Greta L. Kaplan

I knew Dick because I was a friend of his oldest daughter, Alisa.  Alisa and
I met in ninth grade and have remained friends since that time.

High school was a difficult time for me (as it is for many).  Both my
parents' homes were difficult places to be at time.  And so, I often found
myself escaping to the Israels' house.  I felt very welcome there, and was
happy to learn the proper rituals for Sabbath meals because it was such a
pleasure to be with this family that was so much a family.

Of course, I was rather fascinated with Dick.  Who else's dad kept bees?  I
didn't know anyone else at all who had a Vespa scooter.  When I asked how
the Israels, as Jews, could own a German car, Rabbi Israel was happy to
discuss that topic with me in his humorous, matter-of-fact, and adult
fashion.  He did not talk down to me as "just a kid," and did not hold my
ignorance of Judaism and "Jewishness" against me.

As I watched Alisa become a parent herself, I was amused to see how similar
her parenting style was to her own parents'.  And it was one I approved of.
If her child fell down, Alisa waited for the child to start crying before
giving that child all the warmth and comfort needed.  She was completely
there for her children, but she wasn't going to teach them that falling down
was always and automatically a bad thing.  Dick and Sherry had exactly the
same style.  In having passed it along to their children, they have done a
mitzvah for future generations of Israels.

Mainly, I remember the warmth of that house at 38 Ballard.  It was a refuge
for me at a time I badly needed refuge.  I am terribly sorry I didn't make a
point of telling Dick how grateful I am sooner; now it is too late.  I am
sure, though, that at the time he just felt like he was doing the usual
right thing; that was how you treated your neighbors, your kids' friends, a
15-year-old who needed a break; he might well be surprised to hear me thank
him.  It is something I, however, will never forget.