FROM MIDWEST page 58 grew up in the States. I think this is natural, as these are the kind of people with whom I have the most in common." "In the neighborhood where we live [Har Nof, a pre- dominantly Orthodox neighborhood in Jerusalem], there's a large American population and that feels good for me, especially since we don't have family here," Ms. Kagan said. Ms. Phillips attributes her own mainly English-speak- Mg social circle to the fact that her Hebrew is "not great." The exception to the rule, Mr. Koenigsburg said he socializes with both North Americans and native Is- raelis. Because his South African wife has lived in Is- rael since she was a teen ager, he has met many native Israelis through her. He also felt that the culture shock in Israel was less acute for him than for many immi- grants because the Israelis who study in yeshiva with him share his values. Despite the difficulties, the Michiganians who re- main in Israel say they prefer their new to their old lives and, aside from their relatives, do not miss much about the United States. "It's a different standard of living," Ms. Phillips said. "But the spiritual aspect here makes up for that. I heard someone say once that [coming to Israel] is a trade- off of quality of living for quality of life." She has been impressed with the degree to which the residents of her predomi- nantly Orthodox neighborhood are willing to help each other. She also enjoys "hav- ing shuls on every corner and the Western Wall in our backyard." In contrast to Ms. Phillip's Orthodox neighborhood in Jerusalem, Ms. Lapides lives in a predominantly secular suburb of Tel Aviv, but she also commented on the feeling of community in her neighborhood. "I know my neighbors, I know the shop- keepers. It's a real neighborhood atmos- phere," she said, adding that "here, people look out for each other." Furthermore, as a single parent, Ms. Lapides finds Israel more convenient than Michigan; the lack of crime and abundance of public trans- portation allows her 13-year-old daughter, Simah Phillips and family in Har Nof, Jerusalem. liana, to be more independent. "In Detroit, everything was so far apart, you had to ing exposed to things that have a Jewish source. I feel drive your kids everywhere," she said. "Here, things are like we're part of a larger picture." "I have no complaints about the United States," said accessible to kids. It's a great way to grow up." Like Ms. Lapides, Ms. Kagan feels like Israel is a bet- Chaim (Charles) Levi, who made aliyah with his wife ter place for her children than Michigan. She said she in 1971. "But [Israel] is where we belong." ❑ finds its rewarding "to see [my children] growing up be- On The Rise: Aliyah From North America Has Inc eased In The 1990s Ur mike the vast majority of Israel's immigrants, North AmericanJews who move to Israel under the Law of Return are not seeking better eco- nomic conditions or freedom from persecution. Instead, many of them choose to give up a comfortable existence in a relatively peaceful country and subject themselves to high taxes, required military service, a new language, and a hectic day-to-day existence mired in long lines and bureaucracy. Not to mention, they are plunk- ing themselves down in the midst of the volatile Middle East. In Hebrew, the word for immigration to Israel, aliyah, means "rising." But until recently, for many American immigrants the rise was followed quickly by a fall. Ac- cording to Akiva Werber of the Israel Aliyah Center's Chicago office, in the 1970s return rates for American immigrants were "disastrous." But he said that in the past decade, "sticking numbers" (the percentage of immigrants who stay in Israel) have improved, with more than 80 percent of American im- migrants remaining in Israel. Mr. Werber attributes the change to a shifting focus in the World Zionist Organization's aliyah department. Prospective olim are now discouraged from "leaping into Bound for Israel NORTH AMERICAN JEWISH EMIGRATION, 1986-1996 that cold water." Instead they are urged to prepare by first living temporarily in Israel, studying Hebrew, learn- ing more about Israeli life and then making the deci- sion to immigrate. In addition to the heightened emphasis on prepara- tion, Israel's improved economy means that new im- migrants face better job prospects and a higher standard of living. Kalman Grossman, executive director of the North American Aliyah Delegation, credits the peace process with the rise in immigration, and anticipates that if it continues, so will North American immigra- tion. "We expect aliyah will increase once we have a much quieter situation," he said. According to Israel's Central Bureau of Statistics, a total of 71,480 American Jews immigrated to Israel be- tween 1948 and 1995. Although extremely low in com- parison to the influxes from the former Soviet Union and Ethiopia, North American immigration has mod- erately increased in the 1990s, from 1,805 immigrants arriving in 1989 to 3,269 arriving in 1996. Michigan Aliyah shaliach (emissary) Jeff Kaye says that his office sends roughly 25 new immigrants from Michigan each year. Mr. Kaye says that Michigan olim 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 - `Data was provided by the Israel Aliyah Center, New York, N.Y. are a diverse lot, representing Jews of all ages, politics and religious affiliations. Mr. Grossman says that American olim are on aver- age the youngest of Israel's new citizens, with 72 percent of new immigrants under the age of 32. ❑ From Detroit To Jerusalem And Back • • One Couple's Brief Life As Israelis M ichael and Elaine Serling look back on their time in Israel as a "life-changing experience." As new immigrants in 1971, the Serlings had a lot going for them. They quickly became friends with their classmates in ulpan (intensive Hebrew class). They had many relatives in Is- rael. And they easily mastered Hebrew and found jobs. But like many Americans who moved to Israel in the 1970s, they ended up deciding it was not where they wanted to spend their lives. "American Jews were used to the good life, and unless they were Orthodox there wasn't a lot that was holding them [in Israel] — unless they were really ad- vancing in their work," Mr. Ser- ling said. Raised in a Conservative- Zionist family, Mr. Serling went to Israel for the first time in the summer of 1967, weeks after the tiny country had impressed the world by defeating Syrian, Egyptian and Jordanian armies. "I don't imagine that there will ever again be a time like af- ter the Six-Day War," he said. "Thousands of tourists were coming in and Israelis from all over the country were making pilgrimages to the Kotel [West- ern Wall]." Mr. Serling got caught up in the excitement of the time, and when he returned to Detroit all he could think of was Israel. The following summer he traveled to Israel again, and by the end of his trip he decided to make his life in Israel. When he married Elaine, who had never been to Israel, he told her he wanted to make aliyah. She agreed to give it a try. The two became new immi- grants in 1971 and spent six months on an ulpan in Netanya. After ulpan, the couple settled in Jerusalem. Mr. Serling found work at Bank Leumi, and Ms. Serling accepted a nursing job at Sha'arey Zedek Hospital. "We liked our jobs and liked our apartment. Things were go- ing nicely," Mr. Serling said. "But after a while, we realized that we didn't have a lot of mon- ey, we wanted to have kids, and we missed our families." Mr. Serling liked Bank Leu- mi, but was concerned he would never be able to find a job in his real field: law. Openings in the field were hard to come by then, and had to be preceded by years of internship service. "It's a lot easier to go to Israel with money," Mr. Serling said. "Trying to start out there can be extremely difficult. Today's econ- omy is better." Although aliyah did not work out for them, the Serlings do not regret having tried. "Aliyah was a necessary step in our lives to make sure there were no feelings of wanting to do it but never trying," Mr. Serling said. Residents of Farmington Hills with two daughters, the couple frequently travel to Israel. ❑