iLiza's eyes

When I was little, I used to be really afraid of the world. I came from a family who didn't travel farther than Disney World, and lived in a suburban town that my 9th grade English teacher said should be deemed "The Best Town in America." Everything outside my bubble seemed threatening. For a while, I was afraid a tornado would come destroy our house. When I told my parents that, they explained that tornados didn't come to Pennsylvania, and I felt better. I remember at some point seeing an article on the Gulf War in Newsweek magazine on my coffee table. There were pictures of soldiers, blood, dirt, and I remember being terrified by it-- thinking that we would be attacked and my perfect little town would turn into the Gulf. My parents made me feel better by explaining that we lived in America and that didn't happen to us because our government was strong; all wars would be fought on someone else's soil, and destroy someone else's town, but it would never destroy ours.

So when I was young, I was the safest little girl in the world because I was cozy in my comfy bubble.

There's an article in the New York Times today about kids living on the Gaza Stip in Israel. The kids play games about soldiers and police officers and jail and terrorism because that's what they live in all the time; that's the way they make sense of their world because their parents can't deny that a war is already there. I used to play cops and robbers too-- but where I'm from cops and robbers is really just another name for tag. These kids pretend to blow themselves up because that's what someone did on their school bus.

I'm going to Israel next weekend, as Israeli troops force their own people out of the Gaza strip, amid much controversy. So today I'm wondering when I started hating my bubble. I figure at some point I began to resent it--somehow I got to this point where I want to run away from it, pop it and immerse myself in all the shit. And I'm about to--I'm going to the place that I used to fear as a child, I'm going to see the children whom I was afraid I would become.

Last year, I got a giddy call from my mom, and a couple of emails from my friends from the "Best Town in America." There was a freak F1 tornado that touched down in the local field and knocked down some trees. I remember laughing, and being so amused that this dinky tornado had blown through my perfect world. Funny how that works, isn't it?

posted by iliza @ 2:53 PM