קונצרט מולדת - הביתה | HOMELAND CONCERT

The pornography of disasters

 These are just chapter heads that I write in my head. I decided not to comment on other blogs that refer superficially and without real knowledge to what is happening here. People take what they are given and I don't blame them, it is what it is.                                                                                                                              Filmed dramatic disasters bring high ratings. One moment you are a victim and the next moment you become the forces of evil because of the pornography of the disasters. As if there wasn't a continuous sequence of events, of history, of reasons, of facts.                                                                                                      Someone anonymous wrote here yesterday a correct and very comprehensive comment about the truth and facts here, but after a moment he deleted it. I regretted it, even though this blog was not supposed to deal with politics in the first place. But this is no longer politics but life itself here.                                Now we are in danger from the Houthis in Yemen who are firing missiles to the south, the Hezbollah in the north who have already destroyed entire settlements, this morning something was fired from Iraq, and of course still missiles from Gaza. And still we are the bad guys in the story.                                     

Merry Christmas

 To all my friends here, old and new, I wish you a happy holiday, may it be delicious, bright and full of joy. Merry Christmas.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

Everyone wants to be right.

 In my childhood I was the only one of my friends who had grandmothers. One of my grandmothers fled Germany in 1933 and the other arrived here before that. The grandmothers of my friends stayed in their countries in Europe, and the end is known.I was also one of the few who had cousins and a large extended family, my friends didn't, their grandmothers disappeared there with the children and the whole family.                 The people who still came here after the war didn't talk much and little by little I started to find out what they went through. As a child I always wondered if I would manage to survive, and how, I had dreams, like many children of my generation, that I was hiding and being chased.                                          I think that something from this feeling of persecution is deeply embedded in our DNA, mine, otherwise I have no idea why in times of distress here, in times of deep fear I try to find support, if only with a kind word right here in Blogland, as if this is supposed to be the safe place, but it is not so for some people. People have opinions, they cling to them forcefully, they also have their fears.                                                                              Everyone wants to be right.

More thoughts

 I think I found the answer to why I get so upset and comment so emotionally on such and such posts in Blogland.

I realized what role the blog plays in my life now.

I function well day by day, of course there is a cloud of slight anxiety and attention that accompanies me

But it doesn't have much emotional expression.                                                                                                               The blog is where the emotions come out. The fear, the great anxiety, lack of acknowledgment, and the great need for a kind word and comfort.

Around me, in the place where I live, everyone feels the same, and most of the people I am with on a daily basis allow themselves very little expression of feelings in our daily life, it probably protects us.                                               I probably attribute much more power to what people write than it really has, just because here on the blog the emotions work stronger. The great fear comes out, the anger, the helplessness, the deep concern, the lack of confessions, the helplessness, and the guilt.

I argue with comments on blogs and then won't sleep at night because of it. I'm not good at arguments, I have no experience with it in real life.                                                                                                                             Our life here has changed so much and it is impossible to know what the future will be here, I want to write about it, but it is clear to me that there will always be someone who will comment "yes, but what about Gaza?", yes, suffering is compared to suffering and I have nothing to do with it.                                                                                                              

If the cards were dealt differently

 I try to think what I would write or say if I were somewhere else, in some place in the world where bloggers come from. What would I write if any of the blogland people were in danger of life, living in great anxiety and trying to put what is happening into words here. Would it be very important for me to be objective? Would I try to reflect to him how wrong and inappropriate the way the people who are leading the situation is? Would I understand that he also has no control over the situation?                                                  Would I ignore his pain and would I write superficial comments that try to balance and compare the situation of the attacker and the attacked at the same time?                                                                                            I don't think I would do that to a virtual friend even if I never meet him.

And a few more words--

My heart also aches for the citizens, children and women of Gaza. And maybe that's precisely why my reactions are so emotional, I seem to feel a little guilty even though I'm not bombing anyone. The citizens of Gaza are not our enemies, only the people of Hamas.

This time the only way is to bomb their weapons stockpiles and drive them out of Gaza. There is no other way. Hamas prevents the citizens from leaving the dangerous places and they are its victims.                                      Despite the comments of the good majority here, the feeling is of loneliness in blogland, there is no one here like me.

                  

 Blogland is not a good place for Israelis or Jews at this time.

I know there are many good people here but the other minority breaks my heart.

Day fifty eight

 There is no ceasefire. Guess who broke it?

I can't understand why they do this and how they have no mercy for the people they use as human shields.

On Friday I planned to be at my daughter's house for the evening because I thought there would still be a ceasefire, of course I stayed at home and as soon as the alarms started I saw that rockets were being fired towards their place as well. I always wait ten minutes which is the recommended time to stay in the protected room (for those who have one) and then call to ask if everything is okay. Everything was fine then.                                                                                                                                                                               We decided that I would come on Saturday morning but I was afraid, in the previous round I knew more or less when they would shoot and I could guess when it was worth going, this time I decided to wait and see what the rate and range were at which they shoot. I haven't been to them yet.                                               Yesterday I went to buy some things in the small town next to us and it is impossible to describe the sadness I see on the faces of the people, everyone knows someone who was killed, kidnapped, captured or missing. This country is very small.                                                                                                                                  There are still more than a hundred people in captivity. They are not in a hurry to release the young women, it is clear to everyone why, but nobody talk about it openly.

Yesterday I saw on TV a 97-year-old woman who managed to escape from her house in Kibbutz Beri, her Filipino nanny was murdered, the terrorists were already in her house, but she went out with her walker and found someone who drove her outside the kibbutz that was already destroyed and burned and managed to get to a safe place. A 97-year-old woman, her son was murdered there and her grandson was kidnapped to Gaza.                                                                                                                                                        There are hours when if you don't turn on the TV and don't look at the iPhone, life seems to be normal, but the soul knows that it is not really so.

The grandmothers who returned from captivity

 They were taken from their homes that Saturday morning. Some of them after hiding in the protected room in their houses when the terrorists were shooting and burning their houses, they could no longer breathe the smoke and left. On the way to captivity they saw the bodies of their friends or their children or their husbands on the sidewalks near the burned houses.                                                                                           The terrorists drove them on motorcycles or on the scooters they stole from them or took them barefoot on a dirt road with spikes, women in their seventies, eighties and eighty-five. The terrorists filmed it on video and they look very amused and happy there. They make fun of the older women.                   These women are women who lived near the border with Gaza and every Friday they would wait there with vehicles that they had ordered in advance to take patients from Gaza for treatment in hospitals in Israel. They believed in peace and were very innocent. They did it for years. In the hospitals they took care of the mothers from Gaza who came with the sick children and gave them everything they needed.                      It didn't help them. They were taken captive without medication and some of them did not survive there. The Red Cross received a list of medications but did not see them.                                                        For 54 days they did not shower, ate pita bread a day, divided the pita into four parts, a quarter for each meal, they lost 20 kilograms of their weight in 54 days.

Before returning home, the terrorists let them shower and dressed them in strange clothes, they did not change clothes for 54 days.

Despite everything, they returned proud and upright and asked the families who received them not to cry. These are the women they are.                                                                                                                                       They also really have nowhere to return to because their houses were burned. Some of them have their husbands still in captivity, there are some whose husbands did not survive captivity because he did not receive medicine or was taken wounded and not treated.

Yesterday in a TV report I saw a young couple of parents announcing to their granddaughter that grandma is coming back. The granddaughter said "Grandma is free?" , in what world should a granddaughter say such a thing?