Like most children, my birthday was my favorite day of the year. Not only because I got presents, cake, and a treasure hunt, but because all eyes were on me, and I loved the attention. You can imagine how I felt, when arriving home from school on my seventh birthday, January 17th, 1991, I found my mother in our kitchen listening to the radio, sobbing. This was not the the birthday I had envisioned.

Confused, I asked my mother, “if today is my birthday, how come you are crying?” My mother explained to me that scud missiles had begun falling in Israel, launched from Iraq by Saddam Hussein as a result of the Gulf War. Although we found out later on that there were much fewer casualties than expected, the grave tone of the radio announcer made it seem as if the imminent destruction of Israel was at hand. It was difficult to reconcile my personal reasons to celebrate – my birthday – with the national state of panic in Israel.

On my seventh birthday I learned that as Jews, our personal joys cannot be fully realized without the assurance of safety and security in Israel. Although I was born in Vancouver, BC to Canadian parents (and grandparents), my parents have always identified as more Israeli than Canadian. Early on in my parents’ marriage, they lived and studied Torah in Israel; my father worked for Israel’s Ministry of Justice while my mother worked as a reporter for English news television. They hoped to make aliyah and raise their children in Israel. As life often goes, their plans didn’t work out as expected, and they ended up back in Vancouver, where my brothers and I were raised.

However, many of my childhood summers were spent exploring Israel: car trips visiting our cousins in Mitzpe Hila up north, or day trips from our apartment in Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, or the Dead Sea. Israel is where I was first allowed to roam the streets alone as a child and I truly felt safe. After high school, I spent one year learning and living in Jerusalem before returning to Canada to start university. My parents passed on their “Israeliness” to myself and my siblings, not by lecturing us on the political justification of the Jewish state, but by exemplifying through action what it means to be a Diaspora Jew who longs for Israel and strives for aliyah.

I believe one day, after my youngest brother leaves home, my parents will return again to live in Israel. But, regardless of where my family ends up, our hearts and minds will always be in Israel. Knowing that I feel most at home in Israel, Ryan (my husband) proposed to me on the top of Masada. Romance to us isn’t just roses and candlelight It’s rooted in the beauty of common values and tradition. Although we live in California, we hope to celebrate all of our future simchas in Israel, passing our “Israeliness” onto the next generation.

By “Tell Danielle”