You may wonder if you are very different now from what you were once, way back in your history, back in that place where your memory can’t go. How far can you remember?

I’m sure that one day you will ask yourself: have I always been this way?

Whatever your reasons, know that it is good to look at one’s life, from time to time, as if you were outside of time, as if time were a line you could see from afar.

For example: today is your first birthday. You are just learning to speed up, and I am just learning to slow down. Did you see how I looked at both of our lives from outside of the present moment?

It’s interesting. Give it a try.

You are learning to become very active, and I am learning to wind down. You are learning to look at everything with new eyes, and touch everything with new hands.

Sometimes I imagine what’s going on inside your thoughts as you meet the world.

If you want to know how you were as a toddler, the most important thing for you to know is that you were [are] loved. You are loved by everyone around you.

I have to hold myself back from picking you up by the back of your neck with my teeth, like cats do to their young.

I’ve saved your life a few times, you know, getting home just as Your Mother was about to eat you up. She really does want to eat every little part of you. And I’m not sure she will always be able to contain herself…

Your grandparents also squeeze you any chance they get, and you’ve given them extra space in their hearts.

You can be a very serious little boy; not easily amused and not to be trifled with. You demand attention with a booming voice. BAAAAHH!! BAAAHH!

I find this quite effective and I’ve started using it to communicate with people at my office. BAAHHH! BAAAAHHH!

You love to be thrilled; whereupon you shriek. And you talk yourself to sleep, or maybe you’re talking to angels?

But mostly you’re a very curious little chap – an explorer, fearless on the slides yet cautious on the steps. You love new people but don’t like to be crowded.

You go with the flow, as long as I or Your Mother are around, somewhere in the background. You are open to other people, and they are drawn to you.

More so than most other children you come into contact with, you are gentle, and kind. You give me the glass to drink from, and sometimes you shove your food into my mouth.

For days I’ve searched for the right words to say here to you. But someone’s already said them before, and there’s no shame in using someone else’s words when they are so perfect for how you feel.

So here is my message to you on your first birthday my son, from  a song I love called “Stand Inside Your Love”

Travel the world, traverse the skies; your home is here within my heart

I feel as though I am reborn; recast as child in mystic sun

I’ll wrap my wire around your heart and you’re mine

You’re mine forever.

Also, you’re quite the explorer: you see a gap, an opening in the door, and you make a bee-line straight for it. When we go for walks in your stroller, we strap you in very tight because all you want to do is sit up and look at everything. You have to see everything, everyone, be involved, learn, absorb, experience.

If the fridge is opened, you scurry over like a quick little salamander and head right into it. You won’t let us close it until you’ve finished exploring it.

You crawl into our bedroom and close the door behind you. Excuse us!

You’re fearless: You dive head first down the slides, screeching with pleasure all the way down, while Your Mother holds her breath in terror.

I think it’s good that when you want something, you go for it. Just remember, that you’re not always going to get what you want.

You are allowed to fail, as long as you tried your best and gave it your all.

If you don’t succeed at something because you didn’t try your best, and son, only you will know if you tried your best or not, you’ll feel worse than anyone can make you feel.

While we do think you are clever [how can we not?] we won’t tell you this often, because people who are told they are clever tend to worry about making mistakes, and they worry about not really being clever enough. This seems like such a waste of energy no? All this worrying over nonsense.

But that’s just how the human mind works. If we are told things often enough, and convincingly enough, we tend to believe them. Now there’s nothing wrong with believing that you are clever – it’s good to have self-confidence and believe in your abilities. The problem comes when you don’t succeed in things. And it’s a fact of life that not everything you try will work out. I can promise you that. There’s nothing to be ashamed of: such is the way of the world. Sometime’s we’re up, sometimes we’re down. Sometimes we’re lucky, and sometimes we’re unlucky. Sometimes, even though we tried our hardest, we still don’t succeed.

So don’t worry too much about becoming clever, or trying to show people how clever you are.

It’s not important how clever you are, or how clever your friends are. What’s important is the effort you put into something.

If you put in a good, honest effort into something [it can be anything: studies, projects, sports, love, business] and you succeed, you will have felt like you earned your success, like it was well deserved. If you don’t put in the effort and you succeed, well then, you were lucky.

My little explorer.

Here’s a poem I like by T.H. Palmer

Try try again

‘Tis a lesson you should heed,
If at first you don’t succeed,
Try, try again;

Then your courage should appear,
For if you will persevere,
You will conquer, never fear
Try, try again;

Once or twice, though you should fail,
If you would at last prevail,
Try, try again;

If we strive, ’tis no disgrace
Though we do not win the race;
What should you do in the case?
Try, try again

If you find your task is hard,
Time will bring you your reward,
Try, try again

All that other folks can do,
Why, with patience, should not you?
Only keep this rule in view:
Try, try again.

Now that’s both a good and a not-so-good thing.

Today at the playground you barrelled down a slide like nobody’s business, you laughed all the way down until you knocked your chin at the end of the ride, and then you cried. But you wanted to do it again so I took you back up, and that’s a great thing.

Later, you hit your forehead on the merry-go-round because you were trying to hold onto the top with your hand and the side rail with your leg. That was a very creative move, but you ended up crying again.

And at the end of your playtime, you climbed up the stairs out of the playground because you saw a dog and you wanted to catch it and put it in your mouth. You climbed and climbed and I was in front of you, watching you and spurring you on, but then suddenly you fell backwards and hit your head on the cold cement slab. I wasn’t quick enough to catch you, and we both cried.

What am I trying to tell you son?

I’m trying to tell you that life will give you little knocks, a lot of them [Life will also give you some big knocks, but we'll talk about them another time].

You’re brave, determined, and persistent, and so you are going to throw yourself into many things and into many places. Just like I did when I was little. When I was growing up, I broke my nose, twice; my shoulder popped out a few times until it broke; I twisted and sprained both of my ankles. I broke my shin bone [that was very sore]. I’ve been stung by a swarm of wasps on my back and stung by a bee in my eye. I also swallowed two bees that were in my can of soda. I’ve broken fingers and toes; there’s something terribly wrong with my right knee, and I’ve got two slipped disks in my back, probably from a time I jumped over something at University. I’ve cracked ribs, and pulled muscles. I’ve had food poisoning, alcohol poisoning, and I ate some bad mushrooms by mistake once or twice and that wasn’t good either. I’ve got a gash on the side of my head from a surfing accident, which could explain why I’m ‘funny’ sometimes..and I’ve lost a lot of skin off my elbows, knees, thighs and some other places. And I’m not even talking about the gazillion cuts, burns, and bites.

So if you’re anything like me, you’re going to need to take care of your body.

But stay fearless, a lifetime of memories and adventures is worth all the little knocks that come with it.

Love, Dad.

[This message was not endorsed by Your Mother].

You attached to me in the Baby Bjorn

It’s noisy with cars, but we walk as far into the bush as we can, to get away from the traffic.

On the way down to the beach we talk; well, I talk and you grunt

But when we get to the shore we’re quiet you and I

We listen to the little waves, and the seagulls, and the wind.

I pull the arms of your jacket over your hands to keep them warm.

I’m very grateful to have this time with you.

When I do travel abroad I am reminded just how big a place the world is and how small we are within it.

There are some cities in the world that are truly gigantic.

And not just big in terms of their physical size [just like there are giant people who are physically small]

Here I mean that these cities are big in other ways too: there are big things going on in them; they are magnets for all the people in the world.

When you visit them you can see the faces, shapes and colors of visitors from many different countries and you can hear their different languages.

On a clear day, you can look up to the sky and see planes coming and going constantly – that’s also the sign of an important city.

Of course I’m speaking about New York and London

The buildings, the people, the history of these two places is immense

They have both produced many giants, in industry, politics, literature, in everything

This last time in London I was anxious and fearful before a speech I had to give to some very important people, giants in their fields really.

I am fearful of public speaking, and the moment weighed on me heavily all throughout my visit

I find the key to having to do something you fear doing is to prepare for it very well.

Don’t do anything in half-measures son; don’t leave things in your preparation undone – they will come to haunt you at the very moment you need them most.

Still, even with all the preparation in the world, the moment you have to step up and play your part is always scary.

When the moment came, I stood up when my name was called, took one last look at the picture of you that Your Mother had sent,

And walked up to the podium and gave my talk. Remember son, things are never as bad as you imagine them to be.

The photo of you standing in your cot and smiling gave me courage. I gave my speech, and forgot about the fear I had felt for the past 3 days.

You give me courage Yoni, because as long as I am your father there is nothing more important for me to do,

Whatever I’m doing at the moment lasts only until I come back to you,

As long as I am your father there is no place more important I need to be, nowhere else I’d rather be.

As long as I am your father I am a giant

As long as I am your father I will face my fear a little more easily,

That’s not to mean that I will be fearless; beware of being fearless, and beware of men who say they are fearless – they are actually reckless.

As I’ve written for you here before, fear is healthy, it is natural, you must feel its presence, acknowledge it, and face it – do not deny it

And once you prepare what you need to prepare, and once you face your fear, and do what you need to do, you will grow as a man.

And then you will realize, son, what everyone around you can already see: that you are already a giant.

You like to sleep on your stomach and bury your head in your blanket – effective, but not very elegant.

Sometimes you sleep on your back , your arms above you like a boxing champ.

And often now, as you sleep, you put your leg over the cot’s rail or through its bars, like you own the place.

You like to eat at your set times, and you don’t like us to be late with your food.

You fart wherever and whenever the feeling takes you.

Sometimes you wear your nappies halfway down your bum and crawl around the lounge – what do you think the neighbours are saying? That our child is a wildechaye? Let them stare. Let them talk.

I’ve even heard rumours that you started up with a girl three months your senior. Heard you touched her leg…

You overturn your toy basket.

You tear up the newspapers, and you eat your books.

You puke and move on, no big deal. Not like your father. When I puke, I can’t move on, I’m a wreck.

You poo, puke, and pee on me. Me!! I’m ten times your size!  Are you not afraid? Are you not trembling?

Actually, you love to be frightened. It makes you laugh.

You can’t talk yet, but you’re very clear with what you want and how you go about telling us you want it.  More than we’ve figured you out, you’ve figured us out.

But don’t get ahead of yourself little one. You’ll have plenty of time to be a man. Now is the time to be a baby.

When you show us that you want to be held, we know you are still our baby.

When you hold onto us when we hug you, cheek to cheek, and you let out a deep sigh, you are our little boy.

So yes, you’re still a baby, but there is definitely a little ‘man’ inside you. We can see him.

Now that there are two men in the house, you think Your Mother can handle it?

You’ll be gone another whole two weeks. I’m not sure I can wait that long.

Your Mother puts you in front of the iPad every day, and I talk to you; you hear my voice and look for me around the room.  It’s funny, and very sad at the same time. One day you will know what it is to laugh and cry at the same time.

I miss you terribly.

This has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to bare, being away from you for so long.

I sent you a song today, for Your Mother to play to you. I looked out the window and imagined us both listening to it at the same time.

Did she play it to you? I hope so. She usually does what I ask her to do. Keep an eye on that for me ok.

Here’s the song, it’s called Hear My Voice.

The first time I heard it, it came from outer space – it was being played in a space station to a hero of mine. I’ll tell you about him one day.

Here are the words, it’s the message I’m sending you, my beautiful boy.

Do you hear my voice

My faraway one?

Do you hear my voice

Wherever you may be?

A voice calls out to you with courage

A voice cries out in my blood

And beyond the bounds of time

Commands a blessing

This world is vast

And its paths are many

They meet in fleeting moments

And they part for eternity

A person wishes it

But his legs cannot

He cannot find

That which he has lost

Til the end of my days

I will wait for you

Until there is still life in me

I love you. See you soon.

Dad

I just don’t think things are going to improve here. I’m willing to wager that by the time you read this, and are old and wise enough to understand what’s written here, things will still be the same. And it doesn’t matter which government is in power. That’s the sad thing. The system is broken and there isn’t the will amongst the people to fix it. I mean, there is a will, everyone here thinks he knows how to fix ‘the problems’ – but this country feels to me like it is beyond repair right now.  The people are tired, easily distracted by their daily struggles. I think that, at best, our country will limp along, from one crisis to another, from one elated victory to morose defeat, up and down, up and down, again and again – for a very long time. Tension and release, tension and release – only it gets more tense between each cycle.

Internally, this country is coming apart at the seams like never before. Externally, our neighbors, far from coming to accept our existence here, are becoming even more hateful of us. They hate us beyond all comprehension – a violent, terrible hate.

There is so much talk of war here now.  There’s always been war here, and in between, talk of war, but it’s different this time, bigger, more threatening, more existential.

To live a normal life here we’ll have to fight forever. We’ll have to fight against each other [there are many Israelis who see themselves outside of our state, its laws, and its norms] and we’ll have to fight against our neighbors.

And I don’t want to condemn you to a life of endless wars.

I hear how some people talk here: “My grandson, he’s going to be a General for sure, or at least a Colonel.”

You know what Yoni? I don’t want you to grow up to be a General or a Colonel, or a Sargent Major or even a Captain. You might want to be these things some day, but I don’t want these things for you. I don’t want you to be a pawn. And I don’t want you to be a hero. I want you to live a long and happy life. I’d much rather you be a historian, a sculptor, a singer,  a poet, a builder, or even a computer programmer [yuck]. Anything but a soldier. God forbid you become a warrior. A soldier is bad enough, but a warrior is worse.

I worry that you’ll want to become a warrior. You’re strong, independent, curious, and stout – all these things I can already tell about you.

So how do I get you out of this black hole, that sucks in boy after boy after boy? And is it even the right thing to do? And what’s to say that, even if I do manage to get you out, that you won’t go back in of your own accord, much as I did?

I’m sorry if I’m scaring you. You’re way too young to think about these things; but I look at you now, tiny little man, and I can’t imagine you as a grownup. What kind of man will you grow up to be? In this country, young men want to become warriors. They are encouraged to want to become warriors.

What would you do if you were me?