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Harriet Gimpel

Toilet trainee and 2 school girls in a shelter

A toilet trainee and two schoolgirls in a shelter just past 5:30 PM on October 7, 2024 – commemorating October 7, 2023. Haim’s daughter had a doctor’s appointment. I took her three daughters to after-school activities at the country club. The fifth grader was finished, busy watching TikTok clips. The first grader was coloring. The 2-1/2-year-old, diaper in place, wanted to use the toilet.

As I opened the bathroom door, the oldest ran to tell me my phone signaled an alarm in Kfar Saba, where I live, the next town over. Then a siren was loud and clear in Raanana. I carried the little one. The other two stayed by my side. We joined the clamor with sweaty adults coming from the gym and children from other classes heading for the shelter. The calming effect of responsibility. We waited, heard interceptor booms, waited 10 minutes, resumed arts and crafts, and toilets, answering telephones from worried parents and calling others.

Leaving the country club, the first grader started singing a song I didn’t expect her to know. She explained. “It was part of the ceremony in school today. We were forbidden to clap after the performance. Because it was a sad ceremony.”

Ceremonies – 24/7, testimonies and documentaries. Reminding us how sad we are. Still, a day of routine.

Driving from the pool to work, my voice identification skills activated without giving it a thought when I turned on the radio, in the middle of an interview. The woman said something about her husband. Immediately, I knew it was Aviva Seigel, Keith’s wife. She was released from captivity during the November ceasefire. I recognized her voice, similar to her frequently broadcasted daughter’s voice demanding the release of her father. I wonder about Gadi Mozes, my friend’s uncle, hostage in Gaza. (In my heart, I adopted him, made him my uncle, and I want him home!) #BringThemHomeNow – 101 hostages.

In a Zoom meeting with my West Bank colleagues, young parents mentioned their children’s sleepless nights since the Iranian missile attack. They don’t have the rules for where to go if you don’t have a safe room. They don’t have home safe rooms. We sent them a video clip in Arabic prepared for Palestinian citizens of Israel. Do our West Bank colleagues not receive this information because under occupation, Israel isn’t concerned with their wellbeing, or do they reject receiving helpful information from the occupier? Inconsequential. Three days later, a Palestinian mother on our team missed another Zoom meeting, called to school because of her daughter’s disturbed state of mind ever since that night.

Media focus is on attacking Iran. I want this war to end. Yet, difficult to disagree that Iran’s nuclear facility needs to be destroyed. I don’t want a world war. I don’t want the US dragged into war. I don’t want more people killed. Deep in the ground as Iran’s nuclear plant is, can it be destroyed without casualties? Implications of its potential unfathomable. Naïve international agreements in my imagination enable clearing Lebanon of munitions and destroying tunnels prepared for Hezbollah’s conquest of Israel.

Not a military analyst. Thinking about traditions as Yom Kippur approaches. The Day of Judgment. Not ours to judge, and yet can we refrain, and how dangerous that might be, if we were to refrain from protesting injustice. Judging from what I have heard in the past year, I would not want to be a Jew facing rising antisemitism abroad.

A story about the impact of October 7 on American Jews in the New York Times was brought to my attention: Jews previously disengaged turning inward to the community searching for safe space. Welcomed without attack should they back Israel. But I hope they are safe in such safe spaces when they question Israel’s actions. Please, in the safe places, give them the take I got on Jewish values. Tell Israel’s story with critical reflection – without skipping over the Nakba, without carte blanche justification Israeli violence. Resonating with a message to enable the Jewish people and the State of Israel to fulfill its moral potential.

At the end of this October 7, humbled by the afternoon sirens. Thinking about parts of Israel dealing with sirens day and night. Tired. A rash – my go-to stress release. Fell asleep. Woke up at 11:30 PM – another siren! We went into the safe room. We heard the neighbors’ footsteps above us. We heard their heavy-duty safe room window close. I noticed I was trembling. I don’t know why.

Harriet Gimpel, October 11, 2024, Erev Yom Kippur, 5785

About the Author
Born and raised in Philadelphia, earned a B.A. in Near Eastern and Judaic Studies from Brandeis University in 1980, followed by an M.A. in Political Science from The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Harriet has worked in the non-profit world throughout her career. She is a freelance translator and editor, writes poetry in Hebrew and essays in English, and continues to work for NGOs committed to human rights and democracy.
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