On May 1, Ilan Gilon passed away, and there could not have been a more symbolic day for his retirement, too early, from this world.
Many of us, his friends, see ourselves as Social Democrats or Social Liberals.
Ilan was a socialist, or "red," as he used to testify.
His trainees at Hashomer Hatzair admired him, and he taught them, among other things, the chapters of Marx.
But he was also blue-and-white.
Despite his disability, he fought for the right to enlist in the IDF, and eventually wore a uniform, and was a proud soldier.
Every morning he woke up to very difficult challenges that most of us are unaware of.
He contracted polio while in Romania at the age of seven, and his health has deteriorated in recent years.
Stick.
walker.
Scooter.
Wheelchair.
He did not like to comment on this, and we did not often comment on this deterioration.
We tried to ignore it, and he was comfortable with it.
"Zorba from Ashdod", Photo: Yossi Zeliger
Ilan was also dyslexic, which made it very difficult for him.
He was a gracious orator, who fascinated his members in the movement and his friends in March, and his friends in the Knesset, from all its factions.
He never held a paper, or a note, while speaking, but he did not need it.
His words were arranged in his head, and there was, always, a combination of logical arguments in favor of one move or another, with tons of emotion, which caused his listeners tears, not infrequently.
He did not need a microphone.
His thunderous voice served him well, and aided his image as a politician who knew well what was before him, and who was very sure of the righteousness of his way.
He once asked me how I see him "really".
After a few seconds, I said "Zorba".
This was when we accepted his invitation and visited a restaurant he had established on the shores of Ashdod, during a period when he was not serving in the Knesset.
Maybe it was the sea atmosphere, maybe the funny wording of his menus.
Perhaps his good-naturedness spilled over.
A great man, with a rare capacity for empathy, crazy about making jams, which he would generously distribute to his friends (and not just them).
He called himself "Rabban", that is - produces jams, and revealed to us that the secret of the success of his jams is the sugar, which he pours on them without account.
He made us all collect every glass jar we saw so he could continue to make jams in them.
Ilan leaves the world with a legacy of extremely important social legislation, with many friends lamenting it, and who will be sorely missed, and with the ability to prove that there are politicians like him, who can fight fearlessly for their social and political positions, and remain as honest as a ruler, and remain human.
Were we wrong?
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