It took 35 minutes for the guys to get organized and stand for a family photo.
This may sound like a long time, but when the family has more than 200 offspring, it's relatively nimble.
210, to be precise, including the birthday bride, beautiful.
She sat patiently in the middle of the picture and waited for everyone to get along.
Occasionally a granddaughter approaches her and presents her with a granddaughter for a kiss.
Beautiful kisses patiently.
After all, it's her 100th birthday, and it's quite an experience to kiss grandchildren.
Yaffa is my mother's cousin, and we celebrated her 100th birthday last week at Kibbutz Ein Hanatziv.
Yaffa's story is a legend from the land of legends, so I will start like this: Many years ago, Grandpa Max took off his boots and went to fetch Yaffa from the port of Haifa.
Yaffa arrived alone, her parents were murdered by the Germans, and those who gathered her to their home and family are my grandparents, Max and Tzivia, her uncles.
The family members are preparing for the joint photo, Photo: None
Givatayim of that time looked like a dune on which several huts had accidentally fallen.
A lot of time wasted not left to sabik and saposh, who had to milk their cows by hand and then distribute the milk to customers.
Unlike today, life back then was really hard.
Although food was placed on the table, for a moment it was not obvious.
Over the years, she integrated well into the all-Israeli track and found herself a pioneer in Kibbutz Ein Hanatziv in the Beit She'an Valley.
Anyone who wants to get an idea of how delicious it was, would think of farming at a temperature of 45 degrees without air conditioning.
Clear as wine, vital as a 20-year-old, happy and smiling, sits beautifully while her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and fifties approach in pairs and triplets to kiss and serve her a flower, one in a hundred, a flower a year.
Not all the years were flourishing.
Twice more the stroke of fate in beauty, blows that someone else might have broken from them, but beautiful, you have to see the lady, made of a different material.
I did not ask her, but I'm sure my aunt's wife would not be angry if I asked for a moment the story of her life, and in his fear and pity I would seek to adopt him, that I might say that it is also my story, of all of us.
I was sitting next to Yaffa last week, extracting a stubborn grain of sand that came into my eye, I looked at her smiling and realized something: without the joy of life from wall to wall we can close the shed and go home.
Sometimes it really seems to me that my homeland is going pipe, but it's despair out of indulgence, one I can not afford.
My beautiful aunt immigrated to Israel, and all her possessions were the clothes of her skin.
Last week she celebrated 100, immersed in her loving family, and for a moment I saw a man who has it all.
We are far from losing, we are a visible miracle, and it is better for all of us to treat with anxiety the deposit that the Holy One has placed in our hands, Blessed be He.
To guard the house, our beloved city of refuge;
The flowering, the most beautiful in the world.
Congratulations, beautiful, my beloved aunt.
Thank you for the lesson that is you, and that the next hundred years will be at least as successful as yours.
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