על יוסי

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אלי אטיאס

"יוסי היה היה צלם חובב פריק צילום של ממש. מעטים הספיקו להכיר את הצד האמנותי שלו. כל מה שעשה במסגרת הצילומים שלו היה מחובר מאד לפילנתרופיה ולישראליות, הוא היה ציוני בנשמתו ……

יוסי בטבעו היה צלם חברתי, שאהב לגעת באנשים ולהביע רגשות בצילומים שלו. כשלרגע היה זז הצידה מהמצלמה, היינו רואים את דמעותיו"….

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אלה אלקלעי

הלילה הלך לעולמו אדם מיוחד, יוסי ביינארט.

אדם שאלמלא חלה, תרומתו היתה יכולה להיות גדולה מאוד. עבור כולנו.

יוסי היה אדם שישראליותו היתה שורשית ומעוגנת עמוק בזהותו, ובכל זאת היה גם איש העולם הגדול שבנה קריירה מקצועית חריגה בהצלחתה בחזית הטכנולוגיה הפיננסית.

הוא היה בפוזיציה ייחודית לגשר בין הדשדוש וחוסר הרלוונטיות שאליו נקלע שוק ההון המקומי לבין הפוטנציאל הגלום בתעשיית הפינטק הגלובלית והמקום שהולך ומתגבש עבור מערכות המסחר העתידיות.

הוא חזר ארצה וגילה שהוא ישראלי אבל לא פוליטיקאי.

איש עסקים אבל לא איש של ועדי עובדים.

איש של תהליכים אבל לא של ביורוקרטיה.

איש נדיב שהעשיר בידיעותיו וברקע התרבותי שלו את כל מי שנקלע למחיצתו.

איש שבא מתרבות של 'קדימה, הסתער' – החל בצה"ל ודרך שוק ההון האמריקאי – רק כדי לגלות שבישראל, כשמסתערים קדימה נתקלים בחומה.

הוא חזר ארצה, נתקל בחומה ולא הספיק ללמוד לנווט סביבה. לא הספיק ללמוד איך אפשר להתקדם במציאות שדורשת שקודם תוכיח שלאף אחד אין אינטרס להרוויח, שכסף זו מלה גסה ושהתשובה הבסיסית היא "לא", אלא אם כן תמצא פירצה במבוך.

זכיתי בכך שהכרתי אותו. הרווחתי מכל מפגש ואין ספק שעם לכתו אני הפסדתי ידיד, וכולנו הפסדנו – ממחלתו ומלכתו.

יהי זכרו ברוך.

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Yael Kaplan

Yossi,

We part, though you are still in the prime of your years.

 

Already as a child you showed some of the traits that made you so special and so successful in adult life – fierce independence, originality, brutal honesty, intelligence, creativity and the ability to analyze complex phenomena. As a young child however, you were often regarded as a mischief maker.

 

One of my first memories is the gaping hole that you made in the wall of our room by rocking your bed back and forth in protest over being sent to sleep. You actually broke through into the neighbor’s apartment, thankfully that of our dear friends, the Shilon family.

 

Another early recollection is going for a walk with our mother who is pushing you in the stroller. Suddenly you decide that you want to get out and in seconds you manage to break the leather straps that held you in and to push yourself out of the cart. Result: a concussion for you and some very tense moments for mom.

 

This drive for independence never wore off and thankfully, Jerusalem was then a small place in which everyone in the neighborhood knew each other. When you were 3 you decided that the time had come to walk home from the playground by yourself. You set off, without a word to the person who was looking after you. You made it to Keren HaKayemet Street where fortunately Idit Ezrachi saw you and brought you home safely.

 

A few years later, while in Spain where our father was on sabbatical, you caused a stir reminiscent of Hans Christian Anderson’s story “The Emperor’s New Cloths.” You were 6 at the time. At a catered event hosted by Madrid’s Jewish community, you were offered a platter of food. Without hesitation, you proclaimed loudly: “Es Jamon” – “this is pork,” the only one to point out that something was inappropriate at this Jewish gathering.

 

High school was also a challenge. Regimented study was not for you, at least not then. You had to learn much more independently, and in future years, you would astonish friends and acquaintances with the breadth of the knowledge that you acquired on your own. You completed high school as an external student and wrote your matriculation exams at the Israeli Embassy in London. Later however you would be one of the first students in the new Department of Computer Science at the Hebrew University.

 

This did not deter you from seeking purpose. Not only did you contribute a year to working in the development town of Kiryat Malachi; you went on to become a respected officer in the Israeli army and a trail was even named after you in one of the training bases.

 

During your military service, when we lived together in an apartment on Nicanor Street and afterwards in Gilo, I discovered your less orderly side. For some reason, when you came home every so often on leave, all of the spoons would disappear from the kitchen, only to be reincarnated in cups of yoghurt left under beds and sofas. Mountains of sandy and greasy uniforms arose that refused to yield to any form of laundry known to man – but you were adamant that this mess had to be transformed into the properly starched and ironed uniforms expected of an army officer.

 

Surrounded by bosom buddies, there was no one you couldn’t reach, and no one who could resist your charm. You touched so many people and to each you gave something special. There was not a subject on which you could not hold your own – masterpieces of art, scientific discoveries, great music, history, sport, cuisine…and you always won the 20 question quiz in Friday’s newspaper.

 

You set out on a long journey to foreign shores with almost nothing in your pocket, and there you reached a pillar of achievement, innovating new forms of commercial analysis and trade. From Los Angeles, New York and Chicago, you supported your parents and family, and you succeeded in forming meaningful relationships with them all. You always wanted to return and when the opportunity presented itself you came back to us. Your dream of return was fulfilled but tragically only for an intolerably short time.

 

Yossi, my dear little brother, the first person that I ever really knew, you will always be in my heart and in my soul.

 

Rest in peace.

Yaeli