Eulogy for Roslyn Harris
by Rabbi Lisa Hochberg-Miller
1/13/06 Eulogy for Roslyn Harris 1/13/06

If one moves through life with one’s eyes open, truly open, one can find many sacred events in life. You might wonder, what is the rabbi speaking of at a moment like this, as we gather to bury a beloved mother, a dear friend, an intellectually vivacious woman, who just three weeks ago is given a diagnosis of advanced pancreatic cancer. What kind of sacredness is there in that? And yet, I believe that the Harris family has had many sacred moments in the last weeks and days, moments of emotion and meaning that will sustain them into the future. There is a beautiful line from Ashet Chayil, the Woman of Valor praised in psalms, that translates: her children rise up to praise her. Roz Harris spent the last weeks of her life surrounded by her children, 6 of her sons and daughters sat at her bedside, slept in her room, sang songs to her, fed her, caressed the softness of her hand, wept with her, held the phone to her ear so she might hear the voices of grandchildren and family members; it seems to me that indeed, coming together as a family, as siblings, to walk through the valley of the shadow of death with a beloved woman, is about as sacred an act as there might be. And indeed, by their very presence, Roz’s children were praising their mom. So on this day, we extend condolences to Jeffrie, Riesa and Ann, here with us today, and Roz’s sons who join us here today: Tom, Joel and Jon. May you find comfort in knowing that on this day we place her side-by-side with Ted, your father, who pre-deceased your mom some thirty years ago.

 In many ways, Roz was just a bit unusual for her time, standing out from the norm. Unusual in the choice to have seven children. Unusual in raising a family of this size while working full time. Unusual in her choice of profession, as a psychiatric social worker. Unusual in her choice of work, as a parole officer with the California Youth Authority. Unusual in the reality that she often functioned as a single-parent, as Ted’s import-export business frequently took him out of town. Unusual in the choice to pick up children and move abroad and raise children overseas, even in Africa. In all these ways, though, Roz’s children saw their mom as stable, solid, and competent. Their childhood years they remember with fondness and matter-of-fact: the truth is that they all took care of each other; an 11-year span of age, often it was Jeffrie and Riesa following mom’s instructions on what to make for dinner. Older siblings helped younger with homework. Everyone had a chore on the rotating, weekly chore list. Even with Roz’s planning, her kids will tell you that those years were about mayhem and chaos, but they had fun together, and loved the closeness of family. Roz was the serious one, Ted was the one with the sense of humor, who would crack everyone up. So full were those years that Roz was remembered as being frazzled and constantly on the go; yet always competent and in charge of the whole family. Not much rattled Roz.

Roz was blessed with 20 years of wonderful retirement, taking the time to survey her own interests and the needs of the community about her, before choosing a very active retirement. Her passion for the daily news—she loved CNN!- for history, for travel found expression in her membership in Ventura County’s Archeological Society. She was a devoted member, attending regular meetings, and volunteering to work on the numerous projects in the county, from digging at Chumash graves in Ojai, to exploring the archeological remains on the Channel Islands. She traveled abroad to participate in archeological digs, in sites as diverse as Russia and Israel. Roz would sign herself up on digs organized through University Extension Programs and find herself the only senior adult on the dig with college students. No mind; she loved the experience, and eventually made friends from these digs, all over the world. To walk through her home is to see a shrine to the artwork and pottery of the many cultures with which Roz was fascinated. And she put her volunteer, retirement hours to good use more locally as well. She would give her time to Casa Pacifica; her children remember a time when she mentored a young boy for a number of years, through Casa, taking him to lunch, the movies, whatever, just to provide a special adult in his life. And she gave of herself to a homeless shelter locally too, sleeping nights in the downtown shelter to care for those who were overnight guests. Temple friends will tell you about her erstwhile participation in the Thursday noon time Torah discussion. It was here that she saw some of her oldest and dearest friends. Roz always welcomed the opportunity for intellectual growth. And in these retirement years, Roz traveled, such a love she had for seeing the world, meetings its people, observing cultures. Joel will tell you though, for her great love of other cultures, she could never master foreign languages, to her great frustration! At times she would travel with her mother, Sophie, who would come from Iowa and spend long stretches of time visiting in Ventura; often around Pesach time, says Reisa. Grandma Sophie was well-loved by her Harris grandchildren. Over time, with Sophie, with other companions, or simply by signing herself up on a tour, Roz would visit China, India, Australia, New Zealand, Israel, parts of Africa. Now in fairness, Reisa spent a good number of years in Australia, so there was a vested reason to visit. But Roz really loved to travel to broaden herself and her understanding of the world, and, as in all things, she was a competent and confident traveler.

In reflecting on their mother, each of Roz’s children had precious memories, and lessons learned. Ann says that as an adult she came to appreciate her mom’s boundaries, and the importance of boundaries. She also says that she finally learned to put things back where they belong, something Ann freely admits she did not master when growing up in the family household! Tom speaks of his mother’s insistence that her children be articulate, use good grammar, and enunciate when speaking. Riesa says that most of Roz’s children inherited her pension for flea markets and antiques. And Joel offered that, perhaps one of their mother’s greatest gifts was that they did not grow up under the weight of expectation of certain proscribed accomplishments. You were free to grow up to be whoever you wanted to be, to make the choices in your life that suited you; rather than having to make personal and professional choices that conformed to a parent’s expectation. Roz was accepting of each of them; never rejecting, never nagging or dosing out guilt, never interfering. She was glad to make suggestions, she was quick to point out their strengths. But she did not push them, only encouraged them.

It was only in their later adult years, perhaps once she was relieved of the daily stress of working, running a household and managing life, that Roz’s children will tell you they saw their mom soften up in a wonderful and well-received way. Now came the more open Roz, the mom who would say “I love you”, the mom who would talk about herself, move past barriers, and create friendships with her children. They treasured that adult relationship with Roz, and in many ways it served to increase their admiration and affection for their mother. This is the Roz that each of them will miss all the more. But in the last weeks they have each gained much. They have had the opportunity to shower their mom with attentive care. They have had blocks of time together as brothers and sisters, a rarity in our adult lives. Roz’s daughters and sons-in-law, grandchildren, have come together in strong family support, walking together through weeks that have included such highs as a Bar Mitzvah in Joel’s and Susan’s family, and such lows as the reality of hospice. At the end of Roz’s life, her family, her dear friends, so many of whom are here today and who have treasured her friendship, and we her temple community, are richer for having known her, for having traveled through life with Roz. For it is true, that to spend one’s life traveling, is really much greater than an accounting of the places stamped in one’s passport. It is about the people you meet and touch as you travel through life. One could be a great traveler on life’s road, without ever leaving home. For the lifelong friends who say farewell to a dear friend today, for her children and grandchildren, even great-grandchildren, we are left ultimately with thanks for having been a part of Roz’s long, and blessed life.

May her memory be for a blessing.
Zichrona livracha, Amen.