When I Feel Like My Grandpa

Recently I have felt a little bit like my grandpa, and here’s why.

This Yom Kippur, I decided to spend the holiday with my sister in Kfar Saba with family. Instead of going straight to Kfar Saba from Kibbutz Erez, I decided to take a little detour to Jerusalem. Since my sister just arrived in Israel, and is new to the whole public transportation system, I decided to make the trek easier for her by traveling together.

Living on the Kibbutz, with all its benefits and excitements, is hard in many ways. Leaving the Kibbutz for anything, without a car, has been nearly impossible. This means that whenever I need to buy something, I can’t just walk down the street or drive around the corner to get it. Instead, every moment I am outside of the Kibbutz and in a civilian area, I always think to myself what I need, because I may not be able to get it for a while.

As Yom Kippur break was approaching, I knew I needed two new pairs of shoes and a pair of pants. And, since I was planning on coming to Jerusalem anyway, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get everything I needed before the chag.

On Yom Kippur eve, at 5:30 in the morning, I woke up and started my long journey to Jerusalem. When I arrived, I found a shoe store on Aggripas street, bound to have everything I need.

While inside, and while at the store next door where I got my pants, I found myself asking ״יש הנחה לחיילים בודדים?״, or in English “is there a discount for lone soldiers?” And this is where I felt like my grandpa.

Since I could remember, before my grandpa ever takes out his wallet, he always asks if a place gives a discount to “disabled Korean War veterans.” When he served in the US military during the Korean War, he was stationed in Germany and got into a small jeep accident. While small, and while not in Korea, this still, at least to him, entitles him to a discount on his $1.29 morning coffee.

So, while not even a lone soldier yet, but simply just a new immigrant trying to buy some new shoes, asking for a discount may not make the most sense, but to my grandpa it does.

While he might be milking this discount thing after 70 years, I guess I am entitled to milk it before even enlisting. I guess I am entitled to, or maybe the thought that I am just might make me into my grandfather. But who cares, the guy gave me 30 shekels off anyway, so I guess there‘s no reason to stop!

*Sunrise at 6:30 on Yom Kippur eve