The Man Who Worked at the Ministry of Tourism

AARON HASS Ph.D

It the summer of 1969.  I WAS TWENTY AND, WITH MY BACKPACK slung over my shoulder, boarded a plane of my post college trip abroad. My jobs counselor, water and busboy over the past seven summers financed the adventure. At that time, you really could see Europe on five dollars a day. One of the countries I visited was Israel. While there, I met an Israeli woman. Aliza,and we hit it off. Knowledge I was alone, she invited me to her parents' for a home cooked dinner. The apartment, located in a central neighborhood of Jerusalem, was tidy, small, and a bit cramped. I particularly enjoyed speaking with her father, a soft-spoken, gentle man of about sixty, after discovering that we both had family who had lived just a generation previous in the same town in Poland.

The next evening, I was in Aliza's Tel-Aviv apartment on Hayarkon street, overlooking the Mediterranean. The television set was on. Suddenly, an interview with her father appeared on the news. At the bottom of the screen  was  his name and title, Minister of Tourism. Alizas father was a Cabinet Minister Of cause, she had a great laugh at  the shocked expression on my face. But the incident. My respect for the man, not the Minister, soared.

The Minister was not playing games with me. He was not at tempting to dupe me. He was acknowledgining that his title was unimportant. He simply presented himself during our lengthy conversation, and that was enough. He let his behavior speak for him. I have an acquaintance who seizes any opening to press upon me stories of the rich and famous with whom he has dined or partied since we last spoke. He want to insure that I appreciate his status, as evidenced of, he insist. I am continually amaze at the number of very accomplished individuals I encounter who still fell compelled to name-drop.

Another acquaintance answer my opening gambit of "What's new?" with a recitation of the latest athletic , academic, or creative awards recently bestowed on his children. My children reflect who I am, he implies. Look at how successful we all are, he suggest.