Growing up in my family, we didn’t have BBQs on Memorial Day. While my friends invited me each year to pool parties and bonfires in our sunny San Diego neighborhood, I always had to decline. When I was younger, this was a huge and miserable reality – Memorial Day was never about new bathing suits and burgers because I grew up in a military family. My grandfather flew in George H.W. Bush’s squadron in WWII, my dad is a Vietnam veteran, and my mother, who just retired, was a Captain in the USNAVY. It’s true! A Jewish girl from Brooklyn became a Captain in the NAVY! I spent Memorial Day at Camp Pendleton or on an aircraft carrier in our port listening to the music of the NAVY band. And when they began their lively rendition of “Anchors Away,” my grandfather, my mom and my dad would proudly stand. And all of my resentment at missing the social events of my neighborhood would melt away and be replaced with pride. The difference between memory and history is so intriguing. History assumes a level of objectivity – and memory is about perception and emotion. It’s difficult for us to untangle our feelings about a moment in history, so our memories become tapestries – many different colors woven together – our commentary in the margins. Memories are fragile and sometimes erratic. Over time, our memories of events and concepts change, molded by our evolving perspective. And even so, the Torah still commands us to remember and transmit our memories to others. As I grew up, I understood that my parents experienced Memorial Day differently because of their memories. And by passing that perspective down to me, they gave me the opportunity to become part of a collective memorial experience. As Jews, we experience the weight of collective memory in every ritual, every holiday, every lesson we teach our children. And we’re responsible for continuing to nurture our memories from generation to generation. This Memorial Day, I will be putting sunscreen on my children and taking them to the pool and hosting a BBQ. But I will also make sure they hear the story of their grandparents and great-grandparents. And when they’re older, they will remember how they watched us give back in such a meaningful way - when they watched us believe in the power of our memories. This week is Memorial Day. Let’s take a moment to think about our own memories, and how we can keep them alive to secure the future of our community here, in Israel, and around the world. Shabbat Shalom!
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