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Which was dashed out the window.
The past two weeks are hard for me. Not only because of the solemn occasions regarding the various memorial days, them being national Holocaust memorial day and Memorial day which is used as a precursor for Independence day, which is just coming to a close.
Both memorial days are commemorated by ceremonies and a nation wide two minute siren in which we are supposed to stand still and "think" about the dead.
I was never a fan of these events, but since my own experiences in the Second Lebanon War I pretty much loathe them. The people I know who died serving in the IDF or through terrorist attacks, I remember regardless as to whether I stop still in the middle of the street while an air raid siren pierces the air.
I think about the the genocide of my people (and everyone else who was systematically murdered due to who they were) a lot. Probably more than is healthy. I'm not into the whole Shoah as an academic interest or as an intersected period, I pretty much avoid thinking about it in that way.
Any way, the past two weeks have been about me avoiding the public radio, public television and I've basically removed Facebook from my life other than to get some invites and messages to community and activism events.
But I hate these ceremonies; I haven't been to a Holocaust memorial ceremony in years, I try to avoid being in public during the sirens and the one time a year I go to a Memorial day ceremony to listen to the names of the all the people who died during the various and sundry wars Israel has fought all I can think of is, predictably, Sinead O'Connor.
During my emotional turmoil in the months following the war, I listened to Sinead a lot. She had always been a favourite, but in that time I feel like she really saved me. And of the songs I listened to over and over and over again and to which I'm listening now is "Drink Before The War".
( Lyrics )
And well, when listening to elementary school children read out the names of the dead and read poems about soldiers who die in glory but are sorely, sorely missed... I can never help but be moved and think, "look what we're being prepared for".
I don't know if that's cynical or just sad.
But the glory of Jingo is not one I participate in with a whole heart.
Mostly, I just like the fireworks.
The past two weeks are hard for me. Not only because of the solemn occasions regarding the various memorial days, them being national Holocaust memorial day and Memorial day which is used as a precursor for Independence day, which is just coming to a close.
Both memorial days are commemorated by ceremonies and a nation wide two minute siren in which we are supposed to stand still and "think" about the dead.
I was never a fan of these events, but since my own experiences in the Second Lebanon War I pretty much loathe them. The people I know who died serving in the IDF or through terrorist attacks, I remember regardless as to whether I stop still in the middle of the street while an air raid siren pierces the air.
I think about the the genocide of my people (and everyone else who was systematically murdered due to who they were) a lot. Probably more than is healthy. I'm not into the whole Shoah as an academic interest or as an intersected period, I pretty much avoid thinking about it in that way.
Any way, the past two weeks have been about me avoiding the public radio, public television and I've basically removed Facebook from my life other than to get some invites and messages to community and activism events.
But I hate these ceremonies; I haven't been to a Holocaust memorial ceremony in years, I try to avoid being in public during the sirens and the one time a year I go to a Memorial day ceremony to listen to the names of the all the people who died during the various and sundry wars Israel has fought all I can think of is, predictably, Sinead O'Connor.
During my emotional turmoil in the months following the war, I listened to Sinead a lot. She had always been a favourite, but in that time I feel like she really saved me. And of the songs I listened to over and over and over again and to which I'm listening now is "Drink Before The War".
( Lyrics )
And well, when listening to elementary school children read out the names of the dead and read poems about soldiers who die in glory but are sorely, sorely missed... I can never help but be moved and think, "look what we're being prepared for".
I don't know if that's cynical or just sad.
But the glory of Jingo is not one I participate in with a whole heart.
Mostly, I just like the fireworks.
