Surely, there is some crime I have committed for having such a beautiful head of hair at 69. I’m very so-so when it comes to me, but the one thing I’m proud of is my hair. The word vanity came from the Latin word vanitas, which means emptiness. People (whoever that means) have debated if I’m a vehicle for the vacancy or someone of substance. At 3:13 in the morning, while in bed, trying to fall asleep, I wish I were someone of substance or meaning, but I often feel like I’m struggling to keep my head above the horror that is, so far, the 21st century.
69 is a sexy number, but it is also the age I have become attracted to my home surrounded by books and music. When I go out, I feel nervous being away from my home, which houses so many things I love, and every time I leave the premises, I silently say goodbye to everything. For most people, the adventure is outside the home, but I’m through reading and writing on a journey that will define my third and last act. I feel nostalgic, but mostly the few minutes after leaving the house and missing being there. I reflect on my favorite reading chair in the living room or the brand new reissues of Charlie Parker 10” albums I bought earlier this week. I often imagine my deathbed and what my thoughts would be. I was with my mother when she passed away or in the house, and I wondered what her thoughts were. I have to imagine that everyone has that thought in their head of what one is thinking when the moment takes one away from living life.
In my deep dive into reading Proust for the last twelve months, I have thought of this, and on one level, the Proust book In Search Of Lost Time are the memories of one slowly fading away from life and disappearing into a series of memories. Like Proust, I have to imagine my last five minutes (or so) on the death bed; my thoughts would drift into memories that, to me, will last for hours, but in truth, it may be in a few moments.
It is also an escape from the reality of what is happening in the Middle East, and I wonder why I feel so emotional or upset about something taking place on the other side of the world. The Israel/ Palestine relationship is something I struggle with, and one is even fearful of bringing it up among friends or enemies. I think what bothers me is that the Jewish People have suffered greatly in the past, and the Holocaust is so horrific that it can’t be imagined. Jean-Luc Godard commented that one can’t film something that horrible. The first time it hit me of such suffering was seeing Alain Resnais’s short documentary Night and Fog (Nuit et Brouillard). My memory may be playing tricks on me, but I think I saw this film in High School, and we may have needed permission from our parents/guardians to be allowed to see this work in a classroom. The image of objects that belonged to the prisoners of the camps piled up high, and a mountain of human hair stayed in my DNA with incredible force. I never felt so sad. The film was made in 1956, and Resnais showed the current grounds of these camps, which is even more disturbing than seeing the camps at the time of their existence. I was traumatized by seeing this film, and I tried to imagine what it must be like to have a family member, or a whole clan in the camps, or the survivors. How can one live after such a terrible experience?
I can’t wrap my head around why Germany in the 1930s would ever find what they did OK. How does one live after that type of crime or trauma? What makes such a remarkable and rich culture like Germany do something like that? Besides those who were arrested and charged with crimes, I think everyone had to think of their role in this horrific piece of dark history.
That includes the French during the Nazi Occupation. Reading about Roman Polanski and Serge Gainsbourg's childhood during those years makes me reflect on their art. They somehow took their trauma and made art out of it. But in their childhood, Roman and Serge had to be on the run from the Nazis. Often going hungry and unable to trust anyone, these two did survive, but it came with a price. That is one of the reasons why I find their work so moving. It is not like they are good people, but the fact that they somehow took something so negative and turned it into works that reflect on a world that wasn’t good to them. Sometimes, I think being an artist is the only sane role to have in one’s life.
Israel came into existence out of pain and trauma. On one level, having a state or country devoted to Jews seems to be the right thing. So it is with great disappointment that their policy with their neighbors, Gaza and the West Bank, is one of great pain. To occupy another land is never a good idea. When one is set upon to control every aspect of another’s life, such a manner that brings resentment, anger, and no future does not make it a happy camping ground. Security between cultures and people only works when there is a mutual need for Peace. Peace brings the economy, health, and the enjoyment of everyday life into focus. I can’t imagine making a neighbor feel bad by living by me, so when you magnify that in the millions or however big the current population is in Gaza and the Left Bank, you as a culture/occupier are not securing a future that is positive and fruitful to another, why would you want to make a large part of the population unhappy? It’s similar to what we did in America with the American Natives in that we stole their land and occupied their homes and property. And then, decades later, do the same to Japanese Americans by putting them in camps during the War. How can anyone think that this was a good idea?
We reached a point of no return. The damage has been done, and I suspect the actions in the last five months will continue forever. Israel will never recover from their actions, and I suspect that the U.S. and others will never look at these days as something to be proud of. It is a catchphrase these days the word trauma, but it is also true. It is hard for me to wrap my head around what it is like to be a teenager both in Israel and Palestine and having to deal with the continuous pain that is inflicted on the people of Gaza and the West Bank. And to be honest, I don’t know how to react to such a dismal and hopeless situation, except I don’t want to be part of that world. But then here I am, thinking of Israel / Gaza and my hair.
Thank you Tosh. Nothing more to say. No words come.
I agree with all of these sentiments. Alas, my last act may require a wig hat...