Google translate man! :)
Yesterday I took the bus and while sitting and thinking about life (I am 34.5 years old), I put on the song "Margherita" by Shlomi Shabat on the radio.
I began to sing it to myself with exaggerated pleasure and was suddenly filled with nostalgic feelings. Not nostalgic for something specific like "gum girl" or "Walkman" that we suddenly come to read in a meaningless article on some remote Facebook page. I'm talking about nostalgia about how my life was today when I was a kid in Holon, the city I grew up in. Everything felt so different as a child. I have memories of how we used to play football between the garden benches and our mothers who would shout out the window to come home when it was late, or we would go down with the skateboard downhill and do competitions, or play in the guogos or the game I liked most "corners" Separating and throwing one at the other a basketball ball and the goal is for the ball to hit the side of the other in the blocks and return to the one who threw)
Everything felt more alive then, all the neighbors would meet regularly downstairs and sit in the benches and talk while the children play "prisoners." If there was a new TV movie on Channel 4 (the Matav movie channel at the time) or on Channel 2, everyone would be excited to see it as the channel managers set us up and talk about how it was the day after.
If it was boring at home we would play Monopoly, Talisman, Quarter, Rami Cobb and lots of trivia and not just Yom Kippur and we would enjoy it. If it was boring outside, we would "beat up" or declare that "we would be beaten", we would exchange letters, we would jump rubber, play class, earn puji, ride bikes with pedals.
We were more dependent on each other then, if there was something missing at home asking the neighbors, if I needed a new computer I would wait to get my old uncle's. The whole building, 7 floors, where I grew up was like a bubble that goes on its own. My father who was a butcher in the Carmel market supplied meat to the whole building. A beautiful neighbor from the apartment opposite had a hairdresser in the house and she told all the children in the building. From the top floor we were familiar with televisions and a repair facility for us that broke down. I was helping to fix computers for many of the neighbors, there was a warm atmosphere :)
I do not know what's in Shlomi's poem that made me remember childhood like this and even a little tear of happiness but I'm glad it helps me always remember who I am and where I came from and be proud of it and try to instill some of these experiences into my child who will learn to appreciate and enjoy the little things in life In the alienated future that we are expected to have at the rate at which technology is progressing and turning us slowly into robots. Take your kid to fly a kite, jump on trampolines, ride a bike to the sea, walk in parks, do not let them indulge in the tablet screen because then they will not have nostalgic memory like yours were.
Google translate man! :)
Yesterday I took the bus and while sitting and thinking about life (I am 34.5 years old), I put on the song "Margherita" by Shlomi Shabat on the radio.
I began to sing it to myself with exaggerated pleasure and was suddenly filled with nostalgic feelings. Not nostalgic for something specific like "gum girl" or "Walkman" that we suddenly come to read in a meaningless article on some remote Facebook page. I'm talking about nostalgia about how my life was today when I was a kid in Holon, the city I grew up in. Everything felt so different as a child. I have memories of how we used to play football between the garden benches and our mothers who would shout out the window to come home when it was late, or we would go down with the skateboard downhill and do competitions, or play in the guogos or the game I liked most "corners" Separating and throwing one at the other a basketball ball and the goal is for the ball to hit the side of the other in the blocks and return to the one who threw)
Everything felt more alive then, all the neighbors would meet regularly downstairs and sit in the benches and talk while the children play "prisoners." If there was a new TV movie on Channel 4 (the Matav movie channel at the time) or on Channel 2, everyone would be excited to see it as the channel managers set us up and talk about how it was the day after.
If it was boring at home we would play Monopoly, Talisman, Quarter, Rami Cobb and lots of trivia and not just Yom Kippur and we would enjoy it. If it was boring outside, we would "beat up" or declare that "we would be beaten", we would exchange letters, we would jump rubber, play class, earn puji, ride bikes with pedals.
We were more dependent on each other then, if there was something missing at home asking the neighbors, if I needed a new computer I would wait to get my old uncle's. The whole building, 7 floors, where I grew up was like a bubble that goes on its own. My father who was a butcher in the Carmel market supplied meat to the whole building. A beautiful neighbor from the apartment opposite had a hairdresser in the house and she told all the children in the building. From the top floor we were familiar with televisions and a repair facility for us that broke down. I was helping to fix computers for many of the neighbors, there was a warm atmosphere :)
I do not know what's in Shlomi's poem that made me remember childhood like this and even a little tear of happiness but I'm glad it helps me always remember who I am and where I came from and be proud of it and try to instill some of these experiences into my child who will learn to appreciate and enjoy the little things in life In the alienated future that we are expected to have at the rate at which technology is progressing and turning us slowly into robots. Take your kid to fly a kite, jump on trampolines, ride a bike to the sea, walk in parks, do not let them indulge in the tablet screen because then they will not have nostalgic memory like yours were.
Cricket Maniac
am glad you translated, thanks for sharing such a precious memory. i was filled wit emotion while reading. steem on sir