What If?
Edited and updated on the sixteenth anniversary of our leaving the Army.
To paraphrase Robert Frost’s poem The Road Not Taken (see below), two roads diverged in front of us in 1965. One offered financial and job security for the next 20 years and a good pension for the rest of our lives. Yet I knew it would comprise many obstacles, dangers and family distress.
The other road consisted of the unknown, of insecurities, risks, pitfalls and possible regrets.
If we had taken the first road, Howard, a Chaplain in the US Army, would not have resigned his commission in 1965. What would our lives have been like then?
First, he would have been assigned to Saigon, Vietnam, for at least one year. I would have agonized just as I did when he went to the Dominican Republic in 1963.
Chaplains were transported by helicopter to administer to soldiers wherever they were located. This was a dangerous situation. In fact, one chaplain was killed when his helicopter was shot down in Vietnam.
The clergy in the Army is not allowed to carry arms; they have to rely on their assistant for protection.
When Howard was in the Dominican Republic, his driver made a wrong turn, and they got caught in a crossfire. Michael, his protector, was a very big fellow, but even he could cover Howard only on one side. Luckily, no one was hurt, but this event had some consequences, including Howard’s fear of loud noises for a long time. I remember how he reacted to the 4th of July fireworks that year, jumping with fear each time they went off.
What an emotional toll it would take on our family. The fear for his safety would be overwhelming.
Our children and I would have been living off base for the year, probably in the New York area. I would have been tormented, fearing for his well-being, his life and wondering if or how this experience would affect our family life. Our very young children might have been estranged from their dad.
After that year, all of us would be reassigned to the States for a few years, being relocated every two or three years. This would mean that our offspring would need to frequently adapt to a new school, new teachers and new friends. And, what about their Jewish education?
Although the Army would provide us with movers and housing, we would have to pack, set up house again and again. We would need to make new friends, get to know where to shop and how to get around in a new environment.
Then it would have been the compulsory year in Korea.
I just could not imagine how I could possibly deal with these long separations.
Taking for granted that Howard would have come home safely from both assignments, he would have retired in 1978, after 20 years of service. What could he have done then? True, we would have a nice pension for life, but what would he be doing for the rest of his life? Would he have been able to take a civilian pulpit? Would he have been able to start a new career in Jewish education at the age of 48? How about his dream of getting a PhD? Furthermore, how would these tours of duty away from home have affected his personality?
How would our children be affected by Army life? Would they have turned out as well as they have? Would they have been able to maintain our Orthodox lifestyle after being in totally secular environments during their growing-up years? How would I have been able to be a single mom during these year-long separations?
Of course, there will never be an answer to any of these questions, and I did not think of all the possible consequences at the time.
This new road was opened to us with a phone call. One Sunday afternoon, when we were living in Fort Bragg, someone called asking for Rabbi Graber. I was intrigued as he was called Chaplain, not Rabbi. After hanging up, Howard told me that it was the president of a small Jewish community in Council Bluffs, Iowa. They needed a rabbi, and the caller had somehow heard about Howard. He wanted to know if Howard was interested and would come for an interview.
To me, it was a sign. My gut told me this was what we needed to do. I urged Howard to go to Iowa just to get a feeling for the position. For me, this was a new road opening, one we needed to investigate. It was a new path that we should not ignore.
Howard went to Iowa and then to a couple of other small towns that needed a spiritual leader. He had several offers, but he accepted the position in Ellwood City, Pennsylvania.
Later that summer, Howard handed in his resignation against very strong advice from family, friends, colleagues and superiors. A new life started for all of us.
Looking back on the last 60 years of civilian life, I am happy to affirm that we took the right road. Howard had a very successful career as a rabbi and educator. Our children were educated in Jewish schools and follow our way of life. They are married, have children and grandchildren.
I was able to go back to school, get a master’s degree, taught for 26 years, then had a career as a speaker, writer and Jewish community organizer.
Looking back, there are no regrets.
The Road Not Taken
BY Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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Read more by Felicia Graber.