By Miki Avraham (Paran)
In my childhood, we spent most of our time outdoors. The house was meant for sleeping, eating, and occasionally doing homework. The main activities happened outside, where we roamed the village paths on foot, in the sand - there were no paved roads yet.
In the winter, our main activity centered around the puddles that formed everywhere. There was one giant puddle at the edge of 'Birobidzhan', east of the Makov family’s yard. That area was a depression with heavy soil, and every year the water would stay there for a long time. We’d go sailing in that puddle. How? A round tin washtub served as a boat, wooden planks were our oars, and off we sailed.
In the summer, we lived in the trees. We built a wooden platform among the branches of a large carob tree along the boulevard - it was our house. From there, we’d glide down a rope - our zip line - diagonally toward the lawn in the yard. We also played running games in the street and treasure-hunt games in the orchards. We ran a lot, and always together - the neighborhood gang, kids of different ages.
On summer Saturdays, we went to the beach. There was a beach at the mouth of the Poleg Stream - “just for Ein Vered.” The moshav’s truck would head to the sea every Saturday with kids and adults, and we spent a few hours on the beach. We swam to the rocks we called “the island,” and we never wanted to leave.
It’s worth mentioning that we didn’t just play - we also worked on the farm. When needed, we helped collect eggs, harvest citrus, and weed the garden. As we got older and joined the youth movement, we came to group activities. There, between educational talks and lessons in the values of labor and Zionism, we would sing and dance - naturally, Israeli songs, “Russian songs,” and folk dances. Added to that were the Lag BaOmer bonfires on the sports field, with black coffee and fire-roasted potatoes.
Where did we meet? The regular gathering place was the plaza in front of the grocery store, where there were trees, streetlamps, and benches. From there, we would set off on daring and dangerous adventures. For example, we’d sneak into the watermelon fields to “borrow” a few. How delicious it was to eat the heart of a red watermelon straight from the rind!
These were our games.
From: Bilha Nachman, 2000, Stories of Ein Vered – Seventy Years of the Village, 1930–2000, published by Ein Vered Moshav.