Day 104: Colors
Orange
For as long as I remember, Mondays were red, Tuesdays blue. I “see” Sundays as yellow, Thursdays as orange. One explanation is synesthesia — the way the brain interprets inputs from our environment using different senses. I’ve never been formally diagnosed, but it’s a curious bit I can share at parties, or more importantly, that I can use to impress my kids.
Today, I’m not alone in experiencing Thursday as orange. It’s Kfir Biba’s first birthday. The redhead kidnapped in the arms of his mother, Shiri, along with his four-year-old brother Ariel. The “gingis.” His father Yarden is being held separately.
So today, my social media feeds are full of orange balloons, orange birthday cakes, orange birthday cards. In Davos, President Herzog showed Kfir’s photo as part of a panel. In Israel, the radio featured interviews with Kfir’s uncles, cousins, and family friends. And in Hostages Square, they hosted “the saddest birthday party in history” with guests that included popular kids entertainers. Similar events took place around the world.
Orange, brand specialists say, is associated with energy and optimism; with good appetite and high intelligence. Today, it’s the saddest color in the world.
The empty chairs for the Bibas family in my home town, this morning. The high-chair for Kfir says 9 months old, then 10 months, and now with a marker, 1 year.
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Purple
“It was full of purple. Purple everywhere. The three rows in front of Lavi.” This was Y, calling me after a funeral in Har Herzl this afternoon.
Another military funeral. This time, of an alumnus of her mechina, her pre-army program: Oriah Goshen, who fell in battle in the northern Gaza Strip. He was 21.
The purple refers to the color of Givati, Oriah’s unit (and also Lavi’s.) The color of his beret, and the color of the Givati flag.
Oriah Goshen, Z”L, in the photo posted by the Mechina.
Y never met Oriah, but the heads of her mechina spoke about him at a small gathering last night after they heard the news. The kids said they all wanted to go to the funeral, so the administration organized a bus. Dozens of 18-year-old kids went on a day-long “field trip” to the giant military cemetery in Jerusalem.
At about the time the funeral was about to begin, I listened to one of Oriah’s classmates from mechina being interviewed on the radio. He spoke about how Oriah always volunteered, how he was proud to tell his classmates all about the Sigd holiday, and mainly, how he was always smiling.
There were over a thousand people at the funeral, Y told me. This included many alumni of the mechina, including B and several of his friends (those who got permission from their army units.) B sent me a photo taken after the funeral, a selfie from the parking lot: young kids, most in uniform, some in sweatshirts. In normal times — or in a normal place— this would have been a photo of mini class reunion outside a burger or falafel shop. Not one taken in Har Herzl after the burial of someone a year older.
Y interrupted my thoughts. “B also showed me the grave of Ori Shani… remember the guy he met in Kissufim?”
“Yes, the sergeant from Golani 51.” My thoughts drifted again to the rows of Golani soldiers buried a few rows behind Lavi.
“A lot of yellow and green flags…”
Green and yellow. The colors of Golani.
“We saw another soldier sitting by Ori’s grave. We said hi, and he told us he had also been in Kissufim on October 7th. Maybe B met him there before?”
“Maybe, mi vida. Maybe.”
Lavi’s grave this afternoon as posted by Y in her Instagram story. In the background, a Givati flag.
Black
Black is the color of the Bring Them Home Now shirts. Of the banners in the streets. Of the tickers on the news.
Just like blue and white flags felt most appropriate during judicial demonstrations, the color black feels appropriate in the streets these days. The dark winter coats. The dark skies. Because even in crisp, sunny winter days like today, everything feels dark.
A friend told me about an interview she had come across in Haaretz today. A psychologist was trying to answer the question of why aren’t people more politically active, and why there’s a feeling the protests aren’t picking up.
“Why indeed?” I asked.
“Depression. There are estimates that 40 percent of the population is depressed. Clinically depressed.”
To decide to go out, to pick up your sign or your flag, to decide to take action — one has to believe that there is a point to it all. Alongside the rage, or the deep sadness, there has to be an element of hope.
Orange lights in the Knesset, City Hall in Haifa, City Hall in Tel Aviv tonight. And earlier today, thousands of orange balloons in Hostages Square (from Channel 12 news.)