Lior Tarshansky
Lior was born on October 24th, 2007. He was due to celebrate his sixteenth birthday in late autumn, two weeks after he was murdered.
Lior was a kibbutz child, a nature child walking barefoot around the kibbutz paths. People couldn’t take their eyes off this beautiful little boy, with his long hair and almond-like, slightly slanted eyes. Mowgli, they called him.
Mowgli grew up to become Chumpa, and Tetro as well. Tetro was the name given to him by his good buddy Alon, who was also murdered by the terrorists. The girls used to call him Liori. He was a magnet for nicknames; a magnet for love.
But first and foremost, Lior was his parents’ son. His mother, Reuma, is a movement therapist. His father, Ilya, made aliya from Russia and worked as the plumber of the kibbutz. Lior was also Gali’s elder brother and the younger brother of Eden on his fathers' side.
As the first grandchild, Lior had earned the coveted status of being the baby everyone wanted to hold; a soft, gentle baby who loved to cuddle up. At the tender age of one he was injured by shrapnel from Kassam missiles fired at Beeri. Luckily, he survived – to become a naughty little boy, a “performer” who loved making up funny dances and fooling around. He liked wrestling in the living room with Gali; he liked playing Catan on family holidays and threatening he would beat everyone to the ground - which never really happened, except for once. And Lior was so high on that one-time victory – he couldn’t stop talking about it.
There were many other things he loved: Maccabi Haifa, mom’s famous jachnoon. The latter had always been at the center of family gatherings, always anticipated with great joy. Every year, the family would rent a holiday cottage on Yom Kippur. It was a treasured family event where everyone could spend some time together, chattering, sharing, tightening up family ties.
On Lior’s last Yom Kippur the family rented a cottage on the Gilboa mountain, and he came along with his girlfriend, Omer. Everyone was joking about this family tradition, which started when Lior was a one-year-old baby, realizing what a significant stretch of time had since passed.
As he was born and raised in Beeri, the kibbutz was part of Lior – just as he was a part of the kibbutz. To a great extent, the kibbutz had shaped the young man he was becoming. As an adolescent he was more aware of himself – a little less of the nonsensical kid and a little more of a ‘kibbutznik’, a proper kibbutz member.
He felt strongly connected to the kibbutz way of life, to his Afarsek classmates in Beeri, and believed in taking part, contributing and undertaking all kinds of tasks. In the ninth grade he joined the Bar Mitzva team and spent the next two years getting up early, carrying heavy stuff around and helping whole heartedly wherever he was needed. This year he was chosen to be the Bar Mitzva guide – a highly valued position – which made him very excited and proud of himself. He was supposed to lead a group of twenty thirteen-year-olds.
At home he had his exclusive responsibilities as well – french fries, for example; everyone knew this was his realm, and no-one else dared near the fryer at barbeques. He was also the favorite babysitter of his younger cousins. He loved kids, had tons of patience and a great approach to them – and they loved him back.
Lior was a high-school student at Nofey Habsor. A bright one - yet not a “wonk”, to say the least. It either came easy to him, or not at all. He was never the one to be dragged into something others were doing, or to rebel. Lior knew exactly what he wanted and had his own unique way of getting there. If he ever skipped a lesson, it was for a good reason – Maccabi Haifa.
Shakked, his former homeroom teacher, says he had always asked her how she was doing. It was so natural for him, so untypical of his age. Such maturity he possessed, such depth and inner peace. A true “mensch”. Shakked says she was very happy to witness his flourishing relationship with Omer. “They were both so gentle, elegant and photogenic together,” she recounts. Two giant hearts, yet humble and kind, always capable of truly seeing the other.
Lior was a quiet person, the classic hot shy-guy, but at the same time he was friendly and witty and funny. You couldn’t really get into a fight with him – his friends say they had never seen him lose his temper. It was so difficult to make him lose it that it became a major challenge: who’s going to make Lior truly angry. On one of their summer trips they said to him, “Listen, Lior, we’re all dying to see you scream. You just have to! Let’s go to the beach and shout together!” It became the trip-joke. They all went, “Shout, Lior!” but no-one could make him do it.
Yam, his friend, says Lior was his confidant – he only told him(and his own father) things he wouldn’t tell anyone else. They once shared an electric scooter ride around the kibbutz, talking, talking, and talking – only to realize, at a certain point, it was five thirty a.m. and they had been talking for six hours nonstop.
Lior loved diving – and not only into the depths of a heart-to-heart. He had an Advanced Open Water Diver license and planned on going on a diving safari. He loved other sports as well – ping pong, basketball and soccer, of course. A year before he was murdered, he flew to Paris with Tal - his uncle - and Yam, to watch a Maccabi Haifa game, and strolled around the city with sparkling eyes – so wholly enchanted by everything.
Maccabi Haifa had an obituary published following Lior’s murder. He was supposed to celebrate his sixteenth birthday at their game against Maccabi Beer Sheva. On his birthday, his friends said, Maybe we should all just go down to the Dead Sea beach and scream our lungs out? But they never made it, and anyway – each of them knew that if Lior saw them standing there, screaming, he would simply crack up laughing.
May his memory be a blessing.
