Another letter from Tel Aviv

Before I fall asleep at night, thoughts pass through my mind until “sleep knits up the ravelled sleeve of care/”. In the past few years, these thoughts have focused on Montreal winters, summer jobs I had, lost love, my Dad, and the roller-coaster of my life, for indeed, my life has been far from routine.

Ever since the virus has erupted, different and less personal thoughts find their way into my rambling thoughts before I slip away for the night.

For example, what was it like listening to propaganda in a fascist or communist state? Being exposed to Goebbels’ vile rubbish or reading Streicher’s shitty, shameless, vile rag? Or getting the news from Pravda? Or gulping up then-Peking’s Ren Min Ri Bao? How long did/does it take to inculcate nonsense, hatred, or stupidity into someone’s head?

Another example, if liberty and freedom are such key values why is it so easy to shut people up in their homes? Why are those guilty of under spending on health care the same people locking us up at home and shoving fear down our throat? How did we cave in so easily?

I have no answers to these questions. However I do hope things will change. Unlike Bernie Sanders who after a heart attack wants to be president, I want to spend my remaining years doing the things I love-but I do hope change will come from those, younger than me, who will not succumb to tyranny on steroids, powered by smartphones.

During the day, other thoughts occupy my mind after I have walked George, exercised, read, blogged and spoken to friends, After all, it’s only 11 AM. What has happened to the voice of expertise, which is totally overwhelmed by social media? Where is the voice of dissent which could be saying, “there is a very nasty virus going around, keep your distance and wash your hands”, allowing life to continue? Is death so taboo that we need lock everyone up? Where the fuck is common sense? Maybe I am the crazy one? “Allonchik, you always look at¬†everything differently; that’s why you married me”, claimed my late wife Hadassah.

Yes, she called me Allonchik-a diminutive of Allon, although I am anything but small.

There will be time. There will be time.¬† There will be time. Time when I will not agree to be locked up in a cage by people who are “caring for my wellbeing” by denying me my basic freedom. But in the meantime, I stay indoors.

I feel like Hans Falada-a stranger in my own land.

 

 

 

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