by Barbara Rosenblum

Once upon a time, in a faraway place called Brooklyn, a baby boy named Israel Rubin was born. A few years later, about a mile away, I was born. We probably never met, but Israel and I walked along the same streets, shopped in the same stores, and went to the same movie theaters. On cold days, we warmed our hands on hot sweet potatoes that were sold by street vendors. We played stoop ball, and stick ball, and went with our friends to the same local public park. We must have been a couple of weird kids because our favorite hang-out was the public library. When we were older, we walked a long way to the BIG library and to the Brooklyn Museum. Neither of us could afford the 10 cent subway fare but we enjoyed the FREE Sunday afternoon concerts at the museum. And we both earned our Bachelor's degrees at the City College of NY.

Then our paths took different directions - We both completed graduate school and built careers. We had good marriages and experienced the many joys, AND THE CHALLENGES, that came with parenthood. For Israel, there were two sons, Ronnie and David, and a daughter, Shirah - for me two daughters, Marla and Abby. There was home ownership in the suburbs and there were opportunities to travel. And each of us experienced the problems that came with sick and aging parents and in-laws. At the conclusion of those years, we welcomed Jeffrey and Kyle, our first grandchildren. Amy, Steven, and Sophie joined us later.

Both of Israel's marriages and my marriage ended with the deaths of our spouses. David didn't want Israel to be alone so he moved back home and lived with his dad for awhile. But we both realized that our children had grown into responsible and respected adults and that it was time for us to redefine ourselves and start new and independent lives.

I decided to remain in Tucson and Israel decided to live in Tucson for half of each year. In Tucson, we each felt closer to G-d. Early in 1994, Israel and I purchased homes on the same street. Before I moved into my new home, the builder's representative said to me, "Barbara, you're Jewish, aren't you? A man just moved into that first house at the end of the street. He wants to know more about Tucson's Jewish community." As I was driving past a few days later, I saw a white-haired man through the kitchen window. I stopped my car, knocked on the door, introduced myself, and handed the gentleman my copy of the "Arizona Jewish Post." I thought the "Jewish Post" would serve as his introduction to the synagogues and Jewish organizations in Tucson. And that's how Israel Rubin and I met. We became neighbors and, in a very short time, we were also best friends.

Others here today will pay tribute to Israel by telling you about his intellect, his creativity and his many achievements and accomplishments. I'd like to tell you about the man I knew and loved.

Israel's zest for life was contagious. He was not afraid to face challenges and continue beyond them. And although I tried to avoid it, he had a talent for involving me in his numerous projects.

Israel's interests covered a wide area of subjects, but do you know that he was also interested in astronomy? We attended classes at the planetarium. One series was about comets; another about the stars in the skies above Tucson. Thanks to Israel, I can identify many stars and some of the constellations in the night sky.

Israel knew that I was interested in the sciences so several years ago he agreed to study geology with me. I learned about the geological forces which created the Earth's formations. Israel learned two words - DIFFERENTIAL EROSION - After that, whenever he looked at a rocky or mountainous area, he declared, "That's a good example of DIFFERENTIAL EROSION." And speaking of rocks, Israel had an impressive collection of fossils and minerals. He loved those with vibrant colors. One day, he rang my doorbell and handed me a gift - it was a blue rock - a chunk of azurite. Another time, Israel came to my front door, with a huge grin on his face. He was holding another gift - a bowl containing a Siamese fighting fish.

Israel loved EVERYTHING that grows. To him, there were no weeds since all growing things were G-d's creations. It really bothered him to hear me complain about the weeds in his garden. And Israel always provided a few plants for me to nurture in my home. l still have an amaryllis, a few orchids, and two esrog seedlings which he started from pits. Each spring, before he returned to Maryland, we drove to Picacho Peak to see the season's wildflowers.

Israel was also a playwright. Just a few months ago one of his screenplays was read by a cast of professional actors. The play is about a pope who discovers that his ancestors were Jewish. The critique that followed was explosive. Israel considered it a work in progress and he had not yet completed making all the planned changes and additions.

The sounds of music always filled Israel's home - Klezmer, Mozart, Ladino, Louis Armstrong - all kinds of music. His constant singing and humming brought me a great deal of pleasure.

And Israel Rubin had no concept of night and day. If he was awake, then surely I was too. It was not unusual for him to phone in the middle of the night. Among many calls, one came at 2 a.m. to report that he had returned from a visit with his daughter in Israel and to tell me all the details of Shirah's many interests. Another time, at 3 a.m., he wanted to know what to do. He had just been stung by a scorpion.

During the summer months, when Israel was in Maryland, I received at least two large envelopes of newspaper clippings and magazine articles every week. After he was sure that I had finished reading them, we had some very lively and heated discussions. You see, Israel and I disagreed about most issues. We had different political views and differences of opinion about public school vouchers, bilingual education, social and economic reform. We disagreed so much and so often that one friend referred to us as "Mr. and Mrs. Bickering." or "The Bickersomes."

There were some terrible times too. There was the tragic rollover accident of Israel's Ford Explorer with its Firestone tires and the death of his friend, Josephine. Israel walked away with a few broken bones and many visible bruises. He suffered many INVISIBLE bruises too. Even before the highway police arrived, he called and asked me to tell his children. After he was admitted to a hospital, we spoke on the phone until his son Ronnie arrived at his side. Maryland to New Mexico... Ronnie, how did you get there so fast?

I had surgery and Israel was there for me. HE took me for the preadmissions medical tests and then waited with my brother Irwin until I was out of surgery. Israel was the first person I saw when the anesthesia wore off. Last year, after Marla and Abby completed their nursing duties and returned to their own homes, he insisted on sleeping on my living room sofa for several nights. If I needed anything, I was to ring a bell and he promised to come running. I never rang the bell but how comforting it was for me to know that Israel was nearby. During that time, he also did my marketing and cooking. One of his specialties was a dish made with tofu. He called it his "michel."

Israel also shared my joys. Almost 4 years ago, he traveled to PA and was there with me when Randy and Abby were married. And when Sophie was born, Israel was the first person my grandson Kyle and I phoned with the good news. Today, the number of my children has grown to nine and I am the grandmother of five exceptional children.

We attended a few Elderhostel programs together. His name tag said, "Israel Rubin, Potomac, MD" and my name tag said "Barbara Rosenblum, Tucson, AZ." At the University of Judaism in CA, two curious women noticed the differences in the name tags and questioned me. After hearing my explanation, they wanted to know how to find a handsome and intelligent man like Israel with whom they could travel.

Several years ago, I saw a movie called "A Man for All Seasons." It was about a man who arrived at his beliefs through a biblical searching of his conscience. Israel was that kind of man. Israel Rubin was truly a "man for all seasons." A few weeks ago I received a poem from a woman who works for my daughter. I would like to paraphrase that poem.

Time takes the small and simple memories we hold of those we love.
And silently turns them into gold.
It comforts me to know that death cannot diminish the important ways that Israel touched my life.
Grief cannot take away the happiness we shared.
Sorrow will fade in time.
But love remains forever.