Yoram Taharlev's bench was the nicest place to sit in Tel Aviv, especially on Shabbat. Religious and secular, traditional and Haredim, anyone who passed by Yoram's bench at Kikar Hamedina plaza would always receive a warm, polite smile from this wonderful man. That same pleasant gaze was afforded to everyone. Incidentally, even the cigar in his mouth was as modest as him.
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We knew each other, Yoram and I. We collaborated on a special weekend supplement, enchanting and witty, as only Yoram could offer the readers. But we were also neighbors – a gigantic privilege for a newspaper editor, but also a gigantic privilege for a resident of Tel Aviv.
Saturday was the first Shabbat my children didn't meet with the man on the bench with the white beard and jeans t-shirt, who would discuss the weekly Torah portion with them in his typically intelligent, poetic manner. My children hear the Torah interpretations at synagogue, and Yoram, from his bench, would make sure to add his own magical connection between Judaism and Zionism, which we must never forget.
And in general, how many families in Israel, religious families, have walked and journeyed the country thanks to Yoram. "Kum VeHit'halech Ba'Aretz" (Get up and walk the country), Yoram wrote, and they surely did so because of his songs, without desecrating Shabbat. This is his greatest contribution to Shabbat, the country, and the nation. In days such as these, in which we sadly enjoy disagreeing about our identity, I already miss this cherished poet, my neighbor, who was a secular man but breathed Judaism, similar to many of our founding fathers.
"Ein Kvar Derech Hazara" (No Way Back), Yoram wrote. But from my perspective, from the perspective of my children, and from the perspective of the people you so dearly loved and so dearly loved you back – you never left, you will never leave. I passed by your bench on Shabbat, and I ingrained it in my heart. In the evening, I remembered the photograph and saw you still sitting there, because how would we say – there's no way back because we won't let you go.
Thank you, Yoram.
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