Toval (Tuli) Gvirtzman
My father's friend Tuli
To read about your father’s friend in press is an honor usually reserved for sons, daughters of billionaires, politicians, celebrities, but in Israel – on Memorial Day – it can happen to anyone.
Unlike Memorial Day in America, Israel's Memorial Day touches almost every citizen. Last night I read a story on Ynet that crystallized the meaning of Memorial Day in Israel – a story about a young, blue-eyed Tuli, who sacrificed his life during the First Lebanon War to rescue his fellow soldiers.
Tuli (Toval Gvirtzman) was my father’s friend. When my family lived in Israel – before our move to the US – we visited his gravesite and his family every year on his commemoration day, the day of his heroic death.
When he was still a child, Tuli served as the inspiration for the children's song "Tulik"
To read about your father’s friend in a newspaper is an honor usually reserved for the sons and daughters of billionaires, politicians, and celebrities, but in Israel – on Memorial Day – it can happen to anyone.
This small, Jewish nation mourns its dead collectively because here every person knows some other person whose life has been marred by the violence of the Arab-Israeli conflict.
But that had not been my experience growing up. Across America, Memorial Day is – quite oddly – celebrated, literally, as a three-day weekend, a reason to buy meat and fire up the grill, maybe take a road-trip with the family.
The US military, vast as it may be, touches far fewer lives in the nation it protects than it does beyond its borders. Less than ten percent of Americans have served in the US armed forces; only half a percent of the population is in active service.
It is thus no surprise that the US Memorial Day is celebrated as a holiday – most people have no connection to the military and have no reason not to enjoy an extra day off. The oft-touted price of freedom is paid by such a small percentage of the population that the average American can only relate on the conceptual level.
But here in Israel, Memorial Day can be nothing but a day of mourning and reflection on the high cost of liberty and security. This is the country in which a memorial service you used to visit every year was in honor of a person who is covered in the papers. This is the country in which the fight for survival reaches into almost every home and every soul.
But this is also a country treading a dangerous path into the future. If recruitment rates continue to dramatically diverge between the urban population and the kibbutz movement, Israel too may one day lose the meaning and significance of its Memorial Day.
