It began with a realization:
The ISS is almost over. It was time to go home. It was time to go back to New
Jersey, back to familiar, back to the real world. For me, it happened on Monday
night. It was 11:30 p.m., and Peleg and I arrived home at curfew right when
were supposed to. After hanging out on the Rishon beach with our Diller
friends, I couldn’t help but to think of what a great time we just had. It was
nothing special, just talking, walking on the sand, eating chicken wings, but
it was with good friends and it was fun.
“We should do this again
tomorrow night”, I thought to myself. Then I remembered we couldn’t, tomorrow
was the farewell dinner.
“Well how about the night
after?” I thought again. The night after most of us would be in our own beds,
in our own homes, with our non-Israeli parents.
What? That’s it? I need more
Israel, I need more beach, more chicken wings, more jokes, more time. Even the
thought of bringing sand in my suitcase and making a beach on the plane did
nothing to cheer me up. (Well, maybe it did cheer me up a little, but that’s
beside the point).
I went to Peleg and I told
him we were not sleeping tonight. I went upstairs, brushed my teeth, and in a
second I was passed out in bed. When I woke up, I discovered that my plan for
an all-nighter had failed, miserably. Yet there was a silver lining, for in
that moment of complete and utter disappointment, I had an epiphany. Ding. This
trip wasn’t about epic halo tournaments and water melon eating contests and
late night beach parties, this was about experiencing Israel with your friends,
and I didn’t need to push my body to the limits to prove it. I realized that
even though there were only two days left, Diller wasn’t over and I was going
to make the best of it.
That Tuesday morning we all
gathered at the Garden of Leaders for our last day of programming. The plan was
to learn about the leaders represented in the garden, Herzl, Rabin, Ben-Gurion,
and others, and then come up with leaders of our own whom we thought should be
represented.
We dragged through the
morning and at noon, we took a walk to the community center for lunch and more
activities. Even though the walk was short (about 15 minutes) and we were
following a group of 30 people, my friend Eric and I still managed to get lost.
After asking 5 different old ladies where the community center was, we managed
to find our way back home. It turns out that we over shot the community center
by a whopping 30 feet. Perhaps retracing our steps would have worked better in
this situation, but asking the old ladies was far more interesting.
Once inside, we had another workshop: the sixth leg of the Jewish table,
part B. Avraham Infeld would have been proud of our legginess as we discussed
the issues of family, memory, covenant, language, Israel, and our optional
sixth leg. After much thought, insight, and extended metaphors involving
tables, legs, and bilateral planes, we had worked up quite an appetite.
Luckily, the last Diller lunch was falafel and one of the best, even if I was
tricked into eating ice cream mixed with hummus. (Thanks Marisa).
Filled with fried chick peas and pita, we split into Israelis and Americans
for the Final Ma’agal. The Americans were treated to Meditation with Max, and
those of us who stayed awake for it dove into the deep crevices of our
subconscious.
Next, Sarah Resnick, as leader of the day, prepared an awesome activity for
us. She had Lee-Dubs write notes to our fellow Dillers. Leah would read a
prompt, such as “What was the funniest moment you had one this trip” or “What
did you appreciate about someone”, and we would write a note directly to that
person. When we were finished, we put each note in the corresponding Diller’s
envelope, and I’m proud to say that everyone’s envelope became very, very, fat.
By the end of the activities it was 4:30 in the afternoon, time to rest
before our big farewell dinner. Rachel Forman, being the incredible caring,
compassionate, person that she is, began to tear up at the thought of leaving
for a few hours. Nobody could blame her for it; we know in a few hours we would
be doing the same.
At the Oscar themed farewell party, everyone was looking great. I was
rocking a t-shirt, khakis, and a bright red “South Park” tie which I felt
earned me the award for best dressed of the night.
Sarah Resnick and Yuval Dafadi were our hosts for the night, and we got
hear from some great speakers such as the head of the municipality of Rishon,
Co-Director of the Diller Teen Fellows Program and the head of the Youth
Department. Another highlight was listening to Anais, Eric, Dar, Ori, and
BenSal sing and play piano for the crowd, and they were so good that I think I
cried when they hit the high notes. After a quick montage of the Amazing Diller
Race the day before, our hosts commenced awarding Oscars. Some notables: Zach
Broder won the funniest Diller, Julian won the most patient, Alex and Marisa
won most energetic. (I got the most honest, but I think I deserved the one for
longest blog writer). Following the awards, we were given full, fragile,
ceramic flower pots to give to our host families, and surprisingly, the only
person to break one was our Israeli coordinator Keren. 
To end the night, all the Dillers gathered for one final Achim dance. (For
those who don’t know, the Achim dance is a Metro-Lezion tradition where we all
gather in a circle to dance and chant). Though we had done the dance many,
many, many times before, this time there was a palpable difference. We locked arms
and we stomped our feet, and the floor shook with each footstep. It became our
heartbeat, one heartbeat for one family.
“I said let me see your Achim Dance!”
“What did you say?”
With every verse of the song our voices swelled louder and stronger. When it
finally came to the chorus, we could barely contain ourselves. We bounded
around the circle, jumping and spinning and yelling and dancing all at once. It
was a moment none of us wanted to end.
When the event was concluded, we all agreed to meet back at Cinema City to
chill. We ate some burgers at Moishes, went shopping, and Nick and I paid
thirty shekels to have fish eat our feet. (It was sooo weird). It wasn’t
anything special, but like at the beach, it didn’t have to be; we were
together.
I woke up the next morning and it was time for the final goodbyes. Peleg’s
dad, Eilan, made me the usual iced coffee and pita, and as usual, it was
delicious. I said good-bye to the rest of Peleg’s family, and we were on our
way to the bus stop.
I know this may sound a little heartless, but at first the bus stop was
kinda funny. Not everyone was there yet, so I decided I wasn’t going to give
anyone hugs until everyone was present. That way, I would start crying at the
opportune moment so that it didn’t seem weird. I stood there awkwardly debating
whether or not it was the right time to begin the hug-process, but in the end,
I just wound up hugging everyone anyway, problem solved.
It was sad; there were a lot
of tears and a lot of promises to stay in touch. I hope I can keep them all.
Once all the bags were on the bus, we were reluctantly herded inside, and we
left. That was it. The ISS was officially over.
As I write this Blog 30,000 feet above sea level trapped between a crying
baby and a snoring lady from Phoenix, I have the sudden urge to read the fat
envelope with my name on it. I pour the notes onto my tray top table and begin
to read. Memories come back that were forgotten, and for a moment, I’m not
stuck in crowded smelly airplane; I’m back in Rishon Lezion, eating chicken
wings with my friends and walking on the beach.
-Noah Lisser
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