Page 422 - WhyAsInY

Why (as in yaverbaum)
Almost simultaneously with the onset of “Operation Peace for Galilee” on June 6, 1982, Phyllis received a call from the UJA, offering her an opportunity to enter Lebanon, virtually on the heels of the Israeli inva- sion. I had never shown much enthusiasm for sponsored trips to Israel, which to my mind were fundraising events replete with continual lec- tures on the plight of the host nation, and I certainly had little enthusiasm for traveling to what was then a war zone. Phyllis was intent on going, with or without me, and there was no way that she could be talked out of it. So she went. And I stayed home with the kids. That was the first time that we had been separated since 1977, and a sadness enveloped me. I thought that something uncharacteristic and somewhat threaten- ing was occurring, and that, once again, the religious-Jewish stakes were being raised. Still, I’m not sure, but I don’t believe that the word divorce came to mind.
Perhaps similarly, in March 1985, I had the time to go to Vail to round out the ski season, but Phyllis, who really liked to ski, would not go. In a wholly uncharacteristic act (I was anything but a loner), I went to Colorado by myself and, for the most part, skied alone. Now I clearly knew that something serious was happening. I couldn’t admit it, but I must have been testing myself, fleeing, and seeing if I could survive without constant companionship, Phyllis’s companionship.
If I had to have more evidence that there was serious trouble, I had only to consider the role of the bicycle in our lives. Both Phyllis and I liked to ride and take long rides together around the neighborhood. Consistent with my normal tendency to overdo (as some would say), at the suggestion of a friend, I had gotten myself a custom-made bike, a Richard Sachs red road-racer, for my fortieth birthday. In late March 1985, as the new riding season was upon us, I did some investigation and, as a surprise, presented Phyllis with a beautiful, top-of-the-line silver Trek machine to replace the clunker that she had been riding. I was hopeful that the gift would make her happy and that she would be pleased by my generosity. She was not. Nothing was said when I made the presentation, but it was pretty clear that she felt unhappy and was unable even to feign appreciation. My read? To her, the new bicycle was
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