Do click on these pictures, travel through them closeup, sabra by sabra. Here is the shore where my mother's aunt and uncle waded out to boats bringing Jewish survivors home. Hamapilim, not allowed in to their own home by the British, though for two thousand years they had sung of return, dreamed and prayed and planned return. golda and Moshe would bring them in, feed them oranges, baskets and baskets of oranges to people for whom, as I.L.Peretz wrote, an orange was a family affair, a rare treat shared with all the children and grandchildren. Oranges and oranges. Great grandchildren of these arriving survivors now surf and sip caffe under bright beach umbrellas, and we bring touring families in a shining white landcruiser, welcome them into our villa with a big bowl of oranges.
My mouth is watering!
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