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100facesof.me

Day 37 of 100

Tight crop on a man's gray bearded chin and mouth above a heather t-shirt, face dimly lit against black.
Day 37 / 100 Weight 349.1 (-0 lb) Exhausted Hasselblad 503CW+CFV II 80mm f/4 1/60 ISO200

“Mom, it’s just what I wanted.”

The simple plastic landline phone sat next to the wrapping paper I had pulled it out of. I had just turned 13, was back from Israel and was having a small birthday party with some friends.

When I turned 13, my parents gave me the option of having a Bar Mitzvah or going to Israel for 3 months to live with my grandparents. Given a Bar Mitzvah involved studying and Israel involved a plane the choice was easy.

There was only one catch. I had to pay for half of the plane ticket. I had worked since nine when I started a business getting all the kids in the neighborhood to mow lawns for me, so I wasn’t afraid of the work. Nor was I afraid of the $1,054 plane ticket that I had to help pay to acquire. And over a few months, I made the money to help buy that ticket and I spent the summer outside Tel Aviv hanging out with kids my age and traveling around Israel seeing all of the sights. It was amazing.

When I turned 15, I wanted a bike. I wanted a bike to ride around with my friends, but also because I wanted a newspaper delivery route. I had a friend who had one, and he made the big bucks. I wanted to do the same.

In the winter a gigantic tree had fallen in our backyard filling up the space from fence to fence. My dad told me if I cut that tree up, I could have a bike. I was discouraged. “How was I supposed to cut up that tree, Grandma?” I asked with the hope of a kid getting his grandmother to tell his father to get him a bike.

“I know just what to do,” she said, and my dad and grandmother left the house and drove off. A few hours later they came back and my grandmother was holding a bag.

“This is how,” she said as she pulled a hacksaw out of the bag.

I spent three months cutting up that tree, or at least as much as a 15 year old with a hacksaw could do. When I finally got to a point where I couldn’t cut through the limbs, my dad walked out of the garage with a chainsaw and made quick work of the tree.

“You had that saw the whole time?” I cried!

“I am not getting a bike,” he replied.