It’s been a while between posts. I’m almost ready to share what’s been happening in my head lately but until then this old piece will have to do.  It was John Lennon’s birthday yesterday. Before the date fades again for another year I decided to drag this old piece out, which was inspired by his memory. It was written so long ago, in another country and what feels like another lifetime ago. Re-reading it now, it’s still relevant. Sadly, not much has changed. So happy birthday John Lennon, 74 year-old that you would have been had our world not have been so fucked up. Let’s be reminded – today, tomorrow and again the next day –  to try and stop fucking things up any more than they have already been. Imagine away people x

I only managed to see about 15 minutes of the 11th memorial for Yitzhak Rabin’s murder. I had confused the starting time with the time of Aviv Geffen’s appearance…so made it just in time to watch him sing the same song he sang 11 years ago, minutes before Rabin’s death. The words came on as I made my way through the crowds. This year, the Clintons weren’t invited to speak. Neither were any politicians. They could come to participate, but not to take advantage of the crowd in order to spit meaningless promises at their audience, whose patience and energy were dwindling. As I moved towards the front of the stage I noticed the people around me. Last year, at the 10th anniversary of Rabin’s death, the city square was packed with 250,000 bodies; international journalists, people of all ages, cameras, banners, balloons, candles…this year it was as if only the real stayers came; only the ones who really meant it, with or without Bill Clinton’s speech. This year there was a lot more space to move around, and a chance to really see the faces of the people. As Aviv Geffen left the stage and a young girl came on to sing the national anthem, I realized that I had missed David Grossman’s keynote address. He is a well known left wing author, whose son was killed in Lebanon the day before the cease-fire… I realized I’d almost missed the most intense dose of peace and love available in this country. The presence of the people around me (singing the anthem) has been growing thinner and thinner with every year that passes. It is so hard to talk about peace here, to still believe that it may happen one day. But thank goodness for these people who still manage to find a way to believe. I looked around and understood that the future of this country depends on them; nothing else would make a bigger difference. The memorial ended. People kept standing. No one wanted to leave. The song that Rabin himself had sung at the peace concert 11 years ago came on in the background – Song of Peace. Everyone seemed to be in a sort of daze. They slowly started dispersing, miming the words of the song to themselves, as if in some weird kind of dream state. Then groups of people began moving faster and dancing to the music. It was over, for another year. Lots of people kept standing there, staring at the crowds, not wanting to go anywhere. And then there was what Alanis Morrisette may have described as an ironic moment (but I would just call it a strange coincidence)…Imagine by John Lennon came on. People quickly swapped the words they were mouthing for the words to Imagine. I was still taking it all in in the background. Suddenly, the CD started jumping. The words became muffled and twisted and broken. Then, just like that, the song died…just stopped!!! I burst out laughing, along with a woman who was standing next to me. She read my mind and said “It’s too hard to even imagine it anymore huh?” On that note I turned around and started walking home. I’d caught a glimpse of the peaceful people in this country at least. I’d get home to see how many people in Gaza had been killed over the weekend. I’d have to watch the once centrist government slowly but surely turning right wing again. I’d have to keep wandering what would happen next for the rest of the year…but I would have in my memory all those people who turned up in the cold and the rain to give peace a chance once again. And if David Grossman, who had lost his son to war, could still stand up there and plead for it…maybe, maybe – I thought – others could be convinced to do it too.

(2006)