This is a story by Gershon Perlman, who for the past 22 years has been a resident of Moshav Gan Or, a farming collective in Gush Katif in the Gaza Strip. Mr. Perlman is what you might call a tree-hugger. No, it's not what you think.
I am a Jew; I live in a Jewish house and am raising a Jewish family on Jewish land in the Jewish community of Gush Katif, about a mile from the Mediterranean Sea in what many call the Gaza Strip. I have been living with the same wife in the same house for the past twenty-one years.
I really love my house. When we moved in, there was nothing around it but barren sand dunes. I pretty much designed my house by myself with oversized windows to afford a beautiful view of my not-yet planted garden. I put a lot of time and effort into my garden.
It is not just because it's the Israeli thing to do - making the desert bloom and all that - it's much more personal; it's me. My garden is really special to me. I've been collecting rocks and stones, erecting them and laying them out like a mosaic each time to get it 'just right'. It's been a twenty-year labor of love, stopping at roadsides, hauling these rocks into the back of my station wagon, and sometimes getting strange looks from passers-by - but such is love.
I have some trees in my garden. A couple of them I planted back in 1985. Nineteen years later, I immodestly admit that I planned well and that these trees give shade exactly where they're supposed to. During an Israeli summer you really appreciate something like that. My sons grew up in those trees, sometimes having fun and sometimes hiding from angry parents.
I've got another tree that is only eight years old. While the older trees may be sentimental, this tree is hard to describe. If I tell you about it, maybe you can help me out with the right word. When my sister's son was killed in a car accident eight years ago, she wanted me to plant a tree in Israel. What better place could there be than in her brother's own backyard? I'm our only family member who lives in Israel and, therefore, the only one with a backyard here. My sister and I speak every so often and she sometimes asks me about 'her' tree. I guess I'm the tree's guardian as well as its planter, but that's okay, I kind of like special tasks.
There is, of course, more to read. Obviously, Mr. Perlman isn't wild about the idea of being evicted from his home. Well, who would be? The point of this story (at least my point in pointing to it) isn't to argue that Israel should remain in Gaza because of a man and his trees. It's merely an attempt to give the word "settler" some substance so that when we talk about "relocating" 7,500 of them, we have a clearer picture of just who and what is involved. Mr. Perlman and his trees seemed like a good place to start.
Shabbat Shalom.
