A Year In Israel

AnnArbor
n August 1967, Israel had just finished a terrible
war.
What a terrific time, Ralph Lowenstein thought,
to take his wife and two children, Joan and Henry, to
live there for a year.
But it's not the aftermath of violence that Joan
remembers of Israel. It's the beauty, the sense of com-
munity, the wonder of it all.
Joan Lowenstein now lives in Ann Arbor where she
is a member of the city council and former president of
the Ann Arbor Jewish Federation. Her husband,
Jonathan Trobe, is chairman of the Allied Jewish
Campaign of Ann Arbor. They have four children.
Ralph Lowenstein, a professor, took the year as a
sabbatical. Living for 12 months in Israel, when Joan
was 12 years old, "has influenced my whole life," his
daughter says.
Lowenstein was born in Gainesville, Fla., into an
ardently Zionist family. Her father had fought as a vol-
unteer in the 1948 War of Independence in Israel.
Even after the family settled in Columbia, Mo.,
when Ralph took a position with the University of
Missouri School of Journalism, the family remained
active in Jewish life. Located between St. Louis and

I

Don't Be Afraid'

EE

den West Drucker was just the kind of mom
a girl wanted. She was a kind woman, always
there for her children. She loved to take her
daughters shopping and on adventures to the park. She
was never too busy to listen.
Of course, there was that car thing.
"My mother really liked to read, which she passed
on to me," says daughter Robyn Glickman, Hillel Day
School of Metropolitan Detroit principal for grades K-
5.
"She liked poetry and wrote her own, and she read a
lot of mysteries."
Her favorite reading material, though, was about
cars.
"My mother loved the inner workings of cars," says
Glickman, of Southfield. 'And that I definitely did not
inherit from her.
"She never met my husband, David, but she would
have loved the fact that he loves cars and earns a living
as an automotive engineer."
Robyn and her sister, Michelle, grew up in Chicago.
Their mother — who would one day give Robyn
advice that she lives by to this day — was first a
teacher and social worker. After having children, Helen
became a full-time homemaker.
"She was a warm person and a good listener," Robyn
recalls. "So everyone knew and liked her. Everywhere
we went she was talking to people. When I was a teen
I would think, This is so embarrassing. She's talking to
people in the grocery line!' Of course, that's what I do
now"
Helen was a brave woman, her daughter says. She
worked many years as a kindergarten teacher. "She
could only teach the little kids because of her height,"

Kansas City, Columbia was pretty
much a town of tacky malls and
not a single synagogue; yet, as a
college student Joan became presi-
dent of the university's Hillel
chapter.
Eighteen years ago, Joan came
to Ann Arbor with her husband, a
physician, when he took a job at
the University of Michigan
Medical Center.
But no matter where she lives,
Israel is always there with her.
And when she looks back, it's like Joan Lowenstein with husband, Jonathan Trobe, and their two sons
peering into a locket, a secret
place where happiness never
diminishes.
Today, Lowenstein and her husband surround their
"We lived that year [1967] in Ramat HaSharon.
children — their two sons together, and Trobe's two
There was such a great feeling of optimism in the
daughters from a previous marriage — with the same
country, and pride," Lowenstein recalls.
kind of joy.
"In the schools, there was so much spirit. I especially
"\X/hat I experienced in Israel influences the way I
remember that whenever anyone had a party, everyone
raise my children," Lowenstein says.
was invited. Unlike in the United States, where the
Additionally, Lowenstein and Trobe (whose own par-
teen years can be so difficult and where everyone was
ents lived for 14 years in Israel) make frequent trips to
always forming cliques, in Israel everyone was together.
Israel and keep in close contact with friends living
"I think that's what I remember best about Israel:
there. ❑
childhood was so joyful"

Robyn explains. "I actually found this in her corre-
spondence. She had letters saying, 'You won't be able to
teach the older grades, of course, because you're too
short."'
She later became a social worker.
"She would go on home visits to some of the worst
places. Some of these people suffered from mental ill-
ness, like the woman who never left her house."
Helen loved to shop for clothes, "and especially get-
ting a good bargain." She could always find exactly
what you were looking for. A green vest with purple
buttons and yellow trim for $14? Helen would see it,
then call you right away.
Most of all, Helen loved her daughters. She often
took her girls to the park. She would pack sandwiches
and invite Robyn and Michelle on "a mystery tour,"
which meant a stop at a park they had never visited.
"I loved it," Robyn says. "I especially remember one
place, Cicero Park, because it had a huge, twisting slide
that came out of some creature's mouth. Every time I
see a twisty slide today, I think of that."
When Helen was 46, she was diagnosed with a rare
form of cancer. Robyn was 20 at the time. Physicians
told Helen she had six months to live; she survived
another six years. Robyn still misses her.
Evenings often found Helen talking with her daugh-
ters, enjoying a cup of hot chocolate. "Whenever we
were upset or after a date, my mother would make us a
cup of hot chocolate and we would talk."
She also left her daughters with bits of advice which,
unlike the passion for cars, defines their lives to this
day.
"My mother once told me, 'Whenever you're mak-
ing a decision, you shouldn't be afraid. If you feel
afraid, learn to conquer your fear. But don't ignore
your intuition, either."'
That lesson, Robyn says, has helped direct her life in

Robyn Glickman in the arms of her mother

every way.
"I use it for the small things, like buying a dress," she
says. "I use it for the big things, too, like raising my
children. I use it for everything." ❑

01:N

9/17
2004

49