Monday was Yom HaShoa, Holocaust Remembrance day, and my homey Young Hebrew Brother sent me this: "20 Photos that Change the Holocaust Narrative." The photos themselves and the stories behind them all really have a "wow" quality. it got me thinkin about the role of the Holocaust in my own narrative.
I remember Yom HaShoa Day at Jewish Day School. They took us to this assembly in the gym and a lot of the teachers were just crying. I think the only other time I've ever seen a teacher cry was when Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated. it's like when you realize your parents are real people, which for me happened about a week ago.
i was in the choir (i know, i know. shout out to Ravid) and at the assembly we sang this song that all my classmates will remember but that non-Jews probably have never heard. it's kinda JewPower'ed out. It goes: "think of the grandfather you never kissed / all of the relatives that you have missed / first raise your voice and then raise your fist / and tell the world 'never again.'" it goes harder: "memories as they grow older/ tend to grow colder, then disappear/ though you never met me, you must remember me/ now that I'm gone."
THAT'S SOME HEAVY SH*T MAN!
i mean for real. not just teaching the younger generation about the Holocaust, but teachin THE OBLIGATION TO REMEMBER the Holocaust. it reminds me of the Passover obligation to feel as if "you personally" were liberated from slavery in Egypt. My Saba always adds at the Seder, "as if you personally came out of Egypt, and out of Auschwitz." I think that's not uncommon.
recently, I visited my Saba and Savta ("grandfather" and "grandmother" btw) at the Jewish old age community (is their a better way to say that?) where they live. Saba introduced me to one of his friends, and told me he was a Holocaust survivor. one of Saba's other friends, a retired professor, took that as an opportunity to ask, "by the way, i've been meaning to ask you, how can you believe in God after the Holocaust?" cuz that's the kind of thing you can say when you're an ol' J. crazy. and peep this: the whole time the Holocaust survivor was wearing one of those "Life is Good" brand hats. I'm not making this up.
anyway. here's my favorite Holocaust-themed moment from Curb Your Enthusiasm to lighten things up.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Game Recognize Game
Today I watched a group of unaccompanied immigrant children--defined under Federal law as children under the age of 18, without lawful immigration status, and without a mom or dad able to provide for their care and custody--play floor hockey. On the bus the driver blasted the "All About the Benjamins Remix" and sang along, prompting me to wonder for the umpteenth time why they bleep-out "Hebrews" in the line, "you should do what we do/stack chips like Hebrews." (The only other two words bleeped out in that song are "pussy" and "chocha," which actually mean the same thing, and definitely are not in the same category as "Hebrews." no matter how the Supreme Court defines obscenity. #"the FCC won't let me be or let me be me so let me see.").
Watching these kids play floor hockey was fascinating, and not just because they diligently adhered to the rule about not raising their sticks higher than their waist. it was the spirit with which they played the game. Though (WARNING: culturally-based assumption) my guess is that this is one of the first few times that many of these indigenous children from Guatemala have played floor hockey, they possess a true love of the game. They play honestly; they have no animosity for the opposing team; they have fun when they play.
Though these may seem like simple things, to anyone who has ever played pick-up basketball anywhere in the United States, they are not. I've seen 40-year old men at the JCC play sports with less humility, maturity, and respect than these kids without parents who have no idea what country they'll be living in six months from now. Now this could easily slide into a "noble savages"-type narrative or a "poverty is simplicity" rant or a #first world problems moment. But I won't presume to know what makes them play differently. I just know that they do.
Maybe it's the fact that they're all in this together; "strangers in a strange land." Maybe if they were back in their neighborhoods at home they'd be throwin elbows and talkin trash the way that Reuven, Zak, and I used to do (or at least I did--I'll let Zakface and Freight Train speak for themselves). But maybe there really is something wrong with our outsized American egos and, ironically, our machismo. Your manhood is not threatened just because someone else makes a lay-up. Get over it.
Every kid on a team is told to "go have fun out there," but I've rarely seen anyone able to do it. these kids seem to know how. I'm tryin to figure out why.
Watching these kids play floor hockey was fascinating, and not just because they diligently adhered to the rule about not raising their sticks higher than their waist. it was the spirit with which they played the game. Though (WARNING: culturally-based assumption) my guess is that this is one of the first few times that many of these indigenous children from Guatemala have played floor hockey, they possess a true love of the game. They play honestly; they have no animosity for the opposing team; they have fun when they play.
Though these may seem like simple things, to anyone who has ever played pick-up basketball anywhere in the United States, they are not. I've seen 40-year old men at the JCC play sports with less humility, maturity, and respect than these kids without parents who have no idea what country they'll be living in six months from now. Now this could easily slide into a "noble savages"-type narrative or a "poverty is simplicity" rant or a #first world problems moment. But I won't presume to know what makes them play differently. I just know that they do.
Maybe it's the fact that they're all in this together; "strangers in a strange land." Maybe if they were back in their neighborhoods at home they'd be throwin elbows and talkin trash the way that Reuven, Zak, and I used to do (or at least I did--I'll let Zakface and Freight Train speak for themselves). But maybe there really is something wrong with our outsized American egos and, ironically, our machismo. Your manhood is not threatened just because someone else makes a lay-up. Get over it.
Every kid on a team is told to "go have fun out there," but I've rarely seen anyone able to do it. these kids seem to know how. I'm tryin to figure out why.
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