Blog About Jordan Day 3/12/08

I sometimes wish that I could travel back in time. I think everyone has this wish at one point or another in their lives. Whether they want to go back and redo something or choose an alternate path in which to take their life. For me, it would be to go back and really see from whence I came and meet those who I missed the chance to really get to know.

I left Jordan before there was a Queen Alia International Airport, when Royal Jordanian was known as Alia, and probably a few years after phone service was available. I don’t recall the journey to New York’s JFK, but I know my mom had a really difficult trip. In tow were three kids, ranging from just under 4 years old all the way down to two weeks old. Years later, she told me she was going to turn around and just go home, just to teach my dad a lesson. To this day I don’t know how she did it, but she’s put up with my dad since then.

I have faint memories of my short time in Jordan before we departed. I remember layouts of rooms and homes of both sets of grandparents…but that is about it. I remember an old lady at my mom’s house (who I later learned what my mom’s grandmother) who had the green checkerboard tattooed chin. She would beg me for kisses, but I wouldn’t give her one because I was so grossed out by the green ink on her face. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to know my mom’s parents. My dear grandma died a few weeks after I was born and my grandfather died 7 years later, long before I had the chance to make it back to Jordan. I never got to know them and I feel cheated by that. My dad’s mom let me tell ya, what a woman she was. I only got a chance to see her a few times after we’d left. She sadly passed away in 2000. But everyone in the community knew her, and she earned the respect and admiration of many, my mom included. Yes, my mom loved her mother in law and they were dear friends. My only surviving grandparent is my dad’s dad. And what a character he is. Early on, he worked traveling between Haifa, Jerusalem and Amman, buying and selling things. At least that is how he explained it to me in his broken English and what I could understand with my poor command of Arabic. I should ask him again about his “first” job….get the real scoop. Later on, he inherited land from his father and it was planted with hundreds of olive trees, which to this day still stand.

That farm is the one place in the world that no matter where I am, I can be there in an instant! Thousands of miles away, I just close my eyes and I can hear the wind singing, feel myself lying atop the rocky soil, see the green olive tree branches swaying and the golden wheat fields dancing, smell the ripe peaches, and of course taste the dust as I lick my lips. I tell you, there is no other place in the world like it.

And there is no other place in the world like Jordan. There was a time when everyone knew everyone, when people would leave their doors unlocked, when kids could play in the street and parents not have to worry about their wellbeing, when people genuinely cared about one another, and when generations and generations of families build lasting relationships. It still amazes me when the old hajji on the other end of town, remembers what a kind and gentle giant your Jiddo Mohammed was. And others tell stories about how your Jiddeh Badia was so progressive for her time and the trailblazer she was. They instantly recognize my mom or any of her sisters, and embrace them like long lost sisters. How your Jiddo Hussein is stopped by everyone as you two go buy falafel early each morning and 10 minute journey takes three times as long. How your Jiddeh Amneh, always cared for the less fortunate, sharing what God blessed her with, with those who had so little. This is the Jordan I choose to remember.

In me, I see so much of the same traits others noticed in my grandparents. I am truly honored to carry on their legacies and live life the way they lived theirs. No matter how many years or what distance separates me from my country, I know that Jordan will always be a part of who I am. And every time I look into the mirror, and look deeply into my own eyes, I will know from whence I came.

God bless and protect my beloved Jordan.