Buffalo ties
by tamarjacobson
This morning I awoke thinking about the friends I made in Buffalo. In all the nineteen years I have spent in America, not one of my Israeli friends ever visited me. Last year, finally, one of them did, but only because she was in the area staying with other friends of hers. In fact, two of whom I considered my closest friends while living in Israel have been to the States many times to visit family members and did not take the trouble even to call. I only found out about their visits when I saw them in Israel those times I went back.
A number of my Buffalo friends not only have been to see me, some have gone out of their way to do so, adding hundreds of miles to their journeys. They keep in touch constantly through phones, cards, and e-mail. I grew up in Buffalo. Even though I arrived there at age 39, I was like an adolescent in my emotional development. And we all know how some adolescents can be. Well, giving everyone the benefit of the doubt back then, perhaps I was a handful those nineteen years I lived in Israel. Perhaps people were actually relieved to see me go. Goodbye and good luck, with a wave of their hand, and "Don’t let the door hit you in the axs on your way out!" Or, at least, their consequential lack of interest in me and my accomplishments, or trials and tribulations, assures me of that.
Sobering thoughts, to be sure. Belonging to a bygone era. I saw a coffee mug when I was in Cape May last week. It said: Rise and Whine. I think I will treat myself to one for days like these.
Am not feeling sad about all of this, mind you. Perhaps a twinge of shame and vulnerability as I share these wonderings with you, the reader out there.
More than anything, though, this piece is a realization of the tremendous gratitude I feel for my Buffalo friends. Their constant support, love, and caring for me has truly helped me become the woman I am today.
tamarjacobson 
Savtadotty,
Smiles.
Oh, and I have another word of wisdom, from someone much wiser than I. We were talking about a close relationship of mine that troubled me, and he said: “You’re applying too much glue. Try applying some solvent and wait for [the other person] to apply the glue.” It worked.
I so agree with you on the blame game thing. But if you’re talking about inner landscapes, blame is really looking for someplace to pin pain.
This discussion is helpful to me. Thanks, Winston, for joining in. I think when you describe “disappointment” I interpret it as feeling abandonned. And, in fact, this ties in with my blog post of today about internal ethnographies and Tom’s theory that some people think things happen to them from the outside while others take stock of their inner feelings. So, the old friends were in that “camp” or “school of thought” where stuff happened to them – I did that to them by leaving: that is, abandonned them! I think when we take on that world view: namely, the blame game, it frees us of personal responsibility.
I think “betrayed” is partially correct. Certainly “disappointed”.
Since I left home at 17 to attend university, I never moved back. Visit once or twice per year, and maybe 4 to 6 times now that I am back in Tennessee, have ailing elderly parents, and the drive is only about 2 hours. I have noted that many of the friends I grew up with, the ones that never left, consider me an outsider. When I’m there visiting family, these friends will not even drive 5 minutes to see me. Yet we were very close, and if I go to see them they act like they are glad to see me, but their body language and occasional snide remarks tell a different story.
I think it has to do with being the one who left. We see it as pursuing opportunities. They see it as abandoning ship. One of them even said to me once that I thought I was too good for them. Nothing could be further from the truth, but something put that notion in their heads. Yes, I think I’ve talked myself into the betrayal angle…
Savtadotty,
I am smiling because I don’t know what you mean by “snarky,” but I do travel half way around the world over and over again to see a number of old friends (including my old Israeli ones) and family – pay for them to come and see me – whatever it takes! My problem has never been that I don’t do all it takes to see people I love and care about: family and friends – indeed, have done that rather too much. Pathetically!
Haven’t you been reading my blog? I do “shminiot b’avir” (cartwheels in the air) all my life to make people love me! Thank goodness I am finally letting go of that silly nonsense and allowing myself to patiently wait for reciprocity. And .. it’s coming … it does … to those who wait and have faith in themselves. I’ve finally found that out by holding still.
I have a friend from Africa who we both still do travel around half the world to see each other whenever we can.
The “betrayed” notion could fit, I guess. I just think that when I was younger I was “too much” for some of my friends, or perhaps they weren’t the friends I thought they were. Again, I have only thought about it since I realized what wonderful friends I have made in the US. It also speaks about me as well as all of them. Am more patient, constant and secure than I was when I was young. Maybe it’s easier to be friends with me … go figure.
“What does it matter? It’s in the past!” (as they say in The Lion King)
My 2 cents (2 shekels): some of your Israeli “friends” may have felt the way some of my American “friends” did when I left, also 19 years ago: betrayed. At the end of the day, one votes with one’s feet, and the relationships that last over miles and oceans are the ones that count. Not to be snarky, but it helps to consider who from your past would/do you travel halfway around the world to visit?
Oh Tamar. Beautifully put! Thank you so much for understanding.
I feel no anger towards anyone at this point but realize that as the gratitude rises, I alllow myself to mourn the losses.
Am grateful that you are out there listening to me. Thank you again.
In cases like this where one-time connections/friendships appear to have evanesced, I feel sad/bad until I realize that I, too (gratefully) release souls whose energy saps mine. All sort of darwinian, and OK. Focusing on our buffalos emphasizes where we are versus where we were. Not that the comparison doesn’t have merit.