Home > Uncategorized > If It’s in a Picture, It Must Be True!

If It’s in a Picture, It Must Be True!

Every now and then we experience something that calls up memories from long ago. When the memories are pleasant, we like to call that “nostalgia”—even when those memories come from a time when there was no internet. (Yes, I’m old enough to remember such a time. Rub it in, why don’t you?) A while back, my old friend Hillel Fuld (@HilzFuld) inadvertently reminded me of an event that occurred … 18 years ago?! NO, WAY! THAT CAN’T BE RIGHT! [checks date] Oh, man! I’m getting old!

This whole event started quite innocently, as most events do. It was a Sunday afternoon, and I was meeting a couple of friends to go out to dinner. We met up at Ayala Gross’s house. Back then, Ayala’s mother, Netty, wrote for The Jerusalem Post. As it turned out, Netty—who was writing an article on the effects of aliyah on teenagers—had scheduled a photo shoot for that afternoon, and needed her daughter to be in that shoot. “Don’t worry,” Ayala said, “we’ll still be able to go to dinner. We just have to detour for this first.” “No problem,” I said, and hopped in the car.

The photo shoot ended up being done on the top of the world-famous King David Hotel. To this day, I still don’t know why that location was chosen. Secretly, I think it was chosen for one reason: There was no escape. Anyway, once everyone got up to the roof and the photographer started setting up, Ayala turned to me and said, “Oh, by the way, you have to be in the picture.” Stunned, I looked at her and stammered, “Um … err … WHAT?!” “Please don’t be mad at me!” she said, “My mom doesn’t have enough guys for the picture and she really needs you to be in it.” I fled to the edge of the roof and looked down. It was a long way down. But there was a pool! Alas, there was no way the pool was deep enough. Sighing, I joined the group.

Now, I want you all to understand that I didn’t mind being in the picture. I actually had a good time being there. I was just bothered that I was never asked to do it. Also, I had a feeling that as harmless as it was, there was some way this was going to come back to haunt me. Damn you foreshadowing!

Several weeks later, the article was printed. I went to town to grab a bite to eat before heading over to my football league game. Everywhere I went, people were smiling at me, waving, and congratulating me. “How does it feel to be famous?” one person asked me. “Can I have your autograph?” another league player joked. I laughed and joked around with them, but inside I thought, “And so it starts.”

It wasn’t long before I started hearing from friends who said their family had seen the article in the international edition of the paper, and were wondering when I had made aliyah. The next time I spoke to my grandmother, she mentioned the article as well. Finally, a month after it was published, I received the call I was dreading.

“When were you going to tell me you made aliyah? I have to read about it in a newspaper?!” my mother asked (in a rather hysterical manner). So, I told her the whole story of what happened. When I finished, she didn’t believe me—even though she told me she did. It figured. Eventually, it took my coming home in the Summer to convince her.

Ah, nostalgia!

Categories: Uncategorized
  1. January 2, 2012 at 6:08 pm

    Oh my gosh, you both look so sweet! Haha, funny story though. I am forever grateful to Netty for this! Look at you two! WHO WANTS HUGS?!?!?

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