yom haShoah

Sometimes it's easy to forget I live in Israel. I live in a modern suburb surrounded by new buildings and lush landscaping. The highways are broad and smooth, the hi-rise office buildings are sleek and shiny, and the sushi at lunch isn't half bad.

But this morning, when I flipped on the radio on my way to work, I couldn't help but remember where I live. It's Holocaust Remembrance Day, and there was nothing but sad ballads on every station. Israel has a huge storehouse of sad ballads in every language, but especially Hebrew, to be played nonstop on days of heaviness in this country.

Strangely, I liked it. I started feeling very sober and somehow more adult. Traffic was awful, as thousands headed out for the 10am ceremonies to be held all over the country. Getting to work took me twice as long as usual, but I never lost my patience, and was uncharacteristically generous in letting people cut in front of me.

In the office, I was all alone in my room when the sirens started up at 10am for two minutes of silence, a time when everyone, no matter where they are, has learned to stand silently. Even on the highways, drivers stop their cars and stand beside them to pay silent tribute to the millions of "Martyrs and Heroes" who perished.

I stood by myself, head bowed and eyes closed. At that moment, I was no longer the whingeing wage slave. I was thinking: I am free. So many aren't. Am I doing justice to that freedom by filling my life with value?

Score: C-