Our dear Boston friends. What a shock it was to learn about the Boston Marathon Bombing on the eve of Israel's Independence Day. We were in Tel Aviv's celebration center - Rabin square - amid loud fireworks, large open air concert, foam-covered children and cars, and thousands of families with kids, teens, youth, elders celebrating outside late into the night. So proud we were to show this wild, ecstatic Israel to our Bostonian friends who arrived the day before for their son's Bar Mitzvah. At first it seems as a mistake. A bomb? Not in Israel? Not related to the Independence Day Celebration? At our Boston, the college and sports town? During the Marathon? Why?
Just the day before was a Memorial Day - one of the saddest day of the year in Israel. The day when we (notice that "we" just slipped out of my hands naturally) mourn fallen soldiers, victims of terror, and optionally any other relatives that have passed away. Two minute-long sirens at 8pm and 11am stop the routine life and signal the sadness of the day. In the evening most people attend community ceremonies or watch Memorial eve Service on TV. (All the other Israeli TV channels suspend their broadcasts for 24 hours.) During the day many go to the military cemeteries to pay respect to their relatives or friends who died for the country. We went to a service organized in a small neighborhood park nearby by the local Tzofim (scouts) group that our daughter belongs to and found there most of the school families.
It was very sad and beautiful. On a make-shift stage, near the banner with the word "Remember", a few teen scouts sung, played instruments, read poetry and talked about 20 people that went to the neighborhood schools, the army, and fell in one of the recent wars, military operations, terrorist attacks or tragic car accidents while at the army. Next morning each of the kids had another memorial ceremony at their day care and schools, returning home in a teary and contemplative mood. I read that alternative ceremonies marking both - Israeli and Palestinian - victims of wars and terror were held in at least one location in Tel Aviv.
Toward the evening, the country slowly switch from mourning those who fell to celebrating the life they fell for. Independence Day cheer was very similar to the US July 4th celebrations just a bit more unruly We walked with our Bostonian friends all the way from the Tel Aviv beachfront to Disengof street, then to ha Bima and Rabin square. And we tried every Israeli treat along the way - fresh fruit smoothies, shwarma and falafel on Frishman, coffee with cheesecake, Pizza Agvania, Vaniglia Ice Cream and then again at midnight, oven-hot bourekas. Our US-raised kids were at first hesitant but then thrilled to use the giant foam bottles to spray each other and some structures nearby imitating others. Music, fireworks, flashing led light toys, foam, inflatable hammers, funny blue-and-white hats and kids of all ages freely running around well past bedtime. There was so much freedom and happiness in the air. Our guests mused that they haven't seen this side of Israel in their previous synagogue-organized tours.
Moshe mentioned that one of the newspapers just ran an article titled "Why are Israelis so damn happy?" A question that seemed so fitting at the moment but we couldn't discuss it with the exploding boom of the fireworks and crowd cheer. It may be the Mediterranean Passion for life, the sunshine, the open emotions culture, large and supportive family networks or the thrill and relief of life-in-danger. Just across from our ice cream stop was a place where the last real hope for Israeli-Palestinian Peace was shot in 1995 - Prime Minister Itzhak Rabin. Not by a Palestinian terrorist but by a local educated and sane Jewish terrorist opposed to Rabin's relatively left-wing policies. A lone and angry person that confused himself to be a revolutionary just as currently suspected in the Boston Marathon terror.
Our dear Bostonian friends, we are so glad you are all safe, that you run not so fast or took a break at this marathon or changed the viewing spot just before the explosions. We hug you from this far away land that used to the terror signs and consequences. Where too many police sirens mean that urgent news will come soon, where armed security guards are a custom at schools, malls and any public events. People here know too well how sorrow fills up your heart and all you want is to lock up your doors, huddle your family and hide everyone under the down blanket keeping them far from any danger. But then you realize that this is exactly what terrorists wanted - attention and fear. And perhaps what we all should be doing instead is continue living our wonderful ordinary lives and trying to be damn happy.
Just the day before was a Memorial Day - one of the saddest day of the year in Israel. The day when we (notice that "we" just slipped out of my hands naturally) mourn fallen soldiers, victims of terror, and optionally any other relatives that have passed away. Two minute-long sirens at 8pm and 11am stop the routine life and signal the sadness of the day. In the evening most people attend community ceremonies or watch Memorial eve Service on TV. (All the other Israeli TV channels suspend their broadcasts for 24 hours.) During the day many go to the military cemeteries to pay respect to their relatives or friends who died for the country. We went to a service organized in a small neighborhood park nearby by the local Tzofim (scouts) group that our daughter belongs to and found there most of the school families.
It was very sad and beautiful. On a make-shift stage, near the banner with the word "Remember", a few teen scouts sung, played instruments, read poetry and talked about 20 people that went to the neighborhood schools, the army, and fell in one of the recent wars, military operations, terrorist attacks or tragic car accidents while at the army. Next morning each of the kids had another memorial ceremony at their day care and schools, returning home in a teary and contemplative mood. I read that alternative ceremonies marking both - Israeli and Palestinian - victims of wars and terror were held in at least one location in Tel Aviv.
Toward the evening, the country slowly switch from mourning those who fell to celebrating the life they fell for. Independence Day cheer was very similar to the US July 4th celebrations just a bit more unruly We walked with our Bostonian friends all the way from the Tel Aviv beachfront to Disengof street, then to ha Bima and Rabin square. And we tried every Israeli treat along the way - fresh fruit smoothies, shwarma and falafel on Frishman, coffee with cheesecake, Pizza Agvania, Vaniglia Ice Cream and then again at midnight, oven-hot bourekas. Our US-raised kids were at first hesitant but then thrilled to use the giant foam bottles to spray each other and some structures nearby imitating others. Music, fireworks, flashing led light toys, foam, inflatable hammers, funny blue-and-white hats and kids of all ages freely running around well past bedtime. There was so much freedom and happiness in the air. Our guests mused that they haven't seen this side of Israel in their previous synagogue-organized tours.
Moshe mentioned that one of the newspapers just ran an article titled "Why are Israelis so damn happy?" A question that seemed so fitting at the moment but we couldn't discuss it with the exploding boom of the fireworks and crowd cheer. It may be the Mediterranean Passion for life, the sunshine, the open emotions culture, large and supportive family networks or the thrill and relief of life-in-danger. Just across from our ice cream stop was a place where the last real hope for Israeli-Palestinian Peace was shot in 1995 - Prime Minister Itzhak Rabin. Not by a Palestinian terrorist but by a local educated and sane Jewish terrorist opposed to Rabin's relatively left-wing policies. A lone and angry person that confused himself to be a revolutionary just as currently suspected in the Boston Marathon terror.
Our dear Bostonian friends, we are so glad you are all safe, that you run not so fast or took a break at this marathon or changed the viewing spot just before the explosions. We hug you from this far away land that used to the terror signs and consequences. Where too many police sirens mean that urgent news will come soon, where armed security guards are a custom at schools, malls and any public events. People here know too well how sorrow fills up your heart and all you want is to lock up your doors, huddle your family and hide everyone under the down blanket keeping them far from any danger. But then you realize that this is exactly what terrorists wanted - attention and fear. And perhaps what we all should be doing instead is continue living our wonderful ordinary lives and trying to be damn happy.
