Walking with Dad

It was my first day back in Jerusalem.  I figured Dad had not left the apartment in something like two weeks.  I suggested a walk.  "Dad, you're becoming a couch potato, let's take a walk.  You'll feel like a million dollars."   He refused.  Too cold outside.  Hasn't got any colds since being indoors.  Safer.  "Com'on Dad, get dressed,....".  I tend to push.  My sister Rimona tends to discuss.  Sometimes that gets me in trouble.

We went.  The moment we stepped into the sunlight, his face beamed a big smile.  He was slow, but he negotiated the steps, the sidewalk, even crossing the street, on his own.  Ok, you might think I should hold his arm.  Well, you'll get quite the rebuke if you do.  Better to let him demonstrate his strength and determination.

We cross the street, sit on a bench in the sun.  There he could stay all day.  It is the sun, more than the walk, that draws him.  I suggest we step into the Sephardi shul by the corner.  We take seats in the sanctuary.  It is Sephardi, so the bimah is in the center.  The roof is a large rotunda filled with indirect natural light, soft blue.  Hardly anyone else is around.  I read to Dad some of the biblical text that is artfully hung on the walls.  Dad is quite secular, but likes to hear the words.  Then I see the aliyah blessing for coming up to the Torah.  I chant the blessing in the traditional melody.  Dad finishes chanting the blessing - "noten haTora-ah".