To Be An Israeli: The Fourth Book in the All My Love, Detrick series

by Roberta Kagan

  “There ain’t much to know.”

  “I don’t believe that. Where do you live? Do you have a boyfriend? A husband?”

  “I got a boyfriend, and I got a little boy of my own.”

  “You have a child?” Janice asked, shocked that all these months she’d had no idea.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Who watches him?”

  “My mama. We need the money, so I have to go out and work.”

  Janice didn’t answer. She sat looking out the window for a moment then gazed down at Bari Lynn’s tiny contented face. “You only see your son on Sunday?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Janice nodded. Her eyes narrowed in thought, and she bit her lower lip. It didn’t seem right. Here she had so much, and this woman, her friend, had so little. “You must miss him all week. How old is he?”

  “He be two next month.”

  Janice drew in a sharp breath. For several moments, she was silent. She knew her father would never approve of what she was about to do, but that never stopped her before, and it wouldn’t stop her now.

  “Violet, why don’t you bring your son and your mother here to live with us? There is plenty of room downstairs.” It was true. The basement was fixed-up beautifully with brown and beige tile floors and blond wood-paneled walls. There were nice wool rugs on the floor, and the bathroom had just been redone a few months before hiring Violet.

  Violet shook her head. “No, ma’am, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I mean, I’d feel like we was imposing.”

  “You wouldn’t be. We have plenty of food and plenty of room. Why don’t you think about it?”

  “I will, ma’am, and I sure do appreciate the offer.”

  Janice had been watching the civil rights movement unfolding on the news. She had been made aware of how difficult life was for Black Americans. There was a lack of opportunities for good education, and without education, it was almost impossible to rise out of the ghetto. Janice had seen a speech by the civil rights leader Martin Luther King.

  When they were alone, Violet had told her about her admiration for King and his work. There were marches and protests on the news constantly, some against the Vietnam War, and others for civil rights or women’s rights. The world was changing. Janice felt that the change was necessary. She wanted to do her part, to do something with her life that would make a difference.

  When Janice told her mother that she’d asked Violet to bring her mother and son to live with them, Frances Lichtenstein was shocked.

  “Are you nuts? We can’t have another family moving in here. The last thing we need is another child and an old woman to take care of. Forget it, Janice.”

  “But don’t you think it’s hard on Violet never seeing her kid? Can you imagine what that must be like for her?”

  “Yes, maybe it is, but that doesn’t mean we have to support her whole family. Your father would go crazy if you told him you did this. Tell Violet that you made a mistake. We can’t have a house full of colored people.”

  “Mom, that is a sickening term you just used, black people don’t like to be called colored. Do you like to be called a kike or a dirty Jew? We’re Jews. For God’s sake, have some sympathy. The civil rights movement is not so different from the plight of the Jews.”

  “Janice, you were always a pain in the ass. First, it was Israel, and now it’s this. Why don’t you go to college and see if you can’t find a husband and settle down? You’ve done enough damage to your life as it is. You have a fatherless child which is a shanda for sure. I’m sick when I have to face the neighbors and explain what you’ve done. I go to the beauty shop, and all the women from the neighborhood ask questions. I tell them you were married to an American, who was killed in Vietnam. They say, ‘Wasn’t she in Israel?’ I tell them yes, but her husband had family there.

  The stories I have to make up to try and save us from the shame you’ve brought upon us all. Who knows what everyone is thinking? I know that, for sure, they are talking…and what they are saying isn’t good. You have a reputation to live down, let me tell you. And now you want to get involved in civil rights? Janice? Why don’t you just try to find a nice Jewish boy with a good profession, and then if by the grace of God he accepts you with a baby, kiss the ground he walks on.”

  Janice glared at her mother. “Times are changing, Mom. It’s not like it used to be when a woman was defined by her husband. I will go back to school, not to find a husband but to find my own way in this world. I’ll have a career of my own. I don’t want to be like you, waiting for Daddy, to give you an allowance. I want my own money. I want to make my own decisions. And if I want to be a part of the civil rights movement, then by God, I will. But don’t you worry. I won’t bring any more shame into your house. As soon as I can find a job, I’m going to move out of here.” Janice flipped her long, flaming-red hair back over her shoulder and walked out of the room.

  Later that afternoon, Janice was giving Bari a bottle, and Violet was ironing. This was their daily quiet time, the time when the baby would drift off to sleep while she was feeding, and the two women were able to chat. No one else was in the house.

  “I’m sorry, Violet. You were right.”

  “About what?”

  “My parents. I don’t know how to say this, but you can’t move your mother and son here. This is their house, and they won’t allow it. I feel terrible.”

  “Don’t feel bad. I expected it. Why should they support my family? It’s not their responsibility.”

  “Yeah, I know…”

  “It’s all right. I’m glad to have this job. It pays well and…”

  Janice put her hand up. “Don’t say any more. I just wish I could do something…”

  Janice was upset at her own weakness, but she couldn’t leave. She didn’t have any money of her own. She had no skills, no job, nothing. She was stuck for now, living under her parents’ rules, and that really made her angry.

  However, she did sign up for more classes at the University. If she planned to make a difference in the world, she would need an education to get a decent job and get out of her parents’ house.

  CHAPTER 49

  The first time Janice attended a civil rights protest march, it was early March of 1968. Because she had gotten to know Violet over the past month, and Violet had become a good friend, Janice wanted to be a part of this movement toward equality.

  Her father was appalled as they watched the news. He couldn’t believe that violent uprisings had taken place on peaceful college campuses. Ronald Lichtenstein wanted the war in Vietnam to be over, and his wife agreed with anything he said. Although he gave lip service to believing that black Americans deserved equal rights, they weren’t about to step out of their comfortable lives to do anything about the situation.

  Janice was different. All of her life, she’d been fearless. Even when she was secretly afraid, she’d pushed forward against the fear until it dissipated. Her parents tried to use what they called her mistake in Israel to convince her to control herself, but Janice could not be stopped. When she believed something was right, she was willing to risk everything. And she was vocal about her beliefs.

  “You’re naïve,” her mother had told her. “You have enough trouble as it is, Janice. You have a fatherless child, and now you’re going to get involved in this?”

  “You never learn your lessons,” her father had said, his face red with frustration. “You’re going to get into trouble again.”

  But her inner strength which her parents and friends called stubbornness drove her forward, and she would not rest until she did what she believed to be the right thing.

  So after her economics class, Janice stood outside of the student union building holding her books. She would never admit it to anyone, but she felt uneasy and a little scared. Her heart pounded in her throat, and she wanted to run away. Violet was not with her. Only students from the Unive
rsity were there, and she didn’t know anyone. The quiet campus of Northwestern University in Evanston was filled with angry civil rights protesters.

  When Janice thought about Violet, guilt and shame came over her. Why was she, Janice, privileged to attend this beautiful school where she would be given the finest education while Violet had no opportunity to better her life? It was not fair, and Janice was a headstrong believer in fairness.

  Across the courtyard, she saw a group of men standing together wearing berets. Based on their clothing, she knew that they were not students. They were part of the deeply-feared Black Panthers group. With all of the words of caution her father had drilled into her, although she would never admit it, Janice was afraid. While watching the news one night, her father had mentioned how Mayor Daley said that the Black Panthers were a menace to the city, and he planned to get rid of them. Her father had agreed with the mayor. “These are dangerous people,” he’d said. What if he was right, and she was really in danger?

  Janice looked around her. Why should she be so fearful? She believed in this cause. That was why she was here. So she planted her size five feet on the ground and stood as tall as her four-foot-eleven frame would allow. Then she waited with the other protesters until a speaker got up onto the platform in the center of the courtyard.

  CHAPTER 50

  It was a cool day in early April. Janice had a bad cold, so she didn’t attend classes that day. Instead, she sat in the living room watching a game show on TV with a box of tissues next to her and a cup of hot tea. Bari Lynn was blissfully napping. Together, Janice and Violet had gotten Bari onto a regular schedule. At two months old, she was sleeping through the night and taking two short naps during the day.

  Violet was in the kitchen just a few feet away from the living room sweeping the tile floor when the program on the television was interrupted.

  “Martin Luther King, the civil rights leader, has been shot and killed…” The news anchor continued speaking, but Violet dropped the broom, and the next few words were drowned out by the sound of the wooden handle hitting the tile. Violet rushed into the living room. Janice stared at Violet with her mouth hanging open.

  Words were spoken on the television, but Janice did not comprehend them. The next thing she was aware of was a replay of the famous speech Martin Luther King had made. “I have a dream,” Dr. King said in the replay… And now he was dead.

  Janice saw the tears fall from Violet’s eyes. The old reel of Dr. King continued. Both women were silent. Violet remained standing with her fist in her mouth.

  “We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back.” Dr. King’s voice rang like a premonition through the airwaves.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone…” Violet whispered more to herself than to Janice.

  “Violet, I am so sorry. All I can say is I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say or do. I was going to tell you that I attended a civil rights meeting at school the other day.”

  Violet didn’t say a word, but her eyes grew wide as if she was suddenly aware that she was not alone in the room. It was as if she’d been awakened from a nightmare.

  “You should think about joining some demonstrations. It’s not fair how your people are treated.”

  Violet shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. More tears threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes.

  “Why are you so complacent? I mean, why don’t you want to fight?”

  Violet shrugged again. Her throat was closed, and she could not bring forth the words.

  “Are you afraid? Is that it?”

  Violet shrugged, shaking her head. “You don’t understand.You can’t understand,” her voice was barely a whisper.

  “What Dr. King said makes a lot of sense. You have to become an active part of this whole movement in order for it to happen.”

  Violet had reached her breaking point. Her eyes, filled with fire, turned to Janice. “I don’t want to talk about this, please. Stop now.”

  “No, we have to talk about it. Nobody else is home. Now, you have to listen to me—”

  “It’s easy for you to stand there and tell me what you think I should do. You be a pampered white girl. If you makes a mistake, it don’t mean nothin’. You got money, and you got education. I don’t got nobody to help me.

  But if I go out and start causin’ a ruckus, I’m gonna lose my job. Then I won’t have no money to feed my baby, and my mama’s too old to work. For you, this is all a game. For me, this ain’t no game. It’s my life. You have someplace to go back to. We is different, you and me…you sit there lookin’ at the TV, and you see a man died.

  But I see a dream died along with Dr. King, a dream that be my reason for livin’. A dream that maybe someday my people are gonna have the opportunities to make choices, to get educated and get good jobs. There’s things you don’t know nothin’ about, and you can’t know nothin’ about.”

  “Then, why don’t you tell me? How can I know if you don’t tell me?”

  “A few years back, my best girlfriend was goin’ around with this man. He was real involved with this here civil rights movement. He was a black man. He talked big stuff. Said he was gonna change things. We was all gonna change things. We was gonna be equals. Then he went with two white boys. They drove down to Mississippi where they was supposed to be doin’ some kinda civil rights work to help the southern blacks. You hear about it? You know what happened?”

  “No.” Janice shook her head, but her face had lost its color.

  “He didn’t come back. They kilt him, him and them two white boys, too. They lynched ’em, yep, they kilt them boys, all three of ’em. That’s what they do when black folks gets outta hand and gets too powerful. That’s how they puts ’em back in their place. When Dr. King was alive, I believed we might’ve had a chance, but now…well now, they done kilt him, too.”

  “It’s not over, Violet. Dr. King is dead, and it’s terrible. But didn’t you hear what he said just a few minutes ago in his speech? He would have wanted the civil rights movement to go on. You have to know that. You have to believe it. What about Jesse Jackson? He’s still here. He won’t let it die.”

  “You and me be so far apart. Our lives be so different. You can’t know what this means to the black folks. You can’t understand because you don’t live it.”

  “Is that what you think? Do you really believe that we’re different? Because if that’s what you believe—if you really think that the color of your skin makes you different from me, then you’re never going to be able to rise out of the life you are living. I want to help you. Let me help you. I’m a Jew. Do you have any idea what that means? Do you know what happened to the Jews under Hitler? And even before Hitler. Before Israel, the Jews were persecuted all over the world. My case is not so different from yours.” Janice couldn’t believe she still felt a certain love for Israel, even though it had broken her heart.

  Violet shook her head then her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, I just can’t be talkin’ to you about this right now.” Then she went downstairs to her room where she stayed until Janice’s parents returned home.

  CHAPTER 51

  Janice made friends in the art department at school. Her friends believed, as she did, that the world needed to change. The war in Vietnam must cease. People of all colors should have equal rights and women must be treated as equals.

  There was a group of radicals in the art department who Janice began to spend a lot of time with. There were three other women and two men. They attended rallies, love-ins, and peace-ins at Grant and Lincoln Parks. She’d seen and heard Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin of the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) speak. They’d talked about ending the war. She’d seen and heard Fred Hampton talk about equal rights. The world was ablaze with a new consciousness. Janice decided it was her responsibility to make a difference.

  The day after King was assassinated, the friendship between Violet and Janice becam
e strained, not because Janice chose for it to be that way, but because Violet avoided her. Violet got up earlier in the morning to do her ironing to evade Janice’s pressing and invasive talks. Janice was hurt, but she was busy. She’d grown close to Debbie, one of the girls in her group of friends, and they spent a great deal of time together. While Janice was out crusading, Violet took care of Bari.

  Janice believed in the causes she promoted, but being a part of the excitement also drew her in. At parties with her fellow students, Janice smoked marijuana, listened to folk music, and felt as if she’d finally found a place where she fit in. She practiced tantric yoga and became a vegetarian. Then she traded her traditional clothes for jeans and tie-dyed tee shirts.

  That summer, in the heat of August, a group of Janice’s friends planned to take a minibus to a protest that was to take place in front of the International Amphitheater. This was where the Democratic Convention was to be held. The protests were to get the attention of the candidates that would be attending. The artists in her class had painted a beautiful design of graffiti on the side of the little bus, which belonged to one of the boys in their crowd. It read, “LOVE AND PEACE” in neon colors and psychedelic patterns. They’d removed all of the seats so that they would be able to accommodate more people.

  This was to be a huge event. The president and all the potential democratic candidates were scheduled to attend. Mayor Daley of Chicago was a democrat, and it was a great honor for him to be hosting the convention in his city. Chicago was preparing in every way. The restaurants, the hotels, and the nightlife were all making preparations to provide services for the delegates that would be arriving.

  However, Daley was aware that there was great dissension in his city and was not going to allow the protesters to embarrass him. He was in control, always. This was the way he ran Chicago. Mayor Daley, also known as “The Boss,” refused all permits submitted for peaceful protests during the convention then imposed an 11:00 p.m. curfew.