Quality You Can Build On, A Name You Can Trust. RESIDENTIAL-COMMERCIAL sommim DESIGN INRECON BUILD Give your heart an extra helping. Say no to high-fat foods. .• - . • . — to 4 30 -- American Heart Association . • .. .. FANTASY page 29 these days, the situation is dif- ferent. Israel pulls. America doesn't push. And if things don't work out, contemporary Americans — like their pre- 20th century European coun- terparts — can always retrace their steps. "Our ancestors came to America and Americans go to Israel with utopian dreams. They somehow think that everything in the new world will be wonderful. Of course, these hopes lead to disappoint- ment," Professor Sarna says. The majority of Jewish im- migrants to America started at the bottom. They had no choice but to recognize that life in ear- ly 20th-century America re- quired sweat and humility. They worked as peddlers, in garment factories. They rolled cigars. How many American Jewish immigrants to Israel today would start out on the lowest rung? Not many. One repre- sentative with a New York- based Jewish agency remarked that "the last thing Israel needs is another rabbi." Highly educated individuals wait years for professorships. Few Americans cross the ocean with visions of ditch-digging, road-building, clerking and cleaning. Russian and Ethiopi- an olim commonly serve in the more menial jobs. It's that push-pull factor again, Profes- sor Sarna says. "A Russian Jew today will say, 'Better to sweep the floors in Beersheba. At least I'll sur- vive and my children will achieve great heights.' But Americans who can't find a job at the level they want are very likely to come back to America, especially if the economy is good." Coming back, however, sometimes commands a price, emotionally, socially, spiritu- ally. The very words aliyah and yeridah (moving away from Is- rael) are value-laden. The for- mer means to ascend or rise up. The latter indicates decline. "I think the Jews who come back to America from Israel ex- perience a certain sense of sad- ness and shame about not having made it. The same is true of immigrants to America who went back to Europe and didn't get rich," Professor Sar- na says. Jeremy Shere is leaving his options open. The 24-year-old University of Michigan gradu- ate spent a year in Jerusalem after receiving his diploma in 1994. He became an intern for the Jerusalem Report maga- zine — one of the few all-Eng- lish publications around — but concluded that journalism is a tough road to travel without mastery of the native tongue. Considering aliyah, but de- termined to dodge mistakes most common to dream seek- ers, Mr. Shere investigated no- nonsense ways to prepare himself for a possible move. "If I go, I don't want to do it in a half-baked way," he says. While in Jerusalem, Mr. Shere was accepted to the Uni- versity of Michigan's law school. After consulting Israeli legal professionals, he decided to enroll. The tentative agen- da: Earn a graduate degree and return to Israel well- equipped to land a job in the field or something closely re- lated to law. A plan, of course, offers no guarantee of success, and for Jews who arrive in Israel ex- pecting the fantastic — people dancing the hora in the streets, eating falafel and walking arm-in-arm to synagogue — the Promised Land can fast be- come a land of broken promis- es. Somebody's great-great- grandfather once commented that his journey from Europe to America held a surprise. The streets, it was rumored, were paved with gold. Great-Great_Grandpa ar- rived to find it wasn't true. The streets weren't paved with gold. They weren't paved at all. What's more, he had to pave them. So it is with many an immi- grant experience. Aliyah is no exception. Moving to Israel is not a risk-free adventure. From the hills around Jerusalem, City of Gold, Ms. Levy weighs the good with the bad. "This is better for me," she says. "Not for everyone. But for most Americans, well, it's a tough choice. I'd say they're stuck somewhere over the At- lantic." ❑