We collectors are an odd but determined group. We latch on to a story and spend countless hours finding tangible items that tell it. We are determined that the story will never be forgotten. Nothing will stop us from telling that story, not even a Hezbollah rocket.
My friend Hadi Orr is a collector of Israeliana. (Yes, there is such a word). He has amassed a collection of tens of thousands of items. His collection ranges from El Al and Naomi Shemer paraphernalia to key chains, New Year’s greeting cards, porcelain objects, cigarette packages, gum wrappers and liquor bottles. I’d use up the permitted word count of this article if I listed all of the other subjects the collection includes.
Orr is dedicated to preserving the day-to-day objects that show the evolution of the Jewish homeland from its early pioneering days to the modern State of Israel. They are lovingly organized and stored on an entire floor of a commercial building in Ramat Gan in the Tel Aviv District of Israel.
At least they were before Monday evening.
That was when a Hezbollah rocket launched from Lebanon destroyed the building next door, injuring five people. The blast punched out all of the windows in Orr’s building and entry wasn’t permitted until doing so was declared safe. It also rained that night, and without windows, the collection was exposed to the possibility of water damage.
Orr had to wait until Tuesday morning to see the damage the blast and the rain caused to his collection. In typically Israeli fashion, he said he was thankful that he wasn’t hosting a tour group at the time, so nobody was hurt on his floor. He expressed concern for his fellow tenant, who is in hospital as he was injured in his first-floor store during the attack. Orr then started the clean-up.
His photographs show the aftermath of the bombing. It also shows the contrast of the Jewish experience we enjoy in North America compared to that of our brothers and sisters in Israel.
Everyone in the Jewish state—no matter how close or how far they live from the border—is on the front line. The lives of everyone they care about are at risk. Everything they have and cherish can be destroyed at any moment.
By contrast, I live safely in my Toronto home with my own collection of Theodor Herzl memorabilia neatly organized on shelves in archival boxes or on display in a secure museum space at Temple Emanu-El in New York City.
We see daily the destruction of homes and families in Israel, and, sadly, we get used to it. It starts to feel normal, but this is not normal.
It took seeing Orr’s collection in shambles—something I can directly relate to—for me to be reminded of the impact the war is having on Israelis. More than 400 days into this fight, we cannot allow ourselves to be desensitized to the damage and destruction nor the plight of the hostages still being held captive by Hamas in the Gaza Strip. We must continue to stand up and tell the world this is not right.
Orr’s collection tells Israel’s history. Now, it is part of that history. But our story, like Israel, cannot be destroyed.
It will take time for Orr to put everything back in place, but he will do it. If something has been damaged, it will be fixed or replaced. The collecting community will help fill in for him what has been lost. I have no doubt his collecting will continue. The old stories will continue to be told. New stories will be written, too.