The morning after
Filed under: General, Holidays, Immigrant Moments, Life
by Abby
I used to think it was weird that Israel’s Memorial Day and Independence Day are back-to-back. As the sun sets on Memorial Day, we go from eulogizing to dancing – in the same ceremony. The shift feels jarring.
But this year, I finally understood what Prime Minister Netanyahu referred to as “the unbreakable bond between Memorial Day and Independence Day.”
My husband and I visited Jerusalem’s Mt. Herzl, Israel’s national cemetery and its main military cemetery, on the morning of Yom Ha’atzmaut (Independence Day). The day before, it had been filled with somber families and politicians. The morning after, it was quiet. Bouquets and wreaths, memorial candles and black-beribboned Israeli flags adorned every one of the too-many graves.
The flowers were just starting to wilt. The plastic bags in which they’d come — imprinted with the words “Yehi Zachram Baruch,” “May their memory be a blessing”– overflowed the trash bins. Exactly how many stems, I wondered, did the government purchase and distribute at its 44 military cemeteries to lay at the graves of22,993 men and women killed in the line of defense? How much wax, how much blue-and-white cloth and black ribbon were needed to supply all the candles and flags?
Walking among the rows of tombstones, through the underground memorial to the 69 Dakar submarine sailors lost in 1968, and around the blue pool dedicated to the 140 sailors killed on the SS Erinpura in 1943, we saw that many were under 25 years old at the time they fell, and many were immigrants, like us.
We left Mt. Herzl and got on the light rail, where the mood changed abruptly. Instead of handing out fines, the conductors handed out lollipops and wished everyone a happy holiday. We then met up with our son, daughter-in-law and two little grandchildren for a traditional cookout amid throngs of Israeli families fanning the flames of their grills.
That’s when we understood the connection on a personal level. If not for all the brave men and women who sacrificed their future, we wouldn’t have a present to celebrate. They are the reason we were free to scamper around a Jerusalem park with our grandson and granddaughter on Independence Day, wiping their sticky faces from the residue of s’mores and listening with delight to their “Hebrish” toddler talk.
If Independence Day were separate from Memorial Day as it is in the US, the message might not be as obvious. I really get that now.
Google wishes Israel a happy 62nd
Filed under: Business, design, Holidays, Israeliness, Life
One more for Yom Ha’atzmaut #62 years and the Israeli independence annals…seems that Google Israel got in on the celebrations, so in case you missed it:
It’s gone now, but Happy 62nd bday, from the search engine experts.
The Siren and I
As I stood last night at our local community center, flanked by my children while waiting for the siren that marks the start of Yom Hazikaron (Memorial Day in Israel), I had a chance to reflect on how my relationship to this day has changed over the years.
A siren blares in every corner of the country for one minute at 8:00 PM and then for two minutes the following morning at 11:00 AM. The custom is to stand in silence. Cars stop and their drivers get out. Soldiers put on their kumtot (berets).
When I first arrived in Israel in 1984, Yom Hazikaron was an abstract concept. I was just learning about Israeli history and I didn’t know anyone who’d ever fought, let alone died, in a war.
That changed dramatically in 2002 when our cousin Marla was killed in the terror attack at Hebrew University. The full name for the day is “Memorial Day for Fallen Soldiers and Victims of Terror.” The latter part was added only in recent years.
And now as my children get older – approaching or in the army already – my relationship has changed again. If at one time we hoped (though didn’t really expect) that we’d be at peace by the 62nd anniversary of the state, that’s not even on the agenda today.
As Yom Hazikaron transforms into Yom Ha’atzmaut (Independence Day) this evening, a popular understanding is that we can only celebrate if we commemorate those who sacrificed. But there is another, parallel, concept: there is also the moment within the siren itself when we remember and, at the same time – not celebrate as we do on Independence Day – but dream… dream of a future of peace.
Foto Friday – Israel Independence Day is Coming
Filed under: A New Reality, Foto Friday, General, History and Culture, Picture of the Week, Pop Culture, Travel
Israel’s 62nd Day of Independence is coming and the country is bedecked with flags.
© Michael Freilich
All over Israel, the holiday will be celebrated with fireworks…
© Dudi.
And more flags…
© RomKri
As the citizenry continues its peculiar custom of showering friends and complete strangers with shaving foam. Well, that’s better than the other custom of hitting one another over the head with squeaky plastic hammers. And no, I’m not kidding about that.
© RomKri
And of course, Independence Day would be nowhere without its most important tradition, the outdoor barbecue!
© Пётр Рогов
Leo’s grave
Filed under: General, Holidays, Immigrant Moments, Israeliness, Life
My father-in-law, Leopold Laufer, died two years ago on the eve of Yom Ha’atzmaut, Israel Independence Day, a significant date considering his very Zionist roots. A Czech by birth who made his way to the States with his father, mother and sister during the years of World War Two, he spent some time in Manila organizing Zionist youth, and continued in that vein for the rest of his life, working for the good of others as well as making aliyah at least three times during his life. The year that he died was a leap year, so it turns out that his yahrtzeit is actually the day after Yom Ha’atzmaut, but for us, it’s our own memorial day, just in the reverse of the Israeli Memorial Day-into-Independence Day.
We go up to his grave on Har Menuchot (roughly translated as the Hill of Eternal Rest) in Jerusalem on the day of his death, and while it is a hill, technically, in reality it feels more like a graveyard hi-rise. It’s the cemetery for Jerusalemites, given that the more historical Mount of Olives — which also has a much better view — is chock full.
And while we’re not of Sephardic descent — just plain ‘ol white bread Ashkenazi — Leopold Yehuda Laufer is buried in the Sephardic section of the cemetery, surrounded by Maimons and Turjemans, because we preferred the more laid-back Sephardic burial society. It’s sad to visit him, and yet, this year, there were some funny moments. Since he’s buried in a section above a firing range, anything that’s said is punctuated by rapid fire. Noisy and amusing, in turn. And this year, we brought the two new members of the family with us, my twin sons Ziv Maimon – no relation to those buried around Leo — and Lev Yehuda, who is named for his saba Leo.
If you squint a little, you can see the firing range in the distance
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