Shalom from Jerusalem ! I'm here in the Holy City and as chalk full of ridiculous musings as I always am; probably more. I made it here in one piece, but my personal effects seemed determined to make it here in pieces, if they made it here at all.
When we got on to the bus at the Tel Aviv that would take us to our new home on Mount Scopus (i.e. the part of the journey where you're supposed to explode with excitement), I looked around as people started whipping out the cameras to take really excellent pictures of Tel Aviv highway and realized my own point-and-shoot was missing.
I frantically tore through my backpack that was full of stuff I wasn't sure I would even need but completely void of that essential. I looked everywhere, but despite my best efforts, I spent my first 20 minutes in one the oldest and most fantastic cities in the world in the director's office, getting in touch with the JFK airport lost and found and weeping like a schlemiel.
It wasn't even that big a deal, but I still spent the following minutes out on the terrace of the Jerusalem Center taking in one of the breathtaking sights in the world, all the while heaving out big salty tears like some cartoon character. I realized just how big a deal it wasn't when I was talking to one of the center's service missionaries and she said; “It's a good thing it wasn't very expensive; you're probably only out 300 or 400 dollars.” That camera was $99; maybe. Here I am weeping like I've lost a limb, and the only real loss is the four pictures that were on it.
In the two days leading up to my arrival in Jerusalem , I lost (on separate occasions) my license, my social security card, my credit card, my checkbook, and my camera. Oh, also a bottle of sunscreen. All were recovered except the camera, but I still feel like a schmoe for being that absent-minded.
I thought regrets were bad, but regrets, when you are determined to place yourself as the root of the grief, are so much worse. I never thought that a singing bass would be my salvation; but the fish is right “don't worry be happy” is the only way to find two minutes of peace or self-satisfaction in this life. The camera is still missing, but it is being taken care of, and I can't let my frustration with my own silliness color the joy of this trip for which I've been waiting my whole life.
You spend most of high school sitting around with friends complaining and ‘woe is me'-ing, while someone makes that central activity enjoyable. But college has made me realize that I appreciate the people that respond to my bellyaching by saying “don't be self-destructive” rather than “I know, right?” So now that I've decided to adopt the mantra of the singing bass, I want to be the friend to you that I love to find in others and say; don't be self-destructive, it isn't worth the time or the energy--and Jerusalem is out there waiting if you'll just forget the bargain bucket camera and live.
