Just below my apartment building is a spectacular park.  At one end, under a canopy, are swings and obstacles for the children.  Just next to that is an outdoor gym.  Ok, it’s not Gold’s, but it’s free and it’s fun and people enjoy it.  There is also a fenced in area for dogs (because Israel is also trying to keep up with the latest trends).  There are many trees that provide a bit of respite from the oppressive heat Israel is known for and on both ends of the park one can find many shops, bakeries and restaurants.  My children know exactly where the ice cream and popsicles are sold.  They always seem to kick the ball in that direction, praying that I will buy them some simply because the ball landed in front of the shop.

The park also has benches where people can sit, rest and people watch (my favorite).  The bench closest to my apartment is the preferred resting spot for my wife.  She and my sister in law meet there daily, after fetching all of the children from school.  The children are free to run, play and roam around while my wife and sister in law catch up on the day’s events.

One afternoon I ventured down to meet them and sitting on the bench next to my wife were two older gentlemen.  My children were far off playing with their cousins.  One of the men looked up and said to me upon my arrival, “You must be the father!  We love your children!”.  Immediately, due to his broken Hebrew and heavy accent, I knew he was an immigrant from the former Soviet Union.  The other gentleman also greeted me with a nice “hello”.  He, too, had an accent and it turns out he is originally from India.

My children caught sight of me from afar and immediately began running towards me.  Before they embraced me, however, they noticed the two wise men sitting on the benches, who by now, were standing up, arms out, ready to greet them.  My children really did know them and they really did like them!

My youngest son immediately approached them with his ball and these two men began tossing the ball around with him.  My middle and oldest said hello and told them about what they were doing on the opposite end of the park.  I had to interject for a minute, feeling a bit jealous of these strangers, to kindly remind my children to come and give me a hug and a kiss.

Then I took a step back and watched.  I watched my children, true Israelis, interacting with these seniors and felt proud.  I was proud that even at such a young age, my children didn’t care that these men were old.  They didn’t care that they had thick, heavy accents.  They didn’t care that they were missing some teeth and walked with a limp (which can be quite scary for young children).  They just cared that they were people, in their park and wanted to play with them.