Starstruck

My grandfather was kind of a big deal.

I vaguely knew it when I was six years old, from stories, gossip, and newspaper clips.

While most kids see greatness in their elders, and very rightfully so, Azaria Rapoport was considered a celebrity, a consensus stretching beyond our extended family.

I came along after his career was over for the most part, and thus I got to meet the man who sat in his armchair, complimented Muki’le on her cooking, and gardened his plants.

He imparted his passion for the Hebrew language to me, with poems, plays, and literary translations he wrote. Posters, pictures, memorabilia, and videotapes - so many videotapes - were meticulously labeled, and cataloged, detailing his appearances or other central cultural moments existing only in VHS now. His typewriter and Pall Mall cigarettes were the staples in their miniature apartment, overlooking one of Tel Aviv’s oldest and busiest corners. The living room was packed, walls paved with framed eclectic art, a collage of contemporary bohemia and Kitch.

Today, on his birthday and 25 years after his passing, I am still in awe of who he was, and what he was before I met him. I am astonished to learn new details of his aura and stature.

Case in point:

The State of Israel is 10 years old. My grandfather is merely 34. He is tasked with a surreal mission of leading a bunch of glamorous yet raw talent across the United States of America. My zionist grandfather was to showcase the cultural richness of the wonder that is the young Jewish state, armed with an equally young wonder, a prodigy violinist, a 12-year-old Yitzhak Perlman.

Perlman was no doubt a sensation, though the real star was the handsome, charismatic leader of this coast-to-coast artistic task force, Azaria. The pinnacle of this six-month tour: An appearance on the Iconic CBS hit: The Ed Sullivan Show, a stage shared with the Beatles, Elvis Presley, The Doors, and many, many more.

I have many unanswered questions for this young star, but instead, I now have this photograph, stationed between my laundry closet and bathroom, reminding me whenever I pass by it, to be extraordinary!

Happy birthday, Saba