|Click to enlarge|
I had no idea when the accident had occurred, though I should have realized that it would have been several hours earlier, at the start of her work day. She worked as a nurse in a government well-baby clinic. Tipat Halav, it was called, "a drop of milk." Even the smallest town had at least one. Dimona, had three or four of these clinics and she had been working at one of them since returning to full-time work after her last child was born.
It was a Tuesday and I had last seen my sister three days earlier when she had come to shul specifically to hear me read my bar mitzvah. We had spoken only briefly. That was twenty-five years ago.
Carol and Judith are twins, my parents fourth and fifth children of seven. Carol was named Devorah after Father's Aunt Bessie Kraus who told Mother that she was carrying twins. Aunt Bessie died ten days before they were born.
After their last year in high school - that one year in Williamsport - they planned a year on kibbutz on the Hachshara program of Bnei Akiva. Mother and Father decided that this was the time and they all went. After that first year - during which Carol had been on Kibbutz Saad and Judith on Kevutzat Yavne - Carol enrolled at Bar Ilan University, a short bus ride from what had become home. A year later war came and she left the university for something more practical - nursing school.
One year later, Carol and Yaakov were married and they moved into a rented room in Jerusalem, where she attended Shaare Zedeck's nursing school. The following summer Avi was born and they moved into
|See how traffic from the left has to|
adjust to the not-quite straight road
|From the newspaper "Hadashot." The van is on the right,|
the Fiat on the left. Click to enlarge