aliyah

The Original Article is Published at The Jerusalem Post

Parting wisdom for potential olim: Surround yourself with a familiar environment, even in a foreign country.

When the Sone family made aliyah from Montreal, Shawna promised her children they could continue attending Camp Ramah, their beloved Jewish summer camp in Canada.

However, in Israel she was surprised to learn that for many of their children’s friends, summers did not have a similar experience and that families barely survived the often dreaded hofesh hagadol, the long, unstructured summer break.

The chef, cookbook writer, mother of three sons, and board chairperson of the Morris and Rosalind Goodman Family Foundation was inspired to share the magic of sleepaway camp with large numbers of Israelis, so she founded Summer Camps Israel to provide camp opportunities to Israeli children over the summers. Now she offers these camp experiences to Israeli children impacted by the current war.

While the upbeat, always positive Shawna always loved Israel, she was in many ways an unintentional olah.

She grew up in Montreal in a family that “stacked the deck,” she says, in favor of the children falling in love with Israel. They attended Jewish schools and camps, participated in the community, visited Israel regularly, and had tremendous pride in being Jewish.

Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper speaking at 2009 Canada Day celebrations on Parliament Hill. (credit: KASHMERA/CC BY 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)/VIA WIKIMEDIA COMMONS)

“My father woke up and went to bed with the news of Israel, but we were Diaspora Jews,” she notes, “Israel was ‘over there’ and no one ever encouraged me to move – not rabbis, not school, not camps.” She enjoyed her junior year of college in Israel, but aliyah was not in the plans.

In contrast, her husband, Todd Sone, grew up in a very Zionist family in Toronto and always had aliyah on his mind.

When Todd was in ninth grade, his pharmacist father spent a sabbatical in Jerusalem with the family, and Todd enjoyed an incredible year in French Hill, attending the Himmelfarb School. His friends left glowing comments in his yearbook, complimenting him for fitting in so nicely and for being such an important part of the class.

Todd dreamed of returning to Israel and finally did for his junior year of college at Hebrew University. Shawna playfully notes that Todd “had aliyah in his blood.” There is some friendly disagreement about whether his desire to make aliyah was disclosed on their first date. “He claims he told me he planned to move to Israel. I think I wasn’t listening.”

The two married in 1996. At around the 10-year mark, the idea of aliyah started nagging at Todd. The family began spending a month every July in Israel, where the kids attended Ramah’s Jerusalem Day Camp. They then returned to Ramah Canada for the second month.

The couple began to realize just how good their kids had it in Montreal. Family, community, and friends “ticked every box.” They began thinking about ways to get their children out of their comfort zone – something “adventurous” to “build resilience,” Shawna says. She considered “random countries, like Belize,” but settled on relocating for a year to Israel.

They set out for their furnished Ra’anana rental apartment with “14 hockey bags” and “pretended to live here.” Todd continued working with his North American-based employer.

Meeting Canada’s prime minister and then making aliyah

In January of their Israel year, then-prime minister of Canada Stephen Harper came to Israel for a visit.

“My mother of blessed memory was a huge fan of his,” Shawna says. “She used to say we will never live through a time when we will have a prime minister who is so pro-Israel.” Shawna was excited that her parents would be in Israel, as they were invited to be part of the trip and the opening of KKL-JNF’s Stephen J. Harper Hula Valley Bird Sanctuary Visitor and Education Centre.

Sadly, her mother, Rosalind, was diagnosed with lung cancer and was unable to make the trip.

Shawna and Todd were offered the chance to join the prime minister’s delegation. “The country was lined with Canadian flags. I realized you don’t have to hate something to love something. I can be a bissel [a bit] of both. My identities could be aligned with one another.” She smiles, recalling, “Bibi was singing ‘Let It Be’ with Harper at the David Citadel on karaoke night! Why are we leaving so fast!?”

THE SONES decided to stay, moving back to Israel “for good” the following year.

At the time, their boys were in grades 4, 7, and 11.

“There is never a perfect age,” Shawna admits, crediting her community for what soon became a successful aliyah experience. Friends “took our phones and put in their numbers.” At first, she found this a little aggressive but soon came to appreciate these were the important go-to people to find out “what time school ends, how to fix a flat tire, where to find a guy to do this and that. Those numbers were lifelines!”

She credits her friends and community for helping: “Everyone was once where you are, and they want you to succeed.” She considers this a “unique experience” in Israel, where “everyone pays it forward, is authentic, genuine, and kind. There is an attentiveness to others here.”

Shawna also credits Todd for being “the driver.”

“Todd had this insatiable itch to be part of the story. He didn’t want to ask ‘Where was I?’ when we had this opportunity.” She adds, “You need a driver. I was willing to go for the journey – and were both on the same page at the end of the day.”

She acknowledges that you “have to come with 500% of will” – everything can knock you down. Fluency in Hebrew, she says, is crucial – even in a community with many Anglos. “Language is the most important thing – and Todd had it. I am still in ulpan – and will be until the end of days!”

Even without the language, Shawna has found her purpose in philanthropic work, with its base in summer camps. She met Todd at Ramah, and her deepest friendships came from her camp experience. “I am beholden to camp,” she says.

“I started asking questions about what kids do here in the summer. Why are the lights off in June? Why was summer break dreaded by all?” She knew she wanted to help grow sleepaway summer camp in Israel.

In 2019, she started the Forum for Summer Camps to bring informal education professionals together under an umbrella. Despite the COVID-19 pandemic, two 10-day camp programs – one of which was My Piece of the Puzzle, a program that integrates children and youth at risk and those with disabilities – opened in 2020. They continue to grow. There are currently 28 camps. They served 15,000 campers last summer.

“We are trying to be reflective of the diversity of Israel,” notes Shawna proudly as she describes one camp serving Jewish and Bedouin girls. “We hope that camp will become part of the journey of becoming an adult in Israel. We hope that every Israeli who wants it will have a 10-day camp experience and feel it for life.”

The current situation in Israel has led Shawna and her team to offer Winter Boost Camps, three-day camp experiences for children who have been evacuated from their homes. To date, they have served 600 children.

While Shawna’s camp work continues to fill her time and renders great satisfaction, the professionally trained chef finds ways to combine all of her interests.

She has led Shefa, a women’s trip to Israel “to celebrate Israel’s abundance” and to be inspired by Israeli women making an impact.

Shawna, who also teaches cooking classes, reports, “I use food mixed with philanthropy.” For example, she teaches a class at Leket, Israel’s National Food Bank, on how to cook with leftover food, and to raise awareness about the organization’s mission.

She offers parting wisdom for potential olim: Surround yourself with a familiar environment, even in a foreign country. She notes that there is something for everyone in her Ra’anana community, such as English-speaking mahjong groups, yoga classes, and Torah study.

She sums it up: “Find your comforts!” ■

SHAWNA GOODMAN SONE, 52 FROM MONTREAL TO RA’ANANA, 2015

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Original Article Is Published At The Jerusalem Post

As Benjy celebrates 40 years since his aliyah, he remains positive yet realistic.

When Benjy Munitz’s family moved to a “more Jewish neighborhood” of Los Angeles and joined a synagogue in time for his bar mitzvah, his parents issued an ultimatum.

They said, “You have to go to a [Jewish] youth group once. It is your choice after that whether to continue or not.” The experience was so positive that Benjy kept going, got increasingly more involved in Jewish communal life, made aliyah less than a decade later, and spent his life dedicated to tikkun olam (repairing the world).

Growing up in a Reform temple at that time meant two things: community and tikkun olam. He credits his parents and various rabbis for instilling these values in him.

“My parents boycotted grapes [a labor strike in the late 1960s organized by the Agricultural Workers Organizing Committee against table grape growers to fight against exploitation of farm workers]. And our shul rabbi, Steven Jacobs, was known as ‘The Boat People Rabbi,’ since he felt it was a Jewish obligation to help resettle refugees from Vietnam,” he recalls.

Benjy was “all in” with his involvement in the Reform movement and tikkun olam. He became a leader in NIFTY (National Federation of Temple of Youth) and attended Jewish summer camp Swig in the Santa Cruz mountains, where they had a model kibbutz.

BENJY HARVESTS onions on a tractor at Kibbutz Lotan, 1980s. (credit: Maor family)

In high school, Benjy secured prison uniforms and organized a demonstration outside of NBC in 1978 to spotlight the plight of Soviet Jews; he and fellow protesters wanted the studio to show the state of Soviet Jews and refuseniks during their coverage of the upcoming 1980 Olympics. Benjy also organized a demonstration to bring attention to apartheid in South Africa.

One of the founders of Kibbutz Yahel encouraged Benjy to go to Israel after high school. He spent the year on the Machon l’Madrichei Chutz L’Aretz Jewish Agency Leadership Program, which “led to a very high aliyah rate” among the Reform movement participants.

He credits three experiences from that year in Israel with contributing to his desire to make aliyah: 1) meeting relatives from Argentina from the same shtetl as his family, who came to Israel on aliyah after the Six Day War; 2) in 1979 experiencing a pipe bomb go off a block away from his home in Jerusalem and seeing “how Israel turns from a country into a community, with people caring for each other and helping each other out;” and 3) while living on Kibbutz Yahel, learning about the founding of a new Reform Kibbutz Lotan, in the Arava. (“It checked all the boxes, community, being active and Jewish history and tikun olam.“)

After spending that formative year in Israel, Benjy returned to the US for three years to attempt to get his college degree. He spent just over a year at UCLA before transferring to a junior college. “They had agricultural fields. I learned how to drive a tractor and learned about soil,” he says.

He also was a Zionist youth leader, spoke about Israel on college campuses, and continued the process of preparing to make aliyah, including saying goodbye to family, which he stresses is “an important part of the process. “

Making aliyah and moving to Israel

IN OCTOBER 1983, Benjy made aliyah to Kibbutz Lotan, six months after its founding. “I was gung-ho about the kibbutz, since it brought together several of the ideologies I believed in, and it had a great group of young and very talented people,” he explains.

After a year and a half in Israel, he and other olim (new immigrants) from the kibbutz enlisted in the army together. “Wearing an army uniform on a bus was the first time I felt really Israeli – until I opened my mouth [to speak Hebrew]!” Benjy playfully adds that he learned a great deal in the army, including “all about Hebrew initials and the best places around the country to get food.” He was flattered when offered to become an IDF officer, but he felt that “making the desert green was my contribution” and focused his energies on his kibbutz work.

In addition to being in charge of field crops such as melons, tomatoes, and onions, and later serving as general secretary of the kibbutz, he met his future wife, Nicole (Nicky), who arrived on the kibbutz from the suburbs of Sydney, Australia, a few years after Benjy arrived.

“Meeting Nicky was the best thing that happened to me on kibbutz,” reports Benjy, who changed his last name to Maor after getting married in December 1992. They combined the M from Munitz’s name, and the R from Nicky’s last name (Center) and came up with Maor.

Nicky has worked as a lawyer for the Israel Religious Action Center of the Reform Movement (IRAC) since 1992. In 1996, she became director of IRAC’s Legal Center for Olim, which has represented more than 100,000 new immigrants, particularly regarding issues relating to the Interior Ministry and conversion. She has spearheaded conversion cases before the Supreme Court and recently won the landmark decision recognizing Reform and Conservative conversions performed in Israel.

DESPITE BENJY’S professional successes and his fluency in Hebrew, he began to realize that he still had some language gaps, especially given his work in the area of Jewish identity. When colleagues at Oranim College of Education realized he was American-born and therefore fluent in English, they asked him to help with fundraising.

Benjy’s fundraising role was eye-opening and career-altering. “You can do tikkun olam through fundraising. You help bridge the gap between doing partners and fundraising partners,” he says.

Benjy has since spent almost his entire professional career in the Israel fundraising sphere, always combining his love for the fundraising and tikkun olam. He’s worked for Hamidrasha Center for Study and Fellowship (educational programs for new immigrants from the Former Soviet Union) and TAKAM (the United Kibbutz Movement), establishing the first secular yeshiva in Israel, and running programs for Russian and Ethiopian immigrants.

In recent years, he’s also spent time as director of global resource development at Beit Issie Shapiro, a Ra’anana-based leader in the disability field, as well as fundraising at the Leo Baeck Education Center, Hillel Israel, and at his current position, Tsad Kadima (A Step Forward), a program for people with cerebral palsy that operates in six cities in Israel.

As Benjy celebrates 40 years since his aliyah, he remains positive yet realistic. “On October 6, now 40 years ago, I packed my bags, got on a plane, and made aliyah. If you are not happy day to day, it will never stick.” Benjy is generally very happy with his decisions and with life in Israel.

“After 40 years, I want to be optimistic about how Israel has changed for the better, though sometimes it is hard to see the positives.” He jokes, “I can’t say ‘Ein li eretz acheret (I don’t have another country),” noting that he has two passports, and his children each have three.

He is proud of his three children, Sagi, Eden, and Tamar. All serve in the IDF, and two sons returned from overseas for the recent IDF call-up. Benjy adds, “I was young and idealistic when I made aliyah; now I am a little older and still idealistic!”

However, he cautions that anyone considering making aliyah should be aware of just how hard it is to leave family behind. “What I miss most about LA is Mexican food and my family. The family piece starts off difficult, then gets worse. Having family halfway around world – both Nicky and I – made us jealous of olim from the UK (with family closer by).

“You don’t think of the ages of your parents (now and in the future) when you make aliyah at 23. Everything has a price,” he says.

But ultimately, “you feel alive here!” ■

Benjy Maor, 62 From Los Angeles

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Original Article Posted On The Jerusalem Post

The Bentows no longer live in Denmark, but living in Israel, they have many reminders of their former country.

For the Bentows of Denmark, making aliyah represents something unique for each of the five family members. For mother Metti, it is a chance for the former El Al flight attendant to make aliyah for the second time in 25 years. For father Matisyahu, a former El Al security agent and observant Jew by Choice for decades, it is an opportunity to practice Judaism comfortably and in a supportive community. For two children, it means serving in the IDF. For the youngest son, it is a chance to integrate into Israeli society through attending school with peers. For the whole family, aliyah is a logical next step in their love for and commitment to Israel. It is also a practical response to the antisemitism experienced on many occasions in their native Denmark. 

Metti first made aliyah at age 18, lived in Israel for five years, and worked for El Al. “They sent me back to Denmark for one or two years – that was the plan,” she smiles. She adds, “I met my husband, we had three kids, and returned to Israel 25 years later.”

Matisyahu, known at the time as Claus, was studying Hebrew at university. He was inspired by a female friend at the university (who worked in security for El Al) to consider working for El Al security. “They were in doubt about my Jewishness, even though I was in the process of conversion from age 22,” he says. He spent time in Israel working on a kibbutz but found the Rabbinate to not be very supportive of his conversion.

“We met at El Al and realized it would be the two of us,” reports Metti. Matisyahu converted, the two married and had two children in just over two years. “We discussed aliyah many times over the years,” Metti adds, noting that they spent the first 15 years of marriage “exploring our level of Yiddishkeit.” The two agreed that raising the children “Jewish and as proud Zionists” was important. “From the moment they first breathed, we sang Shema and ‘Hatikvah,’” Metti notes proudly.

The Bentow family lived in Copenhagen in close proximity to the Great Synagogue and the Chabad House. They joke that they lived near the Rabbi Triangle, an area of town close to the homes of three rabbis. The children attended Jewish day school and kindergarten, frequently visited Israel, and spent a lot of time discussing and debating Israel and other Jewish topics around the table.

The flag of Denmark (credit: REUTERS)

While the family discussed aliyah from time to time, daughter Hannah, even as a preteen, was clear in her plans to move to Israel. “She told us that the moment she can, ‘I will move to Israel and join the IDF. I will never live in Denmark!’” 

This prophetic pronouncement came before the tragic, life-altering day of February 15, 2015, when she was celebrating her bat mitzvah.

A Denmark bat mitzvah tragedy: Violent antisemitism

During Hannah’s bat mitzvah, which had been postponed and rescheduled due to her maternal grandmother’s death, a terrible community tragedy took place. Dan Uzan, 37, a beloved Danish Jewish security guard, was shot and killed outside the synagogue by a terrorist. Two Danish Security and Intelligence Service police officers were also wounded in the attack. “I think I understood it was something that would change our lives forever,” recounts Metti, teary-eyed. The attack and a series of additional antisemitic events in Denmark were transformative for the family.

Metti recounts that nine months after the attack at the synagogue, a 15-year-old Danish girl, who had become radicalized by a Muslim friend, was arrested for a plot to bomb a school. “Maybe it is time to take off Jewish symbols,” Metti thought. Hannah and Jacob told their mother, “It is never going to happen.”

Within a short period, Jacob, who usually tucked in his Jewish star when walking late at night in Denmark, was attacked and beaten up. One month later, Hannah’s Israel necklace was torn from her neck, and she experienced antisemitic taunts (including seeing swastikas and hearing chants of “Free Palestine”) at school. 

When the Halle Synagogue in Germany experienced a shooting on Yom Kippur on October 9, 2019, Metti was deeply worried and said, “That’s it. We can’t stay here! I feel pushed out.” She notes that the idea of leaving Denmark, their home, was not joyous.

Jacob, who had recently completed a carpentry apprenticeship, started considering serving in the IDF. He even considered the possibility of serving with Hannah but realized it would be difficult with his family being so far away. As the family was exploring options, Metti was pleased to learn that Heidrick & Struggles, the executive search and management consulting company headquartered in Chicago, which she had been working with for eight years, was opening an office in Tel Aviv. “‘This is your chance,’ my boss said.” She then broke the news to her children, who were delighted.

As the Bentows approach the second anniversary of their aliyah, they are honest about the successes and the challenges. “It is important to not do it for one reason only – you need a multitude of reasons to make aliyah, as there will be hard days,” says Metti. While Metti moved to Israel and continued working for the American company as executive assistant and office manager, Matisyahu has had a more difficult time finding employment. Despite having a bachelor’s and a master’s degrees and experience in the mental health field, degrees and certifications are different in Israel; he is currently working as a security guard, as well as a caregiver to the elderly.

The Bentows came to Israel to return to the place that Metti had come to years earlier, to get away from European antisemitism, to offer their children the chance to contribute to their new country through service in the IDF, and for a better religious life. Matisyahu is happy that he and his family can “live life fully as Jews in a strong community.” He also notes that he can’t go back to Denmark now, as “pro-Palestinian forces have taken over public discourse, they tear down posters of hostages, and threaten Holocaust survivors.”

Metti describes their time in Israel as “an adventure” and encourages olim to adapt that approach. The Bentows are pleased with the extraordinary health care in Israel. They encourage olim to come with good Hebrew language skills and financial security and/or a decent-paying job. “You won’t make Danish wages. You will want to come with a job if you can and get out of the minimum wage trap!” advises Matisyahu. “Don’t come for material reasons.”

While the Bentows did not come for materials reasons, they admit it is wonderful to be able to go to a supermarket and “eat meat daily without it costing half of your salary.” That was not the case in Denmark.

The Bentows no longer live in Denmark, but they have many reminders of their former country. There is a community of Danish Jews in Ra’anana, and they regularly remember Dan Uzan, the beloved security guard from their old shul. There is a KKL Forest (Casuarina Circle) in Israel named in his memory, and the Bentows remain closely connected to the Uzan family.

When Jacob, 22, completed eight months of intensive training in the IDF’s Nahal Brigade in July, he received a special gift: Mordechai Uzan, the father of Dan Uzan, came to his tekes kumta (beret ceremony) and presented Jacob with his own army beret.

The Bentows will always be connected to their former home of Denmark and their beloved current home of Israel. ■

The Bentow Family From Denmark to Ra’anana, 2021

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Original Article is Posted at Jerusalem Post

The Jerusalem residents, who made aliyah in February, started making a dent in Cincinnati, Ohio. Now they’re trying to do the same in Israel.

When Nellie Neeman-Bochner and Glenn Bochner started dating, they already discussed how they would “make a dent” if they ended up getting married. 

The Jerusalem residents, who made aliyah in February, started doing so together in Cincinnati, Ohio, where they hosted a very welcoming minyan in their home for ten years, which Glenn reports “brought Clal Yisrael together.” 

The couple has increased the ways they are making a dent in Israel and the world since coming on aliyah nine months ago. And they couldn’t be happier – even as Israel faces the toughest times since Nellie’s father fought and was wounded in the 1948 War of Independence. 

Nellie has wanted to realize her dream of aliyah since spending her post-high school gap year in Israel. Her parents were not so crazy about the idea. “I’ve been yearning to come back ever since,” she says. 

“From the start, I was open to it,” she recalls. “We [Glenn and I] were clear that it was our life goal and said we would come in five to eight years. We let the minyan know that we were on track to make aliyah in five years. Baruch Hashem, we did.”

Baka neighborhood in Jerusalem (credit: MARC ISRAEL SELLEM/THE JERUSALEM POST)

The couple was very thoughtful and intentional in their planning. They knew they wanted to live in Jerusalem and spent between two weeks to five months staying in various apartments to get a sense of certain neighborhoods. “We tried different neighborhoods – Sha’arei Hessed, Talpiot, and we are now in Mekor Haim. We are moving to Baka next week,” Glenn notes. “We hope it will be our last,” Nellie offers. 

Both agree that each neighborhood has been great and it is difficult to choose, noting that it is an honor and a privilege to be in the holiest city in the world.

Making a dent in Israel

THE BOCHNERS started making their own dent during those visits to the country. Glenn describes their love of “hiking, exploring nature, and driving around the country.” On one trip near the Dead Sea, they were walking in a pine grove and discovered “an unbelievable amount of garbage in piles – like a garbage dump.” They began bagging the garbage and have returned four or five times together and with friends to continue the clean-up operation.

Their trips around the country have an additional benefit for Nellie’s work. The Manhattan-born speech and language therapist, turned thriller and romance writer, and Anglo writers’ group leader (Facebook group, Booklovers of Israel) is the author of the Jon Steadman thriller series. She is working on her fifth thriller, Immortal, which follows Spree, Resurrection, Vengeance, and Duplicity. Nellie’s website, nellieneeman.com, provides more information on her thriller books.

Her books often feature Israel as a backdrop, and one of the main characters, Dr. Terry Lavi, is a geneticist at the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology. “I also have a hidden agenda – it is very important for me to show Israel and Jewish people in a positive light through stories. I hope I am succeeding,” she says. 

Nellie published her fourth romantic comedy, Soaring Hearts, which she wrote under the pen name Ellie Hartwood as she does for her Clean Romance books. In addition, she has published eight novellas.

In her spare time, she works with Glenn as a shadchanit through the SawYouAtSinai matchmaking site. “I have been making shidduchim since I was a kid! The first match I made have been married for 34 years.” She praises Glenn for being “good at mentoring singles and speaking about challenges. We are a good team.” While technically, payment is expected by Jewish law, she notes, “We do it for the mitzvah.”

The Bochners regularly open their homes to various cohorts of singles for Shabbat meals. “We pick a target [age group] – 20s to 60s – and invite numerous people who we think will go well together.” Glenn generally poses a question and facilitates a structured conversation. “We try to keep it relaxed,” he notes.

Glenn, who grew up in Albany, New York, and attended the Georgia Institute of Technology, is a mechanical engineer by training and recently retired after 38 years at Procter & Gamble as an engineering manager and “in-house entrepreneur.” He initially thought it might be possible to continue his Procter & Gamble work full time from Israel, but then realized it was not feasible.

“We both realized that being here and living with these holy people is our priority,” he explains. He is currently developing other businesses.

Glenn often explains to friends that he couldn’t be happier with what he describes as the “rhythm of the day,” which “starts with holiness and purposefulness.” He elaborates, “I go to a beautiful minyan, then daf yomi, have some time with my wife, then by mid-afternoon, after I catch up and relax, I work.” 

He feels fortunate to have made aliyah when he did. The current situation has provided numerous volunteer opportunities. “There is an unbelievable level of volunteerism. People are tripping over each other to help out and say thank you.” He recently has been involved with Grilling for the IDF, which regularly serves barbecue dinners to soldiers. 

In addition, the Bochners joined a small group of volunteers who are managing Am Echad b’Lev Echad – One Nation, One Heart, an organization focused on “celebrating our commonalities and ways to love each other.” The couple says that donations to the organization help secure dri-fit shirts, which contain the inspiring message of pride and unity, for soldiers to wear under their uniforms and provide an opportunity “to unite the Jewish people behind our soldiers.” 

The Bochners feel fortunate that their aliyah has gone smoothly. Nellie is fluent in Hebrew, and Glenn continues to make progress and plans to take ulpan soon. “We anticipated the bureaucracy and we have been here many times, so we had a sense of what to anticipate. There have been no major surprises,” he says.

The biggest challenge? Being far away from their three children – aged 25 to 31, who live in Los Angeles, Chicago, and Boston – and from Nellie’s mother. They hope their children will come one day, noting that some are very Zionistic and are actively discussing aliyah.

The Bochners’ aliyah and the potential aliyah of their children are a tremendous tribute to Nellie’s father, who came from Romania and fought for Israel’s independence 75 years ago. They hope their story of Aliyah will help inspire others to make the leap as well.■

NELLIE NEEMAN-BOCHNER, 57, AND GLENN BOCHNER, 61 FROM CINCINNATI TO JERUSALEM, FEBRUARY 2023

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