Joseph Zitt's [as if in dreams] 2024-05-12
Hi. I'm Joseph Zitt. I moved from the US to Israel in 2017. This is my newsletter about more-or-less daily life in my city in the shadow of war. You can select these links to subscribe or unsubscribe. There are more links at the bottom. You can also read this email online here. Here we go...
A single memorial candle burns in our office building's lobby. In the park between my apartment and the House of a Hundred Grandmothers, flags and cards, apparently made by children, cluster on the ground around the memorial for the soldier for whom the park was named. Dogs sniff at them then quietly walk away.
Memorial Day started at twilight. It runs through twilight tomorrow, when Independence Day begins.
In normal years, there are large commemorations and celebrations. I haven't been here for many normal years.
I did the first filming for my movie project six years ago at the large Independence Day event downtown. The city closed off the main streets. It was like a patriotic carnival, with performers, fireworks, stilt-walkers, and foods that we're better off eating only a few times a year.
The next year was the COVID lockdown. I think things were still muted because of the pandemic the year after that.
Last year was normal, I think. I don't actually remember. I see that I did more filming that week, at Roman and Crusader ruins in our town, but I have no recollection, in my head or in my notes, of Memorial or Independence Day.
And now there's the war. As on Purim, there aren't any large outdoor gatherings. There are smaller events, but no massive crowds that might tempt rocket fire.1 They're also trimming Pride down in the larger city south of us, with a single rally on a single day. I don't know if there will be banners.
All the restaurants I see as I walk home are closed or closing. Couples pass me going the other way. I suspect they're headed to the graveyard next door to our office. There are more new graves than usual this year. We have lost several soldiers to the war. In the past week or so, we've lost two more from cities next to ours. Some of the hostages from our city have been returned, but one is still being held captive, assuming that he's still alive.
My family at the House tells of the event there this evening:
"Today's Israeli Memorial Day program was very moving. I got choked with emotion, as did many other people. Music was provided by a man who sang songs while accompanying himself on an electric piano and flashing the words on the movie screen, so we could sing along. The songs were the usual sad songs plus some new ones, including the new standard: אין לי ארץ אחרת (I have no other country).2
"The CEO brought her family, including her brother & his wife, who had survived the October 7 attack on their home kibbutz, & are now living in a temporary home away from the kibbutz. Several people read poems written by or in memory of those who were killed. One of the readers was a new resident whose family was hit hard: two relatives were killed, & two others were kidnapped & later released. We watched a video of a young woman singing a song that had been written by a soldier who had been killed in one of the wars; it had been set to music in memory of someone else who had been killed in the line of duty. The singer, a paramedic in Magen David Adom, was killed while treating the wounded in Kibbutz Be'eri, only a few weeks after recording the song."3
I get home just before 8 PM. I come in and get settled. Right on the hour, I open my door and stand by it.
Sirens start up. We've been expecting them. This time, we know that they aren't alerting us to rocket fire. A half dozen or more sound, more or less simultaneously.
I stand silently. So do most other people around the country. Traffic stops. On the streets and highways, people get out of their cars and stand beside them.
The sirens don't last as long as those we'll hear in the morning. They also don't all end together. Some last longer than others, with the sound taking longer to drop away. I wonder if people are operating them by hand, rather than by a common control signal.
When they end, I close the door and turn back into my kitchen. There are probably memorial events on TV. I don't watch them. I make supper, listen to a podcast of national news, then get back to work on my film.
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Here’s an archive of past newsletters.
You can find me via email, Bluesky, Mastodon, Facebook, and, just out of inertia, X/Twitter. There's more about me and my books, music, and films at josephzitt.com.
The newsletter’s official mailing address is 304 S. Jones Blvd #3567, Las Vegas NV 89107. (I’m in Israel, but if physical mail comes to me at that Las Vegas address, it’ll get scanned and emailed. I don’t expect that to happen much. If you want to send me physical mail, ask me for a real address.)
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L'hitraot.