The man to the left is my grandfather. My grandmother used to say he looked like a movie star from the 1950s. He worked for one of the five richest men in the world. A man so rich and powerful that he once was on the cover of Time magazine for brokering arms between Israel and China. I still have the solid gold Dupont lighter he got on his retirement.

The man on the left was born in Romania, and was interned in a forced labor camp during WWII. He and a friend bribed their way out of the camp and then escaped towards Palestine, only to be detained by the British in Cypress. While in Cypress, he served as the translator for the British because he spoke English the best. He prided himself on how well he spoke English. While translating for the British, he helped the prisoners steal butter to protect their skin as they swam several miles out into international waters where a ship waited to take them to Palestine. Once in Israel, he settled at kibbutz Dafna, where he met my grandmother and got married, and later when my mother was born, they named her Dafna.

You would never have known this man had has these experience. I once asked him why he didnt talk about those days. “Why should I talk about those days?” he answered, “today is much more fun.”

When I was 13, I decided I wanted to spend the summer with my grandparents in Israel. They lived just outside of Tel Aviv, and staying with them for 2.5 months and getting to see the country was something I dreamed of. Over the course of the year, I worked as hard as I could to save enough money to go. My parents didnt have much money, and the $1200 for the plane ticket was a lot of money. So I worked. My mom and dad saved. And we got enough to go to Israel.

That summer, I created an enormous amount of memories, from the gigantic cockroaches that flew into my grandparents flat; to floating in the Dead Sea; to photographing a pickpocket in action in the Carmel Market. My mom made my grandmother swear to not allow me to “roll off the plane” when I got back, so my diet consisted of plain yogurt, seltzer water and glass noodles — both because my grandmother would not feed me, and because she was the worst cook in the world.

Tel Aviv in the early 1980s was an interesting time. Israel had just invaded southern Lebanon, Jews from Ethiopia and other members of the diaspora were pouring into the country. The currency was in shambles, and the country was in the midst of an election.

My grandmother dragged me all over the country. We saw and experienced everything. It was amazing. The first day I got to my grandparents flat, there was a brisk knock at the door and in Hebrew a voice called, “Is the American boy here yet?” Spending the days playing games we invented with apricot pits with the neighborhood kids was just icing on the cake.

Through it all, my grandfather was his quiet self. Then one day, he asked if I wanted to see a movie. He got dressed in a jacket, tie and a fedora, put a pack of cigarettes in his pocket and shepherded me out the door. We walked to the bus and sat silently as it wound through the Tel Aviv streets.

He stood as we reached our stop and reached out for my hand. We left the bus and walked another block or two to the cinema. As we arrived, I looked up and saw that we were going to see Against All Odds. As a 13 year old boy, lets just say, I was very excited to see it.

As the movie started, there were ads prior to the movie, and everyone in the theater began to smoke cigarettes, and as the movie progressed, it felt so much like it must have been to go see a movie in the 1960s when everyone wore suits and dresses, drank whiskey and smoked.

About half way through the movie, there was an intermission, and while he bought me candy and a coke, he told me of the story of his time in Romania before the war. I had never heard the story, but knew it was something that he didnt normally share. I said nothing. I asked no questions.

The curtain raised and the movie continued, and I sat back and thought about my grandfather. He worked for one of the richest men in the world. A man so rich that he owned a building called the Asia House in Israel that had blue mirrors on the ceiling to simulate water. He dealt with the horrors of the second world war.

And despite it all, he found a woman that he loved and married for more than 50 years, and had two wonderful daughters.

As I settled back in to watch the second half of the movie, I smiled.