Vignette from the life of a Poor Sad Heroic Victim of Terror ®

A couple months after the bombing, I spent a weekend in Tel Aviv with my friends Yael and Debbie. On Friday, Yael and I headed off for a day at the beach. On our way there, we popped over to Shuk HaCarmel, the Carmel Farmers Market, to pick up stuff for lunch. We arrived at the Shuk at around noon—an hour when the place tends to be completely packed. Yael got a bit nervous.

"You know, it is really crowded…." She did not have to say more.

"No, it is okay", I blithely responded. "We are not really going into the shuk, see? We are buying stuff right at the entrance".

Yael just looked at me. Oh, right. Entrances to open markets are bad.

I really should know this. But whatever. Nothing happened.

?האם תרצו

A. A conversation with an Israeli friend who grew up in the US.

Me: True, we have a lot of problems here. But I believe in Israel. We have done so much in 60 years that I have no doubt we can go the rest of the distance.

Friend: (condescending) Oh please. The government is corrupt. The people are corrupt. No one cares about anything but their own wallets. Really, nothing is going to happen to change that.

Me: Of course change can happen! Look at the United States! The federal and local governments were completely corrupt until people got up and called for change. We can do that here. We are already doing that.

Friend: You know, I know you like to believe your pretty little fantasy world. But you cannot compare the US and Israel. The US was built on a good, solid foundation. Israel was built on a bad foundation.

Indeed? Please, take a moment and Google the following:

Tammany Hall. Robber barons. Tenement Slums. Slavery. Star Route Frauds. Decimation of the Native Americans. Discrimination against women. The Red Scare and McCarthyism. Jim Crow. Pollution.

I present you with two potential conclusions to be drawn from the above list:
1) The United States and Israel have equally solid foundations.
2) The United States and Israel have equally weak foundations.

Choose whichever one suits you. Once you have done that, please take a look at some the following:

Charles Henry Parkhurst. Mary Harris ("Mother") Jones. Jacob Riis. Thomas Garret. Dorman Bridgeman Eaton. Sarah James. Susan B. Anthony. Edward R Murrow. Barbara Johns. Rachel Carson.

To save you some time, let me provide you with the common factor linking the names above. Each of the names is that of an ordinary person who said "enough"…and who proceeded to change the United States and make it better. It is thanks to the above people and thousands upon thousands like them that the United States, for all of its faults, is so often cited as an example of good government and a well-functioning society.

Are you asleep, O our nation? What have you been doing until 1882? Sleeping and dreaming the false dream of assimilation. Now thank God, you have awaked from your slothful slumber. The pogroms have awakened you from your charmed sleep. You eyes are open to recognize the obscure and delusive hopes. Can you listen in silence to the taunts and mocking of your enemies?..

Where is your ancient pride, your old spirit? Remember that you were a nation possessing a wise religion, a law, a constitution, a celestial Temple whose wall is still a silent witness to the glories of the past...

Bilu Manifesto 1882

If they can do it, we can do it. Do not forget who we are. Do not forget where we came from. Do not forget what we have endured. And most of all, do not forget what we have accomplished despite everything we have had to endure. For us to doubt ourselves and our abilities as individuals, as a people and as a sovereign nation is patently ridiculous. A corrupt prime minister? קטן עלינו.

B. A conversation with a co-worker.

Friend: My husband and I sometimes talk about how we wish we had been born during the early days of the State.

Me: Why is that?

Friend: Times were different then, better. You know…more idealistic and heroic. People had something to believe in. The people were different then as well. They were more Zionist then, less disillusioned, less selfish and more self-sacrificing. They cared about the State of Israel.

Me: I don't get it—why can't you and your husband be like that? Do community service. I don't know…take your kids to volunteer at an old aged home once a month.

Friend: Oh no! We used to live across the street from an old aged home—it was really frightening.

Me: Well, then do something else.

Friend: Well, you know…things get so busy.

Now here comes the rub. We can…but do we want to? Let us have a little reality check. It is not "the times" and it is not "the country" that is the problem. You are the problem. Do you want to be idealistic? Then be idealistic! What is stopping you? What the hell are you waiting for? Either you want this or you do not. If you want it, you will do it. (Do not worry—I am saying this to myself as well).

אני רוצה להתבגר במדינה שמתגברת על כל הקשיים, בכל המובנים. דואגת לילדים שלה-וגם למייסדים. קולטת עליה, לומדים מניסיון אז נזכור מה שהיה ונעשה את זה נכון. ניקח אחריות, המדינה הזאת שלנו. אז בוא נצעד צעד צעד ללא פחד. נציג את כל שנבקש אם נשאר ביחד. נביט למציאות עמוק בתוך העניין ונבנה עתיד טוב יותר בעבודת כפיים. סאבלימינל והגבעטרון-בת 60

I want to grow up in a country that overcomes all obstacles, in all meanings of the word. That cares for her children and also for her founders. That absorbs olim, learning through experience so that we will remember what was and will do it right. We will take responsibility; this is our country. So come march in step without fear. We will achieve everything we want if we stick together. We will look reality straight in the eyes and we will build a better future with our own hands."

Subliminal and The Gevatron "Sixty Years Old"

Being idealistic in action is not as difficult as it sounds. Volunteer. Teach your children to volunteer. Go to demonstrations. Vote! If the party you voted for does not keep its election promises, kick the bums out. Write letters. Give to charity. Add a tzedakah box to your kitchen décor. Think about the environment. Turn off the water while you scrub the dishes. Fight corruption on every level, and wherever you can. Remember—corruption does not emerge, like Athena, fully formed from the minds of top government officials. It exists everywhere—it is just a matter of scale. The corrupt clerk in the iriyah who has an illegal side arrangement with the black-market guy who buys cars from people looking to leave the country (as encountered by my friends) may well "grow up" to be the mayor with illegal side arrangements with real estate developers. Fight corruption in your own behavior as well. Obey the law.

C. A juxtaposition of two comments made to me by two Israelis.

Comment One: (On the Israel she knew growing up, in the 50's and 60's). Yes, Israel was not rich, but we were also not poor. We did not have as much, but we were happy. It was good to live here. People really cared for one another and cared about the State. It was a community.

Comment Two: (On the changes in Israeli society and the claims that the upper classes are disconnected from the rest of the country). Can you blame people if they want to give their kids all of the things they did not have growing up?

Herein lies the rub. Getting back the idealism may entail some amount of trade-offs. It may entail giving up some of the things people did not have growing up but that they are now able to give to their children. Like, for instance: misery, cynicism, obsessive keeping up with the Joneses, rampant consumerism, self-absorption, and complete disregard and disrespect for the law when it interferes with your shopping or any other pleasure. On the flip side, this may also involve people giving their children what they did have when they were growing up: happiness, community and pride in their country.

Yeah. Definitely. A tough call.

The further we went the hotter the sun got, and the more rocky and bare, repulsive and dreary the landscape became…. There was hardly a tree or a shrub any where. Even the olive and the cactus, those fast friends of a worthless soil, had almost deserted the country. No landscape exists that is more tiresome to the eye than that which bounds the approaches to Jerusalem. The only difference between the roads and the surrounding country, perhaps, is that there are rather more rocks in the roads than in the surrounding country.

The Innocents Abroad, 1869 Mark Twain

To help you decide, I offer you the Jerusalem Forest. Trust me, this makes perfect sense. The generations we most admire are the generations that carpeted the "tiresome terrain" with green. Next time you have a free afternoon, head over there and spend some time enjoying the trees and nature. While you are there, think! Here is the choice. Option number one: you can give your children the forests you had growing up, the forests you were proud of, the forests that represent so much of what is good about Zionism. Option number two: you can give your children a land where there used to be forests back in the days before developers greased the right palms, and the forests were illegally razed in favor of yet another "exclusive" neighborhood.

D. A Conversation With Myself

Me to myself: I love this country. If I ever get married, my relationship with Israel approximates the relationship I hope to have with my husband. I never really understood the mechanics of how people could stay together for years without going stark raving mad and getting sick of one another. Israel has taught me. I came here out of fascination and infatuation. I have stayed out of love and passion, a love that is almost indescribable and that exists despite the myriad of and warts and faults Israel bears and which I have gotten to know over the last seven years. Recently, someone asked me (seriously) if I would be interested in working in the US for a few years. The very thought of being separated from the מולדת, my homeland, for an extended period reduced me to something of a mental panic. This is love. This is my home.

אם תרצו, אין זו אגדה!" תיאודור הרצל

"If you will it, it is no dream!" Theodore Herzl

This is my home. This is your home. Either we do it right or we do it wrong but whatever path we choose, we have no other place. But honestly, I do believe that we can transform the State of Israel into everything it should be. Yes, the challenges we face are huge ones, but think about how much we have done so far. Look at Israel and look at other countries that were established around the same time. Look at where we are compared to where they are. Look at what we have had to deal with. This place is amazing and a testament to the people who built it. The times are different? The people are different? I disagree. The times are the same; it is just the nature of the challenges that have changed. And as for the people? We are the same people. We are just as good and just as strong. We can do anything…if we choose to. If we will it.

עורי עורי דבורה. עורי עורי דברי שיר." שופטם ה יב

"Awake, awake Devora. Awake awake, utter a song." Judges 5:12

Make a choice. Start with a little exercise. Israel spent approximately a gazillion shekels on her 60th birthday celebrations. Ask yourself this: what would need to change here in order that, by the 70th birthday, the government could spend nothing —no official birthday song, no air shows, no fireworks, no logo, no excessive Israel Award prizes—and you would still spend Yom Haatzmaut with a goofy grin on your face and you would still plaster your car, your home and your children with Israeli flags. Now sit down. Write up a list. Then get up, go out and make it happen.

Crossposted to 60 bloggers

Haveil Havalim #156 is up...

The Happy 60th Birthday Israel edition is up at Jack's place!

Time

The usual caveats apply. This was written in August 2002, at around 2 AM when I was too stressed out to sleep. As in, a long time ago and at a particularly tough time. Life is much better now.


********************************************************************************

I have a really nasty confession to make. Last week, when I learned that Americans had been injured in the Hebrew University bombing, one of the thoughts that went through my head was “Thank God! I am off the hook!”

"Off the hook for what?", you ask (even as you wonder how I could ever be so callous). Trust me, four months of this, and you would be callous too. Ever since the bombing, I have been, if you will excuse my pun, bombarded with requests. Can I do this interview? Can I come speak to this group? I feel as though I have become something of a poster child for victims of suicide bombings. This may be an overstatement. Maybe Israelis who are injured go through the same thing. However, what I have heard, over and over, is that I am special. I am not special because of the extent of my injuries. In comparison to many, my injuries were not at all extensive. Nor am I worthy of note because I displayed bravery in the face of danger. There was no bravery here. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rather, I am special because I am a native English speaker. To be more specific, I speak English with an American accent. As of last Thursday, however, there is a whole new crop of American English speaking Poor Sad Victims Of Terror ® available to give interviews. I am off the hook.

But why would I want to be off the hook? I should want to help! I should want to raise awareness! (And, ahem, money). I should be elated and honored to meet with every last solidarity mission that comes through this country. I should be begging for the opportunity to share with them my poignant-but-gutsy story. I should be grateful for the chance to explain, for the 100th time, and probably to the secret disappointment of the questioners, that, no, I do not get nightmares and am not particularly traumatized. I should get misty eyed as groups sing Am Yisrael Chai way off key, to cheer me up, and read me letter after letter from elementary school children. (Of course, I should also keep a straight face as they inadvertently read me, with great ceremony, one child’s awestricken letter to a Brave Israeli Soldier ®, even though I am a Poor Sad Victim of Terror ® and not a Brave Israeli Soldier ®).This is my golden opportunityto Do My Part, to Make A Difference. To Pay Back my Debt to Life, the Universe, Everything and the Worldwide Jewish Community…and I want to be off the hook? What is wrong with me?

This is what is wrong with me. For the first month and a half after the bombing, I was not working, and could not do much of anything. The month after that I only worked two hours a day. During that period, if people asked me to sit for an interview, or meet with groups there was no problem. I had the time, I was grateful for the help I had received and I pass it forward. But I never thought that this would last beyond the first month or two. My assumption was that the interest would wane as my wounds healed, and I became less dramatic. That did not happen. Four months after the bombing, I am still fielding at least one or two requests a week. Friends, acquaintances and organizations will write or call with requests. “A solidarity mission is coming to visit and your story is so great, so inspiring, (read: “so likely to raise money”) that we would love if you would speak to them”. Or, “So-and-so is writing a graduate thesis/ filming a documentary/ writing the Great American novel/ working on a very deep and meaningful conflict resolution project/ whatever and they were looking for good people to interview and your story is so powerful that I gave them your email. I hope you do not mind”.

I do mind. I really do. Although I am still undergoing treatment, and probably will continue to do so for approximately the rest of my natural life and perhaps a couple years beyond that, I really am trying to get my life back on track. Last month I went back to school and started working half time. As of now, August, classes are in full swing, I am working close to full-time and have finally come off the dole. To summarize, for two months now I have been juggling all of the elements of real life: work, classes and homework with the critical elements of being a Poor Sad Victim of Terror ®: administrative fun with National Insurance and countless doctors’ appointments. I do not have time for this. As difficult as it has been for me to learn how to do so, my nice American-accented English is now expressing the word “No”.

But if I chalk my feelings up to a lack of free time, I am only telling half the story. The other half goes something like this: “I am sick sick sick of this god-forsaken, stupid bombing and of being a god-forsaken stupid bombing victim. I want it all to go away”. This has nothing to do with trauma. I emphasize this because whenever I mention this aspect of being Poor, Sad Victim of Terror ® to people, their faces immediately take on this sad, ‘I-understand-your-pain’ expression. They speak to me in slow, gentle tones just dripping with concern: “of course, it is painful to re-live it”. To clarify. I am not traumatized. I am not in pain. I am stressed and I am irritated. To use the vernacular, I am royally pissed off.

Here is what all of you seem to be forgetting. You can put terrorist activity in a defined space. When you have time, and to the extent you have time, you can take it out and play with it for a spell. You involve yourselves. You read articles. You send checks. You write your representatives in Congress. You are all very sincere and well meaning and believe that it is so important that those outside Israel really understand what is happening and understand what we Poor, Sad Victims of Terror ® go through. Then, when you are done being sincere and well-meaning, or if you discover that it does not fit into your schedule this month, you can go off and do other things.

You are dabbling in my bombing. I am wallowing in it. I cannot escape. What am I supposed to do—say I am done with it? Ignore it? My entire life has been taken over by this, this, THING, and it will be taken over for the foreseeable future. It is now nearly four months out, and I have five doctor’s appointments next week. At a minimum, I will literally be dealing with the medical treatments for the next year and a half. I still spend at least several hours a week dealing with National Insurance. My career, my earning power and my absorption into a new country have all been shoved back six months to a year. Beyond the obvious fallout there are other, more subtle intrusions. The bombing has leached into the simplest of my actions. I choose to wear a sundress because there is a heat wave—and have to bear people staring at the scars on my arms and legs all day. I went to the beach with friends and had to put on mounds of sunscreen and rent two umbrellas because I am forbidden to sunbathe. I went to a sandwich shop with my cousin and had to ask the staff to turn off the music so I would be able to enjoy a conversation during the meal. I went on a blind date and ended up waging a futile battle with my hearing aids as they picked up every conversation but the one I was having. I made the mistake of explaining the situation to the guy. Instantly, I stopped being Gila the person and was transformed into Gila the Poor, Sad Victim of Terror ®. I spent the rest of the evening answering questions about the bombing. Needless to say, he was not interested in me, even though he found me so sad, equally brave, is sure I will meet someone and wished me a refuah shlemah. Can’t I do ANYTHING without that stupid bombing coming along?

I am just so tired of the whole thing. I am sick of doctors, sick of the hospital, sick of National Insurance, sick of my hearing aids, sick of my glasses and sick of my scars. I am sick of people asking me about my recovery. I am sick of being stressed out—so stressed out that here I am sitting at my computer at 2:00 AM because I am too wired to sleep. In short, I am sick and tired of being a bombing victim. The last thing I want to do now is give this bombing more of my life. There are new American injured? Yofi. I am off duty and off the hook.

Haveil Havalim #164 The No Names Edition

I have been working on some various projects and my blogging has taken a bit of a backseat. Fortunately, the rest of the blogosphere has been busy. Check out the latest and greatest at Simply Jews.

Which has, incidentally, one of the coolest symbols out there....

In light of the comments, I have added a link to the explanatory post. Word to the wise--if you value your computer screen and keyboard, do not read while eating or drinking.

In honor of Six Million

1983. Ofra Haza and the State of Israel giving Hitler an update on the current state of affairs.

Sometimes, success really is the best revenge.

:)

Hearing aid update

Today I had a mold made for a new, in-the-ear hearing aid. It really is a simple process--you go in, the technician crams lots of sponge down your ear canal (which hurts) and she fills up the rest of your ear with putty which then dries in the shape of your ear. The new hearing aid should be ready in about two weeks.

While I was there, I asked the technician , Rachel, about the Lyric hearing aid (which was featured in a New York Times article forwarded to me by pretty much everyone on the planet). Her response: well, you know how it really hurt when I put the sponge in? And how you whined that it was making the nerves in your jaw go haywire? Well, that is because you had surgery on your ear. And the Lyric is going to go in even further. It will hurt even more!

So, no, I will not be going for the Lyric. :(

As an aside, should one's hearing aid technician be happy that another hearing aid might cause one pain? Does that mean Rachel is a sadist? Should I be concerned? Or do you think that this is simply a little quirk she has and that she is otherwise harmless and would not do anything untoward to my new hearing aid?