From the beginning it was clear that this young man was destined for greatness, and there would be legends about him: It was always clear that of the eight only one would remain, and that he had no competition.
When others produced water, he gave milk, but the milk turned sour as time passed. For once, may we cry over spilled milk?
In the name of proper disclosure, I must confess my affection for Haim Ramon over the years, maybe too many years. Affection, not just love or hate, sometimes ruins the text, and may very likely ruin these words too.
He was not just a friend for good times, but the right man to do business with: When the old, prehistoric Histadrut slogged on as a dinosaur, we chose to grant it a mercy killing and to create the New Histadrut in its stead. Even now I think it was necessary. We struggled with those who were considered gods, we fought with many friends, and we won: We went forward into a new life.
It is important to remember: The stables of 93 Arlosoroff were polluted from the foundations to the rafters, the stench rose far beyond the fifth floor, and left with no choice, we took upon ourselves the job of sanitation.
A funny thing happened to Ramon after that: It was as if he had tired of cleaning and rehabilitation, had turned into a whale that lost its sense of direction and stubbornly insisted on beaching itself and dying. In general, whales tend to commit suicide in groups.
The promising young man who launched his career by swimming alone against the current was suddenly swept away by the "center current."
The man who climbed onto center stage with his right foot, which looked to everyone as if it were his left, was revealed in his middle age to have two left feet, sort of like us all. Ramon, who was born to lead, quickly grew accustomed to being at the tail - and not necessarily of the lions, but also of the foxes. He served all the masters, and at times it seemed he was willing to provide any service. So it is no surprise that the wonderkind's end becomes a disappointment to his eternal youth.
Some think the kiss is what killed him. That is the wrong explanation for his fall from heaven: He had fallen long before, in not being careful enough in choosing his companions for his journey of hardships, never having properly checked the purity of their motives.
Many mothers have warned their children, "Your friends are no good." I don't doubt that little Haim's mother planned to tell him this, too. All that is left is to ponder which scenario occured: Either she forgot to tell him, or he didn't listen - he didn't listen to his mother.
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