Free To Be and To Do
 
(post retirement in Israel)

By Rochelle Furstenberg 
Hadassah Magazine
April 2002
  
How do native and immigrant Israelis spend their post-retirement
years? Volunteering, studying, being with family and just 
enjoying themselves.
 
  
Gray-haired Meier Meyer, a former Israel Museum public relations 
executive, now gives his time and experience to Yad Sara, 
a volunteer network of home-care support services for the 
disabled and elderly. He has become a volunteer publicist for 
the organization. "When you retire," he says, "you can either 
be tired and not want to do anything or you can…put on new tires 
and drive again." All over the country Israelis like Meyer are 
putting their newfound free time to use. Among them are a large
number of English-speaking immigrants looking to enrich their 
senior years.

Continuing a centuries-old tradition, many are studying in 
yeshiva. In Jerusalem, former businessmen can be found in Kollel 
Sinai, a program created by Max Weill, a retired New York 
businessman. Women stream to classes in Bible, Jewish philosophy 
and Talmud at Orthodox schools like Matan and Nishmat as well as 
Conservative and Reform centers. 

Sponsored by the brookdale Adult Education Center, seniors also 
audit courses at Bar-Ilan University. "They often teach me my 
subject," remarked one history professor about students who 
lived the events he teaches.

"The most important thing about retirement is that one must feel 
needed," says Ita Rosmarin, who made aliya 15 years ago with her 
husband, Menachem, to be near one of their sons. "We watch[ed] 
our six grandchildren grow up, and now we’re babysitting our 
great-grandchildren."

Her husband owned a gas station and auto repair shop in Chicago. 
"When I first came," he explains, "I worked in appliance repair, 
but after a second heart attack the doctor told me, 'That's it. 
No more lifting heavy appliances.' I looked at him in panic. 
"What will I do? I like to read, but you can't do that all the 
time. And then the social worker suggested that I volunteer at 
Yad Sara. I work three days a week testing electronic devices 
like children's breathing monitors.”

Government statistics indicate that 9 percent of the Israeli 
population is over 65; by 2002 the figure is expected to rise 
to 12 percent. According to a recent survey by the Brookdale 
Institute, senior citizens make up 60 to 70 percent of all 
volunteers in Israel. Yad Sara boasts 6,000 volunteers, who do 
everything from laundry to sophisticated computer work.

"Olim also want their Western values to [have an] impact here," 
says Rivka Ben-Ari, a counselor for the Association of Americans 
and Canadians in Israel (AACI). "They lobby for ecology issues, 
campaign that public places be smoke-free." Hadassah women in 
Israel have carried on an active breast-cancer detection program. 
Seniors tutor disadvantaged children, drive Alzheimer's patients 
to the Melabev Day Center and work as museum guides. 
They volunteer at hospitals, special schools and religious 
institutions.

There is also a lighter side. In cities with a large English-
speaking retiree population, community centers such as the 
bustling one in Netanya organize wine-tasting and theater parties. 
They also plan trips to hotels for study vacations.

While most immigrant retirees move to Israel to be reunited with 
their children, "others," according to Ben-Ari, "come to realize 
a dream."

As a youth in Great Britain, Julius Orbaum was a member of Bnei 
Akiva, a religious Zionist group. He came on aliya in the 50's, 
met his wife here and decided to go to Montreal "for a few years."

"We came back 27 years later," he laments. "Our children even 
preceded us. But for me, coming back was the fulfillment of a 
dream." Orbaum initially lived in Petah Tikva, but moved to 
Netanya after retirement. "It's the best thing I ever did," 
he says. "Many of my childhood friends live here. I do a lot of 
volunteer work for the AACI. Before I moved I never used an 
engagement calendar. Now my schedule is so busy, I write everything 
down."

Some take part in Sherut Le'umi L'Pensionarim, a national service 
for recently retired Israelis. SHELEM participants tutor and 
supervise in schoolyards to deal with conflicts and prevent 
violence.

Other late-in-life settlers are in Israel out of a sense of 
adventure. Shirley and Irwin Smalheiser lived in Bettendorf, 
Iowa, where Irwin had worked as an industrial psychologist and 
Shirley was doing graduate work in home economics. They loved to 
travel and were saving up for a trip to Australia. "But our kids 
had been to Israel, and we decided that before our big trip to 
Australia, we might as well see Israel," says Shirley. "My husband 
immediately fell in love with the country. We didn't want to 
retire in Florida or California—so we moved here." They tried 
living in Netanya, but found it too humid. Then the Smalheisers 
discovered Mitzpeh Rimon, situated on the edge of a big crater 
in the Negev and only an hour's bus ride from Beersheba.

The independent couple developed full lives in their new community. 
Shirley authored a cookbook called Simply Eggplant and became 
active in Beersheba Hadassah. They recently spent three months 
in Beijing studying Chi Gung, Chinese breathing and movement 
exercises.

"The retiree must feel what he's doing is not just busywork, 
but expresses a deep sense of self," says social worker Ruth Kahn. 
"Otherwise his whole sense of worth is in question. That means 
one must know oneself, be conscious of real feelings and values. 
Since Israel is a deeply felt value for many Jews, just living 
here can enhance the sense of self.

"But for some," adds Kahn, "it doesn't compensate for the 
discomfort of living in a 'foreign' country, where [you] don't 
know the language or understand the lifestyle."

Many of the elderly have been victims of terrorism. 
Eighty-one-year-old Pinhas Tokatli was on his way to buy art 
supplies in downtown Jerusalem when he was killed in a terrorist 
shooting. Sara Hamburger, 79, was murdered while sitting at a 
bus stop. "We must not allow the terror to break us," Hamburger 
had once declared to her children. The ongoing situation has 
circumscribed the lives of many.

"People are more hesitant about traveling," says Rachel Hirsh, 
director of the AACI in Netanya. "Their children don't visit 
them as much in Netanya, which has been a target of terrorism."

Orbaum tries not to let the violence affect him. "I grew up in 
England during the Blitz," he explains, "but my wife never 
experienced war. Every time we hear a construction boom, 
she gets tensed up."

Shlomo Reutlinger escaped from Germany with Youth Aliyah, and 
was among the founders of the religious Kibbutz Ein Ha'Netziv 
in the Beit Shean Valley. He studied for a doctorate in 
agricultural economics in the United States, settled there and 
worked for the World Bank. On retirement he returned to Israel 
with his wife, Blossom. Their two children made aliya with their 
families as well. Would he consider leaving Israel because of 
the dangers? "I'm more concerned about my children and 
grandchildren being in danger than myself," he answers. "I think 
that in the long run Israel is our safest haven. Here at least 
we can have some control over our fate."

Still, he mulls over the issue. "If I didn't have children here, 
would I go on sabbatical, get away for a while? I'm an economist. 
I have to look at what's cost-effective. There are so many 
advantages of being here. There's something so uniquely beautiful 
about living here. Should I give it up for the slight statistic 
of being hurt by a terrorist?"

Blossom Reutlinger confides that when she drives to her daughter 
in Beit Shean she often thinks, wouldn't it be wonderful to be 
free, not to worry about the roads we go on. "And then I realized 
that in Washington I also closed my car windows in certain 
neighborhoods," she says.

Ben-Ari feels it isn't terrorism that causes people to leave, 
but it can be the oil fueling the fire. "People leave for social 
and economic reasons, particularly if their children go back," 
she explains.

"The monthly payment for independent living [here] can be 
prohibitive, while a person can buy a condominium in Florida 
very cheaply," says 81-year-old Lynn Davidson, an accountant and 
AACI activist in Tel Aviv.

On the other hand, some say medical considerations keep them here. 
"In 1995 a health bill was passed whereby all Israeli Kupot Holim 
[health maintenance organization] must accept every applicant, 
whatever his preexisting medical condition," explains Josie Arbel 
of the AACI national office. "This allows retiree immigrants the 
standard basket of medical services. [But] it doesn't provide 
for the more extensive services in supplementary health insurance." 

Shirley Smalheiser claims that the Israeli government health 
insurance is superior to Medicare and Medicaid. "In the U.S. 
supplementary medical care is an imperative," she says, "and 
that's very expensive."

A retiree can be more frightened by terrorism when he or she 
is not active, says Ben-Ari. "The more a person shuts himself up 
in the house, the more he's affected." One way of combating fear 
is to acquire the tools for functioning in times of crisis. 
There are women's organizations in Jerusalem that are teaching 
people how to assist the social workers at Bikur Holim Hospital 
to help families of terror victims.

"Retirees can be available at all times," says Celia Goldman, 
a warm, calming ola from Chicago who volunteers at the hospital. 
"Our job is to be there for the family. We give them something 
to drink, some cookies. We keep them informed of faxes coming in 
from other hospitals concerning victims sent there. We have also 
been instructed what not to do. We must not tell them everything 
is going to be all right. We can only encourage them [and tell 
them] that they're coping well."