24 May 2013

Disclaimer: Reading This Blog Post About A Specific Moment Will Take More Time Than The Moment Itself Did

Sometimes the army sucks. Sometimes it's fun, or interesting, or exciting, but sometimes it just sucks. No matter how much I love my job - and I really do - nothing makes me forget that I still have to wear a uniform in this could-bake-cookies-on-the-sidewalk weather. Even a great day in the army is tainted with the fact that I am literally forbidden from wearing anything other than a black or brown hair band in my hair. I can't wear nail polish unless the color is what I like to refer to as a "Grandma color." (Sorry, Grandma!) I have to wake up much too early. If I accidentally miss a belt loop in the morning, I could potentially go to jail. You can see how this utter lack of personal freedom makes a great day at the office still seem restricted and therefore less enjoyable.

But everyone once in a while, when the planets are aligned or there's a blue moon or whatever happens in the universe to make rare things occur, there's a moment of pure happiness that makes everything else disappear. I don't know how often other soldiers experience one of these ground-shaking, smile-inducing, game-changing moments, but I just had my first one this past Wednesday morning.

After attending my first Israeli wedding on Tuesday night, I woke up early on Wednesday and begrudgingly zipped up my uniform to return to the army. It took a full minute and a half of waiting outside for the sweat to start beading on my forehead. My boyfriend Ben and I started lugging our bags down the road, fretting about bus times and the potential punishments for late arrivals. We were gross and sweaty, and more than resentful that we had to return to the army after such a fun night. (Most of the time, at least in my limited experience, moments of pure joy are immediately prefaced by moments that seem completely hopeless, so prepare yourself for a 'But then -'.)

But then, while we walked along the road in a small settlement outside of Teveria, we passed what has to be simply the happiest scene I've ever witnessed. Across the street from us, there was a class of preschoolers, all holding hands in a line behind their teacher to prevent the wanderers from wandering as they skipped and dawdled and ran cheerfully down the shaded sidewalk in this gorgeous town. Even their bright, mismatched clothes couldn't distract from their brighter smiles and beautiful giggles. It felt like the road that stood between us was a clear divide that kept our state of bummed-hood from infecting them. But the road couldn't keep their simple and inexplicable happiness from permeating our little bubble of self-pity, and so the first little girl in the line raised her free hand and waved at the soldiers across the street. Now, you could be the toughest soldier in the world, you could be a vicious businessman, you could be a super-villain, but when a little girl waves happily at you, you wave back.

And so of course I did, which made the goofy smile on her face grow wider, and her arm wave faster. I began making funny faces at her, which she gleefully reciprocated, all the while keeping her hand high in the air. A few of the other kids started waving as well, until we had the attention of all but the ADD kids in the class. That's when the teacher noticed us. She turned to her class and, in the Hebrew version of the very recognizable pre-K-teacher tone of voice, said, "Look kids! How exciting! Does everyone see the soldiers?" The ADD kids tuned in. "Wow! Everyone say thank you! Have a good day! Everyone wish them a good day!" The kids were smiling and shouting as they echoed her words, staring at us in awe as we labored our way down the road. They kept shouting and waving long after we passed them, and their words reverberated in my mind long after I got to my base.

The weirdest and most powerful part of this brief moment was that essentially, it was an interaction between soldiers and future soldiers. When you look at a pre-K class in this country, you know that in about a decade and half, the same kids are going to be the ones with guns slung across their backs protecting the country. This is just a fact of life for them, but it makes their childhoods a little more precious, their laughs a little lighter, their admiration of us a little more endearing. Granted, my job in the army isn't one that requires me to put myself in any great risk. But seeing that class of preschoolers made me ask myself, Is there anything that I wouldn't do for these kids? The army makes us do stupid, pointless things sometimes, but if there's even the slightest connection between the color of my hair bands and the safety of this class, is it even imaginable that I would complain about it?

The answer was no. Of course, the moment passed, and later in the day, the army sucked again. But the memory is strong, and it's much more powerful than the inconvenience of waking up early. So yeah, sometimes the army sucks. But for many different reasons, I'm happier here than I ever thought I would be.

Shabbat Shalom!

4 comments:

  1. Rebex, reading this post immediately after our assembly in preparation for Memorial Day on Monday proved to be very timely. May I say thank you for defending our Homeland? And may I say thank you to Zayda, our American veteran of WWII? Your writing creates very vivid images for me. I almost feel as though I'm there - - - and, if all goes according to plan, I WILL BE SOOOOOOON!!!!!! Shabbat shalom, my proud Israeli soldier.
    xoxo
    Ims

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  2. Hi Becca! Great story. Sorry for the hours of sucking army but you know you're doing good things, and that even some of the things that seem "stupid" stuff may not be so stupid in the long run. In any case, if you come this way, we promise to wave, smile, make funny faces, feed you and let you sleep, too!!! SHABBAT SHALOM!!!

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  3. Profound - and timely, as your ema indicated.
    Hazeqah ubrukhah!
    love,
    cousin steve

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  4. Rebeccala, what a good soul and truly gifted writer you are! You inspire all who know you, and many who know you only through your writing. Israel is in good hands with you.

    Love,

    Daddy

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