Mishmar HaEmek is where the defense of Israel began. The stories that our guide, Boaz Hadashi, told, reminded me of why I came to Israel in the first place. His discussion of history and the beginnings of the defence movement made me realize the position of Israel today, the importance of co-existence, the humanity of socialism, and the possibility of the future. I would love to be able to see what he does with Korea and Japan, where he’s leading a trip this summer. Look for him here
Amazing that in all the years we’ve been going on trips around Israel, we never go to the same place twice. Today was perfect for getting away from the news, which have been and continue to be cliffhangers by the second. We walked on the Megiddo trail for hours and now I see I’m too tired to find pictures or tell you about the amazing guide we met at Mishmar HaEmek. In a way his stories were the perfect antidote to the news today.
But you’ll have to wait for tomorrow to hear about it. In the mean time check out the background: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mishmar_HaEmek
I could think of a thousand things we’re waiting for – everything from whether we’ll be shooting down another missile from Yemen tonight to whether our elevator will get stuck again this week. But the tension of what will happen with the hostages is the worst – will they be returned? who will be returned alive? what condition will they be in? when will it happen? Will it be tonight? Will it start next week? After 465 days…
Each individual is so significant – my mind keeps shifting from one to the other. One after the other. I dream of embracing each child, each woman, each man, each soldier.
But why should I break your heart as well as mine? The answers will come soon. Be still. Wait.
Everyone talks about numbers. How many days, how many hostages, how many soldiers.
The numbers are always about loss, how much time has passed, how many soldiers have been killed, how many hostages – who knows really.
i sometimes imagine that there are more sets of numbers than we think of – how many artificial limbs, how many babies born in captivity, how many ptsd victims.
We don’t always see the individuals. Each human being. And their connection to our lives.
Here’s one example. Giora Leshem, who years ago helped me with translating poems and welcomed me into the literary community, wrote one of my favorite poems about exile, “My mother’s tongue is not my mother tongue.” It only occurred to me last week that it was his granddaughter who had been captured from the Nova party. I’ve watched his daughter repeatedly on TV talking about her daughter, Romy Gonen, and noted her familiarity. But I didn’t put it together. The personal connection.
My watch keeps telling me that I’m too excited. My heart is doing all kinds of flip flops, and I’m really looking forward to an unrelated zoom this evening.
But tonight – tonight is going to be one of those revenge nights from Yemen, with a lot of alarms, running upanddown the stairs, and no sleep.
Its been a difficult week, figuring out how to do google invitations for a zoom. But now it works and it will be easy to do in the future, so i can teach others to do it – instead of me.
And I may even do an event of my own for my 80th birthday.