A Lifetime of Firsts: A Grandmother’s Perspective

Last night was a first—the first time I ever attended the annual Independence Day award ceremony honoring soldiers for their exemplary service. My late mother often used a Yiddish expression: “az men lebt derlebt men”—if you live long enough, you experience everything.

Firsts begin early in life: the first infant smile, the first clear word, the first hesitant steps toward independence. Each milestone brings joy and wonder. Today, every precious moment is captured, shared instantly through WhatsApp, crossing borders and time zones to connect families no matter where they reside.

An unforgettable first for me was the birth of my eldest daughter in October 1962, in Bikur Cholim Hospital, Jerusalem. I remember the nurse placing the white flannel-wrapped infant in my arms, and as I gazed into her eyes, I exclaimed ecstatically: “A first-generation Jerusalemite!” She was not only our first child, but the first granddaughter, great-granddaughter, niece, cousin—the first family member, all living abroad, to be born in the heart of Israel.

Another first followed two years later, when our son was born in the same hospital. Holding him, I felt a profound hope: surely, in eighteen years, Israel would no longer need an army. Surely, peace would come, and military service would be obsolete.

Yet reality unfolded differently. I remember standing in the doorway of a neighbor’s apartment as the call-up for soldiers began before the Six-Day War. Sons and grandsons streamed into their grandparents’ home, seeking blessing before heading to their units. I clutched my own two-year-old son tightly, tears welling in my eyes, still clinging to the hope that by the time he turned eighteen, war would no longer be a necessity.

“A mentch tracht un gut lacht.” Man plans, and G-d laughs.

Now, nearly sixty-five years since our Aliya in 1960, I watch as my youngest son, his two sons, and many of my married grandsons serve in the army. The cycle continues.

Through the years, I have attended Golani, Paratroopers, and Givati beret ceremonies, marking the completion of basic training and the transition from recruit to soldier. Each ceremony is a reminder of the sacrifices made and the resilience of our people.

Beyond the military milestones, I have witnessed another kind of first, the beautiful first steps of marriage and family. I have seen grandchildren marry and build homes of their own, followed by the even greater joy of welcoming great-grandchildren. In my husband’s z’l, large Talmud Brachot, I inscribe each child’s birth with care and reverence. Every single one is a blessing.

Last night was another first. A grandson receiving an award for distinguished service at a ceremony in Ashkelon. Zvi, named for his great-grandfather, Rabbi Dov Zvi Heiman z’l, stood tall among his peers. As a reservist, he was not required to wear the iconic purple beret of the Givati Brigade. Instead, he wore a black kippa, preserving our family’s tradition while honoring his service.

Never, since our arrival in Israel, did I envision myself seated among proud spectators at an army ceremony for my grandson. And yet, there I was.

May all our soldiers be blessed with the strength to carry on. May they see an end to war, and live to witness a future where their children dwell in Israel, a land at peace, without the need for a fighting army.