was born), Abigail (18 months) landed in a family of relative adults ranging in age from 8 to 14. (They can wipe their noses now, but don’t all necessary use the appropriate equipment all the time). Whereas Ari at 6 considered baby Orly little more than a nuisance, Ari at 15, and all the others down to age 8, consider Abigail (18 months) a treasure to be tended, cared for and amused.

For Abigail, Orly is a big sister who shares girly things with her, especially clothes and jewellery (jewellery that Orly owns is defined by Judy as “little shiny plastic things that if you dare leave around the house and the baby picks them up and swallows them, she will choke”).

From her day of birth, Abi held a special place in Naphtali’s heart. He runs home from school just to see and hold her.

Eloni and Ari give expression to Abigail’s untamed side. Hoisting her high on their shoulders, they sing and dance wildly, throw her around, perform ludicrous acrobatics and do all sorts of silly things that make her giggle and her parents miss a heartbeat.

I reckon that Judy and I as parents are only doing half the job. We still feed and bed and wash and change the baby. But Abi is being raised at least 50% by her brothers and sister. So if she turns out right, please remember to whom the credit goes.

Dr. Isaacs, the second generation
Last week, together with my mother, I had the proud privilege to attend a ceremony in the unforgettable amphitheater of the Hebrew University Mount Scopus campus at which my brother Alick was awarded his doctorate in Jewish History. The setting truly behooves such a regal occasion. The “ampi” as it is called, stretches high and far above a Grecian-like stage allowing room for thousands of spectators. The scenery from “the gods” is breath taking. Beyond the stage is a panoramic expanse of barren, arid desert, punctuated only by a few red-roofed houses, symbolizing, to me, the continuous battle of the Zionist enterprise to push the desert borders back to where they belong – beyond the confines of the state of Israel.

The ceremony itself was most un-Israeli - dignified and orderly. Alick’s name was called out as alphabetically almost the first of hundreds of new PhDs. It is humbling to think that like Alick, all these other graduates must have struggled for 10 years and more to pursue their studies while family and livelihood pursued them. Completing a doctorate in Israel is a marvelous achievement, perhaps telling as much of the “chatan’s” tenacity, perseverance and diligence as of his academic capabilities. It is thrilling to have another “Dr. Isaacs” in the family, especially another “Dr. Alick Isaacs”. And as on all such occasions, our joy is tempered with the warm regret that our Father was not there to relish the moment.


Wishing you all Chag Shavuot Sameach

Michael, Judy,
Ari, Elon, Naphtali, Orly and Abigail
Isaacs
Elkana