Read Online The General's Son: Journey of an Israeli in Palestine by Miko Peled - Free Book Online
Authors: Miko Peled
Tags: BIO010000
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interests in life.”
For him, building an army for the Jewish state was based on principle. Becoming a scholar of Arabic literature fulfilled his interests. Being involved in politics andbeing an advocate for Palestinian rights was his contribution to the moral fiber of the state that he fought to establish for the Jewish people. When I was old enough to appreciate the benefits of having money, I asked him why he turned down those lucrative offers. “What do you mean why? Do you think I should spend my life manufacturing zippers?” “Zippers” was his way of referring to anything that he thought was of little consequence to the world.
So, immediately after my father retired from the army, our family moved to Los Angeles for three years in order for him to pursue his second career, as a professor of modern Arabic literature. During this time, he managed to complete his PhD at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA).
I was six years old, and I was ecstatic to go to America. I would show off my vast knowledge about America to my friends: “In America, they have cars with automatic transmission and phones where you can see the person on the other end of the line through the phone!” I actually imagined the stick shift moving on its own, and I was seriously disappointed when I learned that it was not like that at all. “Plus we fly in an airplane to get there.”
Although I loved America, these turned out to be three very difficult years for the rest of the family. My father was given a scholarship, but it was not a very generous one, and so we lived in an apartment in what was called the UCLA Married Student Housing. There were several poor married students, some with kids. There were also a few respectable international refugees who, more often than not, had fled their own countries as a result of a coup. And there was one Israeli couple who had two cats and with whom I would spend a great deal of time. My best friends were Vita from Tanzania, Berno from Ecuador, and Piyush from India. Vita’s family lived on one side of our apartment; on the other was the Babikian family, Armenians from Lebanon. I remember the mother, Margot, and my mother became good friends. They also had a son who was younger than I, Ariel, with whom I would often play.
The army retirement plan was not generous at the time, and so money was very tight. Although I was never in want of anything, I realize now how hard and stressful it must have been on both my parents. I was always a cheerful young boy and my mother, my sister Nurit, and friends of the family all made sure that I was having a good time—and I did. We would go to the pool on campus a lot and participate in summer camps there.
My brother, Yoav, left after a year and returned to Israel. Nurit left shortly thereafter to study at the Sorbonne in Paris. Ossi, the sister closest to me in age, and I remained the entire three years. Realizing the amount of stress under which my father had placed himself and how his mood affected the rest of the family, my mother did her best to remain cheerful and make our life livable.
When we first arrived in Los Angeles, we stayed in a very nice apartment building not far from UCLA. The apartment was spacious and the corridors leading to it were carpeted like a plush hotel. There was a swimming pool, and since most of the residents were older, my sisters and I had it all to ourselves. But it turned out that my father’s stipend could not afford us this arrangement and we ended up moving into a smaller apartment on Sawtelle Boulevard, among families who were younger and far less affluent. I knew no English when we arrived but, being six and having a TV set, I picked it up quickly. I went to second, third, and fourth grade at the Clover Avenue School in Los Angeles.
I loved living in the U.S., and the experience gave me an edge that cannot be overstated. I became completely fluent in English, which made me bilingual at a very young age.
For him, building an army for the Jewish state was based on principle. Becoming a scholar of Arabic literature fulfilled his interests. Being involved in politics andbeing an advocate for Palestinian rights was his contribution to the moral fiber of the state that he fought to establish for the Jewish people. When I was old enough to appreciate the benefits of having money, I asked him why he turned down those lucrative offers. “What do you mean why? Do you think I should spend my life manufacturing zippers?” “Zippers” was his way of referring to anything that he thought was of little consequence to the world.
So, immediately after my father retired from the army, our family moved to Los Angeles for three years in order for him to pursue his second career, as a professor of modern Arabic literature. During this time, he managed to complete his PhD at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA).
I was six years old, and I was ecstatic to go to America. I would show off my vast knowledge about America to my friends: “In America, they have cars with automatic transmission and phones where you can see the person on the other end of the line through the phone!” I actually imagined the stick shift moving on its own, and I was seriously disappointed when I learned that it was not like that at all. “Plus we fly in an airplane to get there.”
Although I loved America, these turned out to be three very difficult years for the rest of the family. My father was given a scholarship, but it was not a very generous one, and so we lived in an apartment in what was called the UCLA Married Student Housing. There were several poor married students, some with kids. There were also a few respectable international refugees who, more often than not, had fled their own countries as a result of a coup. And there was one Israeli couple who had two cats and with whom I would spend a great deal of time. My best friends were Vita from Tanzania, Berno from Ecuador, and Piyush from India. Vita’s family lived on one side of our apartment; on the other was the Babikian family, Armenians from Lebanon. I remember the mother, Margot, and my mother became good friends. They also had a son who was younger than I, Ariel, with whom I would often play.
The army retirement plan was not generous at the time, and so money was very tight. Although I was never in want of anything, I realize now how hard and stressful it must have been on both my parents. I was always a cheerful young boy and my mother, my sister Nurit, and friends of the family all made sure that I was having a good time—and I did. We would go to the pool on campus a lot and participate in summer camps there.
My brother, Yoav, left after a year and returned to Israel. Nurit left shortly thereafter to study at the Sorbonne in Paris. Ossi, the sister closest to me in age, and I remained the entire three years. Realizing the amount of stress under which my father had placed himself and how his mood affected the rest of the family, my mother did her best to remain cheerful and make our life livable.
When we first arrived in Los Angeles, we stayed in a very nice apartment building not far from UCLA. The apartment was spacious and the corridors leading to it were carpeted like a plush hotel. There was a swimming pool, and since most of the residents were older, my sisters and I had it all to ourselves. But it turned out that my father’s stipend could not afford us this arrangement and we ended up moving into a smaller apartment on Sawtelle Boulevard, among families who were younger and far less affluent. I knew no English when we arrived but, being six and having a TV set, I picked it up quickly. I went to second, third, and fourth grade at the Clover Avenue School in Los Angeles.
I loved living in the U.S., and the experience gave me an edge that cannot be overstated. I became completely fluent in English, which made me bilingual at a very young age.
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