
 
		Like a Bridge Over Water...  
 BY DR. NURIT ISRAELI 
 Photos courtesy  
 I of Dr. Nurit Israeli just finished reading the book,  
 “What Is It All but Luminous:  
 Notes  from  an  Underground  
 Man,” a lyrical memoir by Art Garfunkel, 
  half of the singing duo, Simon  
 and Garfunkel. I was touched  
 by the candid way Garfunkel writes  
 about his life and remembered the  
 excitement  of  hearing  him  sing  
 throughout the years. 
 One concert is particularly memorable. 
  It took place a few years  
 ago in a small library in Stamford,  
 Connecticut.  The  performance,  
 “An  Intimate  Evening  with  Art  
 Garfunkel,”  included  songs,  
 prose, anecdotes and an audience  
 question-and-answer session. We  
 attended the concert with our son  
 and granddaughter. She, then a  
 freshman in college, drove us to  
 the concert. She was a relatively  
 new  driver,  practicing  highway  
 driving under the tutelage of her  
 father. We, her grandparents, were  
 sitting in the back seat behind them.  
 It was a beautiful fall evening. The  
 sun was slowly setting ahead of us  
 as the car carried us onward. My  
 son put on my favorite Simon and  
 Garfunkel music. I was lulled by  
 the music, the sunset, the flicker  
 of  blinking  lights.  Memories  of  
 earlier car rides rose up from the  
 deep, unexpectedly, one following  
 another. When I returned home  
 under the influence of music and  
 feeling nostalgic, I sat at my desk  
 and kept my pen moving…  
 2019 
 February CAR RIDES 
 “Seedlings  turn  overnight  to  
  sunflowers 
 ¢Blossoming even as we gaze.”  
 COURIER  —Sheldon Harnick 
 On the way to an Art Garfunkel  
 concert.  My  granddaughter  is  
 driving. In the passenger seat—her  
 TOWERS father, my son. I am sitting right  
 behind, my eyes focused on his  
 salt-and-pepper hair next to her  
 reddish-gold  hair,  on  his  hands  
 SHORE holding the map next to her equally  
 graceful hands holding the steering  
 wheel. 
 NORTH Vivid images of earlier car rides  
 flash before my eyes... 
 Homebound from the hospital,  
 10  a  23-year-old  new  mother,  my  
 — Sheldon Harnick mother—a first-time grandmother— 
 in  the  back  seat,  delighted:  the  
 salt-and-pepper haired man (now  
 in his 50s), born just 7 days earlier,  
 angelic, with reddish-goldish hair,  
 reportedly grabbed her finger and  
 they are now “holding hands”... 
 Driving to Boston twenty-some  
 years  later,  holding  two  teddy  
 bears–one blue, one pink. About  
 an hour earlier, I got a call from the  
 salt-and-pepper haired man, then a  
 young physician-in-training, that  
 my first grandchildren had just been  
 born, The Twins... Getting to hold  
 a tiny three-pound preemie, now  
 the lovely young woman driving us  
 (as well as her four-pound adorable  
 twin brother, now taller than I), in  
 the palm of my hand, tears of joy  
 streaming... 
 Driving  to  the  hospital  more  
 recently, I am the patient, my grown  
 boy—the doctor—taking me for a  
 consult, arranging all the details,  
 helping me navigate the mud of  
 confusing  uncertainties...  Back  
 home, his all-grown-up, kindhearted  
 daughter (just got her driver’s  
 license) coming to visit, patiently  
 teaching me how to use the icons  
 on my new iPhone... 
 A compact disc playing Simon  
 and  Garfunkel’s  songs  is  now  
 interrupting “Sounds of silence”  
 and I am humming the familiar  
 lyrics.  A  glorious  sun  just  set  
 ahead, and as evening falls hard  
 and darkness comes, I smile at  
 the backs of my silver boy and his  
 golden girl, grateful for being here,  
 for being able to sail right behind  
 them, for being able to glimpse  
 at their time which has come to  
 shine, at their dreams which are  
 on their way. And—like a bridge  
 over water—over a river of love, I  
 can see the links of a sturdy chain,  
 connecting the dots, crossing us  
 over time. 
 “Sail on, silver girl 
 Sail on by 
 Your time has come to shine 
 All your dreams are on their way 
 See how they shine 
 Oh, if you need a friend 
 I’m sailing right behind 
 Like a bridge...”  
 “Wasn’t it yesterday when they were small?”  — Sheldon Harnick 
 “I don’t remember growing older — When did they?”