11.13.03
Ignorant Americans in Israel: Part Two
Later that day, we arrived at the dealership just in time to see riders gathering in preparation for a dusk charity ride to a local hospital to visit some children and present toys; a “Toy Run,” in HD vernacular, but entirely different from any of the many we’d experienced. We were struck by the clothing almost immediately as we enjoyed great, “How are ya?” conversations with riders from all over the area – locals plus folks from places like Jordan, Egypt and Jerusalem. Some robes and headwear. Different tongues for sure, but HD, as it does everywhere it flies the orange the black flag, provided the common thread. Just. Beautiful. People.
As bikes were being positioned, David grabbed the bullhorn and announced the itinerary. First stop: The site where Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin had been assassinated by a gunman only two months before. Whoa. Everyone got pin-drop quiet in an instant. Of course I remembered hearing about the tragedy, but news like that, from a place so far away and that we’re so personally unconnected to, seldom really registers, does it? (That’s a very hard thing to admit, by the way.) The bikes roared out in staggered formation, but certainly not joyfully as in every other group ride I’d done. We couldn’t formally stop at the assassination site, so instead we rolled slowly and reverently past the candles and make-shift memorials. To say it was heavy would be a weak understatement. It was hard not making eye-contact with David and the other Israeli riders and feeling their pain and anger. Would it have felt any different to us, rolling past the site of JFK’s assassination in 1963, just two months after?
We roared up to the front of the hospital and, for a few very relieving minutes, it felt just like a toy run. Nurses and hospital staff were obviously delighted by the loud and non-typical visitors. Toys were being un-bungeed from the backs of bikes by excited riders. Surely we were about to bring some joy to a place that, like all hospitals, could use some.
We Americans got the shock of our lives as we began entering rooms to visit the children.
These kids weren’t like the many kids we’d visited at hospitals back home, being treated for illness, broken limbs or disease. Some were in very rough shape – and not for reasons that land American kids in hospitals. Some were burned or otherwise gravely injured. There were missing limbs. Many were victims of terrorist attacks – suicide bombings of buses and crowded places. The most innocent of innocent bystanders. We’d pass a toy onto their beds, or to their parents, but couldn’t bring ourselves to say anything through hard-bit lower lips.
The local riders were sharing stories with the kids and their parents. Some knew each other and took pictures. A handful of the kids were beaming through bandages. Others were too out of it to react at all. To see children in that condition, some bandaged from top to bottom — and to visualize what caused their injuries — causes a to-the-bone pain I hope you never have to feel. I couldn’t last more than a minute without racing into an empty room to collect myself. And, to be perfectly honest, to hide. My buddies were doing the same. It was too hard to bear. We could only imagine what it felt like to the parents; we all had kids at home.
Soon enough, we were on our way back to the dealership, grateful to know that the “hard stuff” was over. If ever there was a group of people entitled to a good time, this was it. The music played, the beer flowed, local beauties modeled the latest MotorClothes, there was epic storytelling and laughter and everything you’d expect from an event at an HD dealership. We partied late into the night with people from cultures we’d only known from junior high geography classes. Or the Bible. So far, this rollercoaster of a day had thrown us in every direction.
I was quite taken by the fact that, even though horrible things had happened and the threat of more death and destruction was palpable, life was continuing and people were going about their daily affairs. David drove us back to the hotel and agreed to stay up even later on a school night and join us for a nightcap. More amazing events are about to unfold.
