You can never go home again

Someone sent this link (see bottom of post) to me yesterday and when I read it I had the strongest sense of melancholy I have experienced in a long time. I grew up 12 miles from Glace Bay, in the bustling city of Sydney, Nova Scotia. (Take that description with a grain of salt please.)

And exactly as the story reports, we were all raised to get an education and leave. I did and so did almost every Jewish kid I knew.

After I finished graduate school I went to work for Stelco in Hamilton, Ontario, which at the time was Canada's largest steel manufacturer. As the junior writer I was excited when I was invited to join the Communications team at a steel tradeshow in Toronto. While I was on a break from my duties during the show I decided to have a look around. I came across the booth for the Sydney steel plant, Sysco, and I, being a 100% Cape Bretoner in my heart (in not my physicality) stopped to say hello.

The CEO of Sysco just happened to be there at the same time. He asked me my name which I enthusiastically offered up because I was a proud Cape Bretoner. Of course he knew my father which was not surprising firstly because Cape Breton has a small professional community and my father was one of the more senior members at that point. And secondly because I came from a large family that was known far and wide in those parts.

Then he asked me where I went to university and what I had done there. I proudly gave him the abbreviated story of my BA and my MA, and how I was now working for Stelco in Hamilton. To me, that made us sort of kindred spirits. Ha.

Mr. CEO just stood there looking at me and then he pretty much exploded: "This is precisely the problem with your people," he said. 'You are encouraged to get a good education but you never bring your skills and knowledge back to Cape Breton where it is so sorely needed.' (I am paraphrasing because this happened in 1985.)

I tried to explain that Jewish young people have to go where there are other Jewish young people if we are going to perpetuate our people. And Cape Breton was definitely not that place. But frankly, he didn't want to hear anymore. He just sort of walked away. And I was left standing there feeling like dirt -- and on some small level, rightfully so. He wasn't Jewish and he didn't get the Jewish thing.

Anyway, after reading this article in the National Post, I can't help but think back on that moment. I love my life in Israel and I have no regrets, but there is a tiny piece of me that will always feel 100% Cape Breton.



http://life.nationalpost.com/2010/08/02/closure-of-cape-breton’s-oldest-synagogue-marks-end-of-era/

Where do I come from?

A few days ago as I was leaving the grocery store, the guy at the entrance who checks your bill to make sure you didn't steal the entire cart of groceries you are trying to force out the front doors of the supermarket, stamped my bill and said, have a nice day. And when I answered him in my splendido hebrew, he innocently asked me the ultimate existential question: Where did you come from?

I don't think he meant it to be an existential question and my first reaction was to say "Canada." Well, I did come from Canada. However, after I put all my groceries into the car and started to drive away, it struck me that that was a really simplistic answer.

Where did I come from?

Well, for the first 18 years of my so-called life I saw myself strictly as a Cape Bretoner. Not a Nova Scotian -- that would have been too broad a definition and the rest of the province seemed like an unnecessary extension of my island (when in fact, it was the exact opposite). I definitely not see myself as a Canadian -- the concept of Canada was just too big and it had nothing to do with my day-to-day life.

For all intents and purposes I was a 100% born and bred Cape Bretoner -- and that was a great source of pride and identity for me. If I had one regret, it was that my ancestors were neither native Cape Bretoners nor of Scottish descent. And in Sydney, where I grew up, many people referred to us as "your people" ... that meant Jewish in polite Cape Breton terms.

Overall, I had no complaints. Other than a few colourful anti-semitic moments, it was a great childhood and I only have good memories.

When I left home to go to university at 18, I moved to Hamilton, Ontario. I lived there for four years but never once felt like a Hamiltonian. I did, however, like Hamilton, because, like Sydney, it was a steel town and I was comfortable among the steelworking public.

After Hamilton I moved to Syracuse, New York and after a year and a half there I still felt like an alien. Americans and Canadians may share a very long and open border, but trust me when I say that Americans are nothing like Canadians -- and definitely nothing like Cape Bretoners. While I made some wonderful friends there, I could never have imagined my life south of the 49th parallel. Nope. Never. Yeesh. So much so that I ended up back in Hamilton armed with a master's degree and I went to work for one of the steel companies. And while I loved Hamilton, I never saw myself there long term.

Next, I moved to Toronto. I lived there so long that you would think that I eventually connected with the city. Well, it never happened. After 15 years in that city, I still couldn't wait to leave it.

One thing that did occur during all those years out of Cape Breton is that eventually I saw myself more as an Ontarian, with a hint of Canadian stuck in for show. I slowly lost most of my Cape Breton accent (notice that I said "most") and became a big city chick.

Then came the pivotal point in my life -- at 40 -- that my Israel-born, Toronto-raised husband decided that we should pack up and move to Israel. Without repeating all the details, I was less-than-thrilled-but-willing-to-be-cooperative. Fast forward eight years and as you all know, I love living here. So much so that I dislike traveling to Canada for anything ... except perhaps a quick trip to Walmart.

I really do believe that this is the best place in the world to be Jewish. And my Jewish self hates to be anywhere else. The problem is that this has caused a gigantic identity crisis for me. I didn't know that until my most recent trip to Cape Breton for my father's gravestone unveiling. The people who were there are the people I have known all of my life. They knew me from day one and most of them knew my parents years before they knew each other. These people are my roots. There are many things that I do not have to explain to them; we have the same shared experience -- particularly the Jewish ones because it is a tricky balancing act to be a Jew in the non-Jewish wilderness.

All of which brings me to my existential crisis. Where do I come from? Honestly, I don't think I could answer that question even if I wanted to. And I really do want to. All I can come up with is that I come from a little bit of many places and a lot of none.

I forgot how small minded they were

A few days ago I wrote a letter to the editor of the Cape Breton Post. That is the newspaper in the town where I grew up. They had published an article about that British MK Galloway who was denied entry into Canada because he was so anti-Israel and so very pro-Hamas. Blindy so, I would say.

Okay, so someone sent me the article and I felt compelled to write what I thought was a very reasonable letter to the editor. Well, as it turns out, I couldn't have been more wrong.

I first found out that my letter was published when I received an email from my cousin Mark this morning. He was proud of me. Later, I spoke to my mother who in her subtly sarcastic way told me that her friends from Cape Breton had called to report that I was published. They were also pleased.

So far so good.

Oh don't worry, the good news ends there. I will tell you who wasn't pleased. The myopic, backwater people of Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia.

People wrote in and accused me of the craziest things. I think I may be arrested when I return there for my father's grave stone installation ceremony later this year. If my blog entries stop abruptly in October you will be able to find me sitting in the city jail in Sydney, Nova Scotia.

At first I just wanted to rebut everything each one of them said. And then, as I started to write, it dawned on me that I wasting my energy. These people are so small minded that they can't even consider another point-of-view. I even suggested that they not take my word for what I said, but rather, get on a plane and come see for themselves (Actually, I am trying to single-handedly boost the tourism numbers in Israel this year. I get a cut, of course.).

How reasonable can you get? Don't bother answering that. The answer is that when you support Israel, you can never be reasonable enough.

The strangest thing is that as I read their utterly ridiculous come-backs, I was overwhelmed with memories of what it was like to grow up as a Jewish kid in a backwater town. Most of those people had never left the province, let alone the country. I am sure not one of them has ever seen the inside of a museum. Yet, they know it all and what they know is that Jews are bad and nothing we say in support of Israel could possibly be true.

The one good thing that came out of it is that someone took the time to google me and that was good for my blog ranking and my Ezine readership. Wait until they find out that they were supporting the Worldwide Zionist Cabal when they did that! Oh that's going to be a great laugh.

God's Country

I was born and raised in Sydney, Nova Scotia. And I spent the better part of my seventeen years there believing that I lived in a special place. Actually, I was told that in no uncertain terms by pretty much every adult I knew; Nova Scotia and more specifically, Cape Breton Island, was God’s Country. Everyone in Cape Breton called it God’s Country and I never doubted it.

If you have ever driven over Smoky Mountain on the way to the Cabot Trail, you have seen its natural beauty for yourself. And if you made it as far as Cape North on a sunny day, you may have actually seen a piece of heaven.

Or so I thought.

Then seven years ago I moved to Israel, which is considered by millions of people worldwide to be God's Country.

Hence the dilemma. Where precisely is God's Country?

Yes, Israel is part of the cradle of civilization. Cape Breton surely is not because the people who live there are generally adverse to civilized living. When they desire moments of civility.... they get on a plane and go somewhere else to find it. Then they go home.

Cape Bretoners are not particularly interested in progress and modernization. They like things just as they are (and as they have always been). Not like Israel, which is considered by many to be the next largest concentration of high-tech brain power outside of Silicon Valley in California.

Is it possible that God has two homes -- His winter abode in Israel and when the weather gets too hot here, He shifts to his northern summer home in Cape Breton? If I were Him, I would pick that option. Why upset the Cape Bretoners who think they have a piece of Him when He can just as easily shift location in the summer?

There is one advantage to Cape Breton that I think Israelis would actually like. Cape Breton is all but completely ignored by the outside world. No one there is in a hurry to go anywhere or do anything. And no superpowers are giving them instructions on how to live their lives. There are no katusha missiles aimed at its population. Cape Bretoners never worry about their kindergartens being blown up or getting on a bus (yes, there are buses in Cape Breton).

Something about all that peacefulness makes you really wonder if it might actually be God's Country.

I don't think that the snow or the everlasting cold are working in Cape Breton's favour, but what do I know? Maybe tobogganing and skiing are holy experiences. Of course, maybe sitting on the beach in Netanya or overlooking the Negev as the sun is coming up are as well.

The people who choose to live on the edges of Cape Breton -- literally in the middle of nowhere -- do so to be alone. (They must; I can't for the life of me think of another reason why they would move to a cold, perpetually damp, rocky cliff on the edge of the sea. They could fall in.)

People who move to the outer parts of Israel do so to inhabit those places and secure them as Jewish land. These Israelis are securing the frontiers of this tiny state – not militarily, but emotionally. The exact opposite of the Cape Breton logic.
The people who live at the outer reaches of Israel are not trying to get away from civilization. Many of them made conscious decisions to play an active role in populating the outer reaches of the country. I see them as Israel’s remaining pioneers.


Both places have lots of beautiful mountains and vistas. But just over Israel's mountains live some of the least friendly neighbours anyone could ask for. If you look too far over the edge of a mountain in Cape Breton you will be swimming with the whales -- Cape Breton doesn't really have any neighbours and even if it did... how could you not love a Cape Bretoner?

So you can see the dilemma. Where exactly is God’s country?

I am rather nervous to vote for one place over the other. Both are holy in their own ways to me.