11.13.03
Ignorant Americans in Israel: Part One
My first visit to Tel-Aviv, Israel, a three-day journey to mark the grand opening of what was then Bar-On Harley-Davidson (Tel-Aviv’s dealership is now called G.B.R . Harley-Davidson Israel) gave me a lesson in real-world nastiness — and kindness — the likes of which I couldn’t possibly have imagined. As you read this account, my ignorance (that’s the only word for it) about the horrors that millions of people on this planet have endured while I was busy looking the other way should come sharply into view. But ask yourself, if you’d been in my boots, would you have reacted any differently than I did?
It’s February of 1996. While clearing customs at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel-Aviv, my traveling companions, photographer Jim Schnepf, art director/designer Curt Schreiber, and I each came to the two same conclusions: 1) Security was uncomfortably tight and we were more meticulously screened and searched than we’d ever been; and 2) Israeli women (even, or especially, in uniform) are incredibly beautiful. Friends, conclusion 2 is the world’s best-kept secret.
The dealership’s owner, David Bar-On, met us at the airport to chauffeur us to our hotel. As we rolled through the streets of downtown Tel-Aviv, my fellow Americans and I instantly were struck by all of the very obvious damage scarring many of the buildings and uncomfortably eye-balling each other with “WTF?” facial expressions. So I asked David, “What’s with all the damage?” and he made the kind of facial expression a post-9/11 New Yorker might make when rolling past the site of the former World Trade Center and being asked, “What’s with the hole?” His answer was blunt: “Uh, that’s from Scud missiles fired at us by Iraq during the Gulf War.” (His heavy sigh seemed to say, “Perhaps you’ve heard of it…”)
Now we’re bug-eyed, studying everything with looks equal in measure of how-could-I-not-have-made-that-connection? guilt and the discomfort that comes from seeing fresh war damage through eyes that had never seen such before. Holy shit! Missiles are unfathomably destructive weapons. The mind immediately asks, “What if this happened where I live?”
With several hours to fill before the dealership’s opening event that evening, we three Americans strolled the beach by our seaside hotel, confessing to each other how uncomfortable what we’d just seen had made us. But even now, here on the sand, nothing seemed right. It was a beautiful day, on a glorious beach, but we had the place to ourselves.
The (gorgeous) gal at the ice-cream stand told us that, in light of the frequent recent terrorist attacks in Tel-Aviv, people were cautious and, naturally, tourism was way down and people avoided gathering in large groups that would potentially make easy targets. So now we’re bug-eyed again and whispering things like, “What terrorist attacks?” and “That explains the third degree at the airport.” None of us felt frightened, as far as I could tell. Denial? Our emotions were more of the “How can this be happening and I’m so unaware of it?” variety.
The next 24 hours are going to test the mettle and emotional strength of each of us, in ways we could not possibly have foreseen nor will ever forget.