My mother and father's parents were immigrants. My wife's mother and father were immigrants. Guess what folks, we (and all of our aliya - olim brethren) are immigrants, also. It's kind of like what goes around comes around.....but the fact is that this is the (unstressed, unpublicized) Aliya experience. Moving from somewhere, ostensibly some home-land, and now trying to integrate yourself in a new society. Ok, so we know why we're here, and that goes a long way. Emigrating on one's own instead of being expelled is a bit different but still, especially when your parnassah (cash to survive) options are a no match to the younger-native population. Doctors, Chemists, Information System Anaylsts, accomplished professionals often "give it up" to come and work as telemarketers, clerks, underpaid professionals, and even security guards and maintenance men. (Some people even start internet radio stations, but we know that's not for profit!). So, I have joined the ranks of the immigrants. And now I've even joined the ranks of the gainfully employed (bli ayin harah)immigrant, physically working for a living. And you know, even if it's manual labor, I'm happy to be able to contribute to the rent. But suddenly, with achy muscles and chapped hands i realize that I am an immigrant. How do I feel about that? I don't know yet -- it just hit me (4 years later) -- but i think it's worth exploring.
You want to explore with me? Cookin' for Shabbos is the place to be -- Tonight, Thursday at 10:00 PM, let's leave home and arrive at the Promised Land, together.
C Ya On the Radio!