On January 14th, I joined my community in a nationwide initiative known as The 100 Day March. This event aimed to express unwavering support and love for hostages held in captivity for 100 days. The yellow ribbon, a symbol of strength, hope, love, and resilience, played a central role in conveying our solidarity and a heartfelt call for the safe return of our soldiers and hostages. My first encounter with this symbol dates back to my childhood, and its significance has endured for over half a century. I'd like to share some aspects of my story with you.
The late 1960s and early 1970s left an indelible mark on my life, particularly in the rural setting I called home. Surrounded by vast corn fields, our regular trips to Mrs. Greens egg farm were our new norm, and the weekly pilgrimage to Wooley’s Fish Market for us to pick out flounder became a highly anticipated event. "Friend flounder night" held a special place in our hearts, symbolizing more than just a meal – it encapsulated the simplicity, warmth, and unique charm of those years. These memories carry a profound emotional weight, weaving a tapestry of nostalgia that continues to shape my perspective on life.
I engaged in childhood activities that were designed to shape my perception of beauty and societal roles. Playing with dolls and doll carriages were meant to instill ideals of femininity and domesticity. Alongside these activities, I honed my culinary skills with an Easy-Bake Oven and mimicked household chores, such as ironing, alongside my mom. However, our ironing sessions revealed differing levels of productivity. As I learned the intricacies of traditional "girl chores," my brother indulged in what I considered more exciting pursuits—playing with trucks, soldiers, and Lincoln Logs. He constructed buildings, engaged in battles, and cleaned up the aftermath of fallen structures or toy soldiers.
While I absorbed lessons on being poised, attractive, and soft-spoken, my brother embraced a world where getting dirty, falling down, and asserting himself as a warrior were the norm. There was an undeniable sense of envy within me, a desire to enjoy the same freedoms he did. I longed to emulate his carefree behavior and occasionally wished I could break free from the expectations imposed on me. Below is a picture of us. He explored space and I held a pretty new purse and smiled. Which one of us was better off?
Our parents sat riveted by the nightly news and often tuned in to Tom Brokaw, as the Vietnam War neared its conclusion. The return of soldiers, some in coffins and others grappling with what was then known as Battle Fatigue (now termed Post Traumatic Stress), marked a poignant chapter in our nation's history. The Watergate Scandal unfolded, shaking the foundations of the country and reshaping its political landscape. Meanwhile, an energy crisis added another layer of complexity to the times.
While I can't recall the specifics of the news, what remains vivid in my memory is the impact of the energy crisis on our daily lives. Waiting in gas lines became a routine, a symbol of the challenges our family faced. Fortunately, we owned two cars—one with an even-numbered plate and the other with an odd-numbered plate, aligning with the rationing system. This meant daily trips to fill up the car so that my father could commute into New York for work. Although I couldn't fully grasp the pressures my parents were under, the hours spent in the car with my brother, waiting for gas, felt like an enduring and, at times, agonizing experience. My way of helping the family during this challenging time was to undertake shutting off all of the lights in the house as my chore. This meant listening to my dad say “Did you turn out the lights upstairs?” It was only as an adult I learned to say turn off the lights.
Music held a profound place in my life, and I vividly recall a moment that left an indelible mark on my childhood. I stood in front of the television when the announcer shared about the untimely demise of Elvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll. Overwhelmed with emotion, I cried not just for him but also for the perceived loss of his music in my young mind. The idea that I might never hear him sing again was a poignant realization.
Music resonated throughout our home on a daily basis, with my father often serenading us. Another musical memory etched in my mind is Tony Orlando and Dawn's "Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree," which ascended to the top of the charts. I joyfully sang this song while twirling around the house, though at that age, I lacked a deeper understanding of its significance. On my street, some trees sported large yellow ribbons, a sight that I, being too young to comprehend, found intriguing and puzzling.
"Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Ole Oak Tree" evokes a profound emotional journey, capturing the anxious hope of a returning soldier. The yellow ribbon symbolizes love's endurance amid separation, especially in the context of war. The song's simplicity and catchy chorus encapsulate the universal emotions tied to homecoming — uncertainty, yearning, and the overwhelming joy of being welcomed back into the warmth of love and community. It's a musical testament to the resilience of human connections in the face of adversity. During the Gulf War of the 1990’s the yellow ribbon once again became a symbol for freedom and humanity.
Half a century later, the symbolism embedded in the ribbon resonates with the profound yearning for freedom, the essence of humanity, and a desperate plea echoing from a nation eagerly awaiting the release of hostages into the warm embrace of families, friends, communities, and a nation poised to welcome them home.
During my recent trip to Kfar Saba, Israel, Jennifer and I stumbled upon a heart-shaped symbol adorned with about one hundred yellow ribbons. It took my breath away. In that instant, it was as if time stood still, and the weight of emotions overwhelmed me. Tears welled up in my eyes, and an indescribable connection bridged the gap between my present and the poignant struggles my parents faced half a century ago.
The pain of loss, once an abstract concept, crystallized into a deeply intimate understanding of war. It was no longer a distant narrative; it had woven itself into the fabric of my own experience. The emotional landscape shifted, and I found myself standing on the precipice of a profound connection with the human cost that war extracts. In that moment, the gravity of conflict was no longer a concept to ponder but a visceral reality etched into the core of my being. Suddenly, Israel wasn't just a geographical location; it became deeply personal. Each step I took in this homeland felt like a walk among my own people.
Standing before the yellow ribbons, I couldn't resist the urge to press my hand against them. It was a visceral attempt to absorb the energy they exuded and, in return, share a piece of my own. In that moment, amid the rich tapestry of Israel, I found an extraordinary connection—a fusion of history, emotion, and the pulsating heartbeat of a place that had become an integral part of my identity.
Each knot of a yellow ribbon conveyed a heartfelt plea, a poignant call, and an earnest yearning from a loved one, whispering, "Please come home now. I am here waiting for you. I love you."
Ten days after I returned home, I marched with my community to commemorate the 100 Days of captivity for the hostages. I wrote about that day “100 days...A march, a man and a hostage” and how my trip to Israel was much more than I anticipated. On this day, many of us wore yellow ribbons. Today, as I write, we are at Day 136 with our hostages being held captive. My ribbon is still pinned to my coat and will not come off until we have all of the hostages are home.
My hope and my prayer is that each hostage will be delivered to their families and communities now, today! We need you home.
I offer you Tony Orlando and Dawn. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have for half a decade.
With much gratitude,
Chellie
100 days...A march, a man and a hostage.
Tony Orlando and Dawn: Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree