Jimbo J - Crazy

 

It's day 28 of the war with Iran, and I keep thinking about how I've always heard that it takes about a month to form a new habit, how we've already gotten used to so many aspects of the "war routine": functioning on just a few hours of sleep, taking super quick showers, and using a setting on Waze to find the closest shelter while driving, all while life goes on. It feels like there's a general timeline of when the war with Iran will end, but the escalation in Lebanon is a whole other story. There's a very real possibility that life will go back to normal, more or less, but not in the North. This keenly relevant song is from Jimbo J's new album "It's All Good", written after he returned with his family to Kibbutz Or HaNer in the Gaza Envelope, eight months after being evacuated on October 7th. In his words, he describes in the album "the crazy day-to-day lives of small people living in the shadow of a huge war."

You and I are used to turning off the news every night to not let the sorrow seep through

To live alongside reality and not to let violence pollute the water of the well in our souls

It's crazy that in the midst of all this, another season has begun

And routine is fighting as hard as we are not to give in

Almost half a lifetime has passed since the day we met 

And most of it has been spent in war

It's crazy that in the midst of all this, gel polish

And packages from Shein

Washing machine and dryer, an air conditioning technician

Shawarma Hakosem

And all the while a guitar and a piano

And a question

When will it end

And at night, I hold you and there's noise over there beyond the fence

At first, I would still wake up and ask, what the hell?

And the truth is, I don't really remember anymore

Time passes, time passes

How crazy it is to get used to it

You and I are used to dropping the kids off every morning at the kindergarten

Against a backdrop of smoke mushrooms, we are used to the questions

Of our two princesses who want to know 

What makes us so sad when we hear a helicopter

It's crazy that in the midst of all this you and I want

To watch a show and we give in to tiredness like babies

And the sun wakes us up again on the couch

We haven't had nights for many days

It's crazy that in the midst of all this, a spare key

A swimming pool in Or HaNer

A barbecue, a baby chair, and reformer pilates

Glenlivet shots

In the midst of this, what sound does a tiger make

And a question

When will it end

And at night I hold you and there's noise over there beyond the fence

At first I would still wake up and and ask, what the hell?

And the truth is, I don't really remember anymore

Time passes, time passes

How crazy it is to get used to it

It's crazy that every day I move

Between giving up and dreaming of staying

To plant roots

Every day that passes I only love you more

My love

In the end it will end

Dudu Tassa - Emmanuel

 

When the siren catches me outside, I'll take shelter either in a community shelter, a store, or in another building, whatever's available. I was walking my dog this morning when it happened, and found myself sitting next to a man with two young children, and realized that he was taking on the "Life is Beautiful" approach I've seen many parents adopt in the past few weeks, calmly saying to them "It's meet the neighbors time, and look, we have a special guest and her cute dog, how fun!" I lifted my eyes from my phone to smile at them and tried to remove any hint of worry as we patiently waited for the all-clear. I thought of this video, which was such a delight to see yesterday on my feed amidst all the posts about the war. Here is what Dudu Tassa wrote: "A new video for Emmanuel. In a chaotic world that doesn't give quiet and doesn't allow for a routine, I wanted to stop for a moment and see things through the eyes of a little, innocent girl, who looks at everything with curiosity. I hope she still doesn't feel all the wars that are happening around us."

Watching it, I think of the little girls like Emmanuel over here and in Iran, in Lebanon, in Gaza, and in the West Bank, hoping they will grow up in a much more peaceful world.

Emmanuel laughs at
A bird in the garden, at light and shadow

At the man who walks with her in the city

Emmanuel is a little girl

She doesn't remember what was

She doesn't know that the heart is fragile

Eyes open to see

A smile through the tears

And she always falls asleep

With another song

What Emmanuel dreamed of

No one will know

No one asks

And she doesn't have words yet to explain

Emmanuel

And all the windows are open

In the skies of the city of angels

Only you see them blooming slowly

Emmanuel with the sunrise

Quietly, quietly and not crying

Sees how a shadow passes over the face

Slowly reaches out a hand

One woman and one man

Sleeping deeply between the sheets

And all the windows are open

In the skies of the city of butterflies

Only you see them blooming slowly

dudutassalink.lnk.to/newalbum

Tamouz - I Don't Know How to Tell You

I was very sad to hear today about Meir Israel's death at 73, after battling cancer. Meir was one of the country's leading drummers and was a member of the legendary rock band Tamouz, together with Shalom Hanoch, Ariel Zilber, Yehuda Eder, and Ethan Gedron. I immediately thought of this song and how the drums play such an important part here, echoing tense heartbeats.

I don't know how to tell you

Words cannot express

I am simply a boy who sings to you

Songs will not say anything.

I don't know what is eternity

Words cannot express

I am simply one who surely

Doesn't know anything

Maybe tonight there is no way

There is just injury and pain

I don't know how to tell you

How much I love you

Don't know what happened to me

Words cannot express

And I am alone and sad

And you don't say anything

I am sitting here, waiting for you

Waiting for you and writing

Because I don't know how to tell you

How much I love you.

Thank you Moshe Kaye for the translation.

It's day three of the war with Iran, and I have a feeling we have many more days ahead. I'm still getting used to the new but familiar reality of living with the sirens, but I'm hopeful that this is the storm before the calm, and that there is a chance that we will have a safer reality on the other side of this.