Boris Kupershmidt, who sends me tons of stuff every day, links to the perfect antidote for those West Bank Blues.
Here’s a tale of real heroism.
Whenever I read stuff like this from WWII, I’m reminded of when I saw Saving Private Ryan the first time. Saw it on the big screen with the girl I was dating then, and we were both moved beyond words.
So we crossed the street to an Appleby’s or some other family chain restaurant, where we could sit and pretend to eat dinner while we got quietly drunk.
A couple tables away, I recognized the woman who’d been sitting next to me in the theater. I took notice of her because she kept covering her face during the worst bits of movie carnage. Watching her after, gaily eating her meal, I just wanted to grab her by the shoulders and tell her, “If our grandfathers could do that, the very least we can do is watch it.”
I was just in total unbeleiving awe of how blithe a person can be, of how unaware we can stay of our surroundings if we only cover our faces. I really should have told her off when I had the chance.
On a day like today, I don’t think I’d hold back again. We’ll be eating dinner at home tonight.