Introduction:

            The loud noise of the rain muffled the sound of the school bell, and then, just like magic, the rain stopped.
I remembered very well what Mother told me that morning
 "Now don't forget, Sonny. Don't leave school if it rains, but as soon as it stops, rush right back home."
    Lucky me, the rain stopped right on time. Now all I had to do was run home as fast as I could. I grabbed all my books, stuffed them in my school bag, picked up my chair, dropped it on top of the desk, and without realizing that it had fallen right back on the floor, zipped through the door.

    Looking up toward the sky for a glimpse just made me run faster. The sky was very dark, and it was only five after twelve. We always ended school at five after twelve. My house was just half a mile from the school. I had to go through the nursery school, and the “Drop of Milk Center” for the Mother and Child. There I had to be very careful not to slide and fall into the puddle of “hamra” -- That's what the Arabs called the red and slippery dirt. Go down the hill, look to the left, to the right, and to the left again, and only then, when I'm sure that no cars are close by, cross the road. I had to pass the sand dunes where I always stop to play, (sometimes I forget, lunch is getting cold,) go up the hill, and turn left to our newly paved street. See the house of Gadi on the left, Moshiko on the right, Yonah, the dirty boy, on the left next to the old lady that is in front of the “dead man's” house. Skip over the empty trash can that Yosi and Yoram didn't put back in its place yet. They come home from school at one. Both of them are older than I, and they go to the orthodox school. On Wednesday they come home at two because they have music lessons, Yoram plays the darbuka, an Arab drum, and Yosi plays the mandolin, I always liked to visit them when they play together. They're very good. After I passed their house, I would enter our yard and walk on the old pavement, careful not to trip over the crooked tile, step up the two steps, and enter the house.

    Well, this time I ran very fast. I passed the nursery school, and just next to the Drop of Milk, where the “hamra” is, I tried to run around the puddle. But it was so large it passed the fence of the “Drop of Milk”, and I was forced to go through the puddle. I could not stop now because everything came too fast. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself face down in the middle of the “hamra,” my school backpack opened, and the books flying above my head into the red mush.

    I tried to get up and slid again right on my face. I had to crawl on all fours to collect all my books, dirt and all, and put them back in the bag. After falling two more times, I finally managed to get up and walk home. When I passed next to the house of Yona, the dirty boy, I wondered if he ever got to be so dirty with this red Indian color, and if so, could he wash it off?
"Did you stop to play at the dunes again?" Mom yelled from the kitchen when I opened the door. "How many times did I tell you to rush home when it's rai... " She stopped right there, when she came to see if I shook the sand off before I entered the house.
"What happened? You look like you went swimming in chocolate."
"Chocolate?" The voice of my little brother came from the bedroom. "Chocolate, I want chocolate! I want chocolate..."
We never heard the end of it...

    The silence in the classroom was suddenly erupted into a roaring applause and cheer. I was stunned. Being the smallest child in the 7th grade I wasn’t very popular. Most of the time, I was the subject of ridicule and torment by the bigger boys and even girls. Yet here when I finished reading my first composition to the class even the teacher was surprised. She was wondering if I wrote the story all by myself.
“What do you mean?” I asked; “Who else could have written it?” It didn’t look like anything special to me it was just something that happened to me a few years ago. The impact on the rest of the class was like a shot of adrenalin to me. I decided to try writing more but being a kid like most kids it didn’t happen until I was at my 30s, and even now at over 60 I am still taking my time writing my stories.

    Stick around, maybe you would like my next stories too.

***

In The Army
1957
    Uncle Rone gave me a big toy gun for my second birthday. Then the next day he took me with him to the army camp. It was his last day in the army, so he and his friend, Uncle Simon, decided to take me with them to Tel Aviv to celebrate their discharge and my birthday.

    We drove in Uncle Simon's new car a secondhand Studebaker. I know because Uncle Simon let me drive. I sat on his lap and held the wheel all the way from Beer Sheva to Tel Aviv. (I am a good driver. I can drive and eat at the same time. Sometimes I let go of the wheel and the car drives straight without my help.) Uncle Rone bought me for the road a “Choco” drink and “Yoffy Yoffy” - a delicious fried dough dipped in sugar, and I love it.

    On the way, (which was a long way, because we left when the small hand was on 9 and the big hand was on 12, and we got to Tel Aviv when the small hand was at 11 and the big hand was at 9) we saw the new “Moshavim”, new farm settlements with small white houses and big backyards. They were scattered all along the dry land. I saw the tall sprinklers spraying water, chik, chik, chik, chik, thrrrrr, to wet the land. I saw the farmers planting fruit trees that will give fruit in five years. (I don't know if I could wait so long.)

"Look!” I said “Ducks!"
"You look at the road when you drive!" Uncle Rone said with a smile on his face.
They were so cute, a mother duck and many baby duckies walking behind her in a long line, all waddling from side to side. (I wish we had ducks. All we had were chickens, but Uncle Robert had ducks, and sometimes, he let me play with them when I went to visit Meme (grandma) Julie.)

    Then we saw the Bedouins. Now, these are interesting people. They live in big tents which they move with them anywhere they go. They fold the tents and load them on their tall camels, and then they go to a new grazing ground for their goats and sheep. You can tell a Bedouin by his clothing. The men wear “Galabia” - a long robe and a “Kaffia” on their head with a black rope around it to hold it down. They call it “Aaggal”. The women wear black dresses covering them from head to toe. I don't know how they see anything through that.

    When we arrived in Tel Aviv, we stopped for “falafel,” fried chickpea balls in a pita with salad. I was a good boy and ate the whole half pita. From there we went to the army camp.

    At the camp I saw the big army trucks, a cannon, and a very big tank.
"They're only for display" explained Uncle Rone. "This is not a fighting camp. We come here to register or to be dismissed."
We entered a big room where I saw many solders waiting in lines, a long lines.
"Uncle Rone," I said in French.
"What?"
  "When are we going home?"
  "Soon, after those three people, then it'll be our turn and we can go."
  "But I have to go to the bathroom."
  "You're a big boy now. You can go by yourself. It's right at the end of the hall."
  "O.K."

    So I went, like a big boy, by myself. But when I entered the bathroom, I didn't know what to do. The toilet seat was not there. Instead there was an odd - looking porcelain plate with a hole in the back and two raised ovals, one on each side. It was all dirty and scary. I couldn't go there, and I just remembered that I didn't exactly know how to wipe. It was always Mom who helped me with that.  I returned to my uncle and said in French, "I can't go there. It's dirty, and I'm afraid I'll fall in the hole."

    Now Uncle Rone was next in line, and he didn't want to lose the spot so he said, "Why don't you ask Uncle Simon to go with you? He's done now and he can do it."
Uncle Simon didn't speak French, so I had to tell him in Hebrew. "Uncle Simon," I said. By now my stomach really hurt and I felt that if I didn't hurry, I'd go in my pants. "You have to come with me now to the bathroom to clean it and help me out because I have to go right now. Come on, let's go, please, I can't hold it anymore." I guess I said it pretty loud because I saw everybody turning to look at us.

    Uncle Simon was very embarrassed and said, "Shshh, not too loud. Everybody is listening. “Well, if you think that Uncle Simon was embarrassed, you have no idea what embarrassed really is! I couldn't hold it anymore and I had that terrible accident.
Uncle Simon not only had to clean the bathroom, he had to help get me cleaned, and Uncle Rone had to buy me a new pair of underwear.

***

Mom's

    Now let me introduce you to Mom's family. First, there is Nono - Grandpa. His name is Victor Haim Krihef, but we all call him Nono. You know, my middle name is after him, my first name is after my other grandfather who died many years ago. Anyway, then there is Meme July - Grandma. Her oldest son is Uncle Albert. He is married to Aunt Dolly, and they have two children, Yudit who is two years older than I, and Haim who is one year younger than I. The next in line is Aunt Marie. She is the one that calls me “Young Boy” all the time. She is married to Uncle Mirro. They always fight and they have two children, Vivi and Ines. Then comes Uncle Robert. I like Uncle Robert. He is tall, with red hair, and he's a handsome guy. Uncle Robert is about to join the army. He has a motorcycle and all kind of animals: chickens, pigeons, ducks, a goat, and a big black dog, Jimbo. Mom is the next in line. Somehow, she became the sister who takes care of everyone. She helped cleaning the house and cooked for everyone. I am not sure how are they doing without her now – her being my Mom and not at Meme's house.

    Uncle David is one year younger than Mom. He is her favorite brother. Now he is just finishing high school at the agricultural school in Bait Shemesh. He is a shepherd, and he plays the recorder. Beautiful Aunt Rachael comes after Uncle David, and the last one is Uncle Moris, or Uncle Moshe. That's what he wants to be called. He's got lots of nice things, but I'm not allowed to touch them. Nobody is allowed to touch his things.

***