To the Grandparents (7/16/2009)

Earlier this week, I got an e-mail from one of our friends, Chani Schwartz, asking me if I thought it would be a good idea to tackle a sensitive area of aliyah: the difficulties and tensions that arise in families when the children (even those who are grown and have families of their own) decide to make aliyah. She, as a new olah having just gone through the process, had been getting calls from some of her friends who are coming this year. One of the major issues that kept coming up in conversation was the lack of support from their families.

I actually checked the archives and saw that I had written an article a few weeks before we left about how tough it was going to be for Goldie’s family (two of my three siblings were in Israel at that time; we are all here now, so the transition on my side was not as difficult). At that time, we knew that it would mean missing s’machot and other family get-togethers, yet we also hoped that it meant something positive for our family’s growth. We were right on both counts.

I cannot say that our extended family has been universally supportive 100 percent of the time. Yet I know that they also believe in what we have done and that they even have some measure of jealousy for the fact that we can and do live here (some more than others, none more than David). So, for our part, we have not faced the situation where our family was opposed to our coming to Israel.

I invited Chani to be a “guest columnist” and not only give me a semi-vacation (as I got last week as well), but also to provide a different voice from the one you have been hearing these past few years. I still have things to say, but for this week, the floor is Chani’s…


Are Your Children Making Aliyah?
An Aliyah Letter To Grandparents

By Chani Schwartz

The summer is upon us, and aside from thoughts of finishing school, summer camps, and family vacations, there is something else that permeates the air and peppers each conversation: “Did you hear who is making aliyah?” Most everyone in the greater New York–New Jersey area will know of someone taking the giant leap and moving to Israel.

Just under a year ago, my family was the topic of that conversation. On August 12, 2008, my husband Jason and I uprooted our family of then seven children from our comfortable home, stable jobs, and loving community in Teaneck, N.J., to move across the world to Israel.

This summer will welcome a number of new olim from the United States, many of whom will be coming after an arduous and soul-searching process culminating in the decision that aliyah is indeed for them. Many of these olim will be coming with their parents’ blessing, but unfortunately many without. It is those families that have prompted me to write to you today. I have seen far too many families and heard far too many stories of families making aliyah without their parents’ consent.

My husband and I both grew up in Woodmere. We are products of Woodmere of the ’80s and ’90s. I want to direct this article to the parents and grandparents of the children choosing or contemplating aliyah. How will you react when confronted with that fateful call of “Mom, I’m making aliyah”?

Unfortunately, all too often, the parental response is that of dismay. Parents become belligerent and angry, and sometimes even refuse to speak to their children. In response, many exclaim, “How did this happen?” Moms and dads, let me explain it to you: You helped us.

It was you who saved to take us on the ultimate family vacation to Israel, taking pictures by the Kotel, which in turn made it into every bar/bat mitzvah video. It was you who sent us to pro-Israel schools. You were the ones who picked out our clothes when we had to wear blue and white on Yom HaAtzma’ut, and it was you who helped us sing the proper words of HaTikvah when we came home in first grade garbling the stanzas.

Certainly you cannot forget when you took us, rain or shine (often rain), as far back as each of us can remember, to the Israel Day Parade. It was on Fifth Avenue that you pointed out all the schools, the floats, Mayor Koch (if we got there early enough), telling us, “Look, he’s the Mayor of the whole New York City, and he’s Jewish!” and explained why it is so important that we show our support each and every year. Finally, it was you who allowed us our rite of passage to spend a year, sometimes two, studying in Israel, post-high-school. How can we not develop a love for Israel—a sense of entitlement that this is where we belong?

It’s hard to let go at any point in life. Not everyone has the luxury of having his or her children living right next door, but many do. But the question is, are you prepared to stay in the Five Towns the rest of your lives? What happens when you decide to retire and move to Florida? Do we have the right to ask you not to move and enjoy your retirement because we want you to stay nearby? When we do ask, what will you do?

Mom and Dad, you’ve raised us to be independent. You sought for us to be accomplished professionals. You hoped for us to grow up, get married, and have lives of our own. Part of that maturity is making grown-up decisions about what is right for our nuclear family.

Please do not think that we did this to hurt you. We understand what our decision means for you. We are taking away your grandchildren and not allowing you to see them grow on a daily basis. We will no longer have the fluidity to pop over as you or we please, and we are limiting your involvement in the practical raising of our children. Just know that it is a major loss for us as well.

Please consider that we are the ones leaving our family and friends behind. We realize that our children will be some of the few not to have their grandparents front and center for every siddur play and presentation. We are the ones that will not be able to join every family simcha. Yes, these are the choices we made; and yes, these are the consequences we will endure. But know that we make aliyah in the hopes of a better, albeit possibly harder, life for our family.

I am blessed that our decision to make aliyah was met only with support by my parents, who are still living in the Five Towns. That’s not to say there weren’t any tears (on both sides), wisps of regret in voices, and conversations brought to abrupt ends due to lumps in the throat. But to our faces, my parents were the picture of strength, admiration, and support.

They helped in every way possible, and they were there at JFK airport waving the entire time as we passed through the gates to board our plane until they could see us no longer. Having their support meant the world to us. It allowed the stressful process to be just a little easier, knowing we had our parental love and support. For that, I thank G-d…and my parents.

So, if the time comes and you are placed in this position, please be careful with your response. Think what you want behind closed doors, and even voice your concerns once to ensure your children have thought of all the angles. But to your children be supportive and be happy, and you will see how much it is appreciated in return. It makes all the difference.