She's Headed for South Africa...And YOU Can Help Get Her There!

Have you ever met one of those “memorable people”? You know, they’re the ones who cross your path for a brief moment, but who leave an indelible imprint on your life?

I have.

I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Rachel. We met on our ORIGINS trip to Israel a couple years ago. Rachel loves the Lord and wants to serve Him with her life.

Photo credit: twr.org

She has an amazing opportunity to travel to South Africa with Trans World Radio (TWR) to work with their women's ministry, and she could use your support!

Rachel is an incredibly talented and likeable person. I’m excited to see what the Lord has planned for her in South Africa.

The following is a brief biography of Rachel and explains what she’ll be doing in South Africa. If you are able, please consider making a contribution to her fundraising campaign by clicking on this link.

Rachel is an incredibly talented and likeable person. I’m excited to see what the Lord has planned for her in South Africa.

Rachel grew up in Erial, New Jersey with three brothers, managing to survive as the only girl. She first learned about TWR during her freshman year at John Brown University but it wasn’t until her junior year that she applied to be an intern the following summer. When summer came, Rachel served as a journalism intern with TWR Americas in Cary, North Carolina. As the summer came to a close, Rachel discovered that she didn’t want to leave and filled out an application her senior year of college.

Rachel is now planning on moving to South Africa to work as the Project Hannah Africa Regional Coordinator Assistant where she will aid in mentoring, coordinating the monthly prayer calendar, visiting and encouraging teams in Africa, advocating for the plight of women, praying daily, updating the PH Africa website, researching on issues facing women in Africa, writing reports and articles as well as editing and proofreading PH publications.

Her whole life nothing has ever gone quite as she planned and Rachel has taken on the motto “Always expect the unexpected.” In her spare time, Rachel enjoys laughing, movies, singing, theater and never turning down a good meal, especially if there are cookies.

This video tells a little more about my friend, Rachel.    

        

For more information, you can contact Rachel at  rpearson@twr.org.

My Favorite Marine

As the biting winter wind hurls the falling snow across the fields outside, there is nothing but warmth inside the little house that overlooks the village below. The ticking of an old clock, the purring of a contented cat, and the familiar smell of homemade soup fill the living room.

It’s another world inside the Esau home. Books—old books—line the shelves by the fireplace. Handmade quilts are thrown over the backs of plush chairs. Letters from around the country lie open on the end table, awaiting the thoughtful reply they always receive. It is in the midst of this homey setting that the jovial chuckle of the town’s patriarch, Jack, drowns out the howl of the wind outside.

This was a typical winter afternoon at the home of Jack Esau, my favorite Marine.

I first met Jack when I was a little boy. Each week, Mom and I would make our trip to Erla’s grocery store, where Jack would lean over the deli counter to hand me one of Erla’s famous hotdogs—a snack to tide me over until the shopping was done.

When I was an elementary student, Jack was one of the local VFW members who would demonstrate to our class the proper way to fold and care for the American flag. I can still see the 80 year old WWII veteran folding Old Glory, a gymnasium filled with 8-year-olds sitting at rapt attention, mesmerized by the depth of respect this man had for our country.

As a young man, I developed a friendship with Jack. He was the teacher, I was the pupil. On afternoons like the one I described, we would sit in the living room of the home he built back in 1948, as he regaled me with tales of Cass City’s past. He would sit back in his chair, one leg draped over the other, one hand engaged in telling an animated story, the other gently petting a snoozing cat.

To me, Jack embodied all his generation – the greatest generation—was known for: strength of character; a good work ethic; devotion to family; loyalty to community and country. He was a man who had a story for everything, and shared it with anyone willing to listen.

In 1940, Jack enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps. By that time, World War Two was a reality for most of the world, with the exception of the United States who would be forced to enter it a year later, following the attack on Pearl Harbor. He was on active duty in the South Pacific, where he saw active duty at Guam and Guadalcanal.

One of the gifts I received when he passed away is also one of my greatest earthly treasures—a scrapbook full of black and white snapshots from his time in the South Pacific. The photos are of a tall 23-year-old with a full head of hair and the broad smile that won him friends his entire life.

As a 23-year-old myself, it is a strange feeling to look at these photographs from the war that made so many American boys into men. Although Jack was an enlisted man, he and many others like him left all they ever knew, charging ahead into an unknown future against an enemy they had never met before.

I remember bits and pieces of many of the tales Jack told me about that period in his life. He remembered exactly where he was on April 12, 1945, the day President Franklin D. Roosevelt died. During the 2008 election, when John McCain and Barack Obama faced off for the White House, Jack told me about the time he sat next to McCain’s father on a train ride during the War. Of course, Jack remembered the conversation clearly after more than 60 years had passed.

 In 1946, Jack was honorably discharged from the Marines and returned to his beloved hometown, where he married his wife, Ruth, two years later. The couple would be blessed with three children in the ensuing years.

From the time Jack returned to Cass City, he was an active and integral member of the community. He served on the Cass City School board; was a founding member of both the Cass City Historical Society and the local VFW post; and was the authority on the history of Cass City and the surrounding area.

I learned a lot from Jack. By the time we became friends, he was not as active in the community as he once was; but the care he had for the town he loved continued on, and serves as an example to me of how a person should take an active role in the civic life of their community.

In October 2011, Jack passed away at the age of 93. To say that I miss him would be an understatement. His passing left a void in my life and the life of our community. Even now, three years after his death, I still find myself saying, “I wish I could ask Jack about…” But I am thankful for the friendship we had, and the stories he shared.

Besides thanking a veteran for their service to our nation, maybe one of the greatest things we can do on Veterans Day is to tell the stories of the veterans in our lives who have passed on. It is, after all, the memory of their willingness to sacrifice that compels us to continue defending the land of the free.

Happy Veterans Day, Jack. Thank you for your friendship and your example.

A Jewish Girl from Hackensack

My blog posts are not usually as long as this one. I thought that this story, however, merited a few extra lines. I think you, too, will enjoy reading her story.

With the sun casting its final rays of day on the Las Vegas skyline behind her, Rhoda sits at her dining room table reminiscing about her eclectic life of 91 years. I first met Rhoda a couple of months ago at a get-together, where she mentioned that she was the originator of the famed magazine Seventeen.

Rhoda--1940s

What I knew of her story intrigued me, so I asked for an interview, which she kindly granted. The following is the story of Rhoda—a remarkable woman with an equally remarkable and distinctly American life.

The daughter of a Jewish immigrant father and an American mother, Rhoda Friedman was born and raised in Hackensack, New Jersey. Life in a small town was idyllic for her.

It was in 1939, however, that as a 15-year-old senior at Hackensack High School, tragedy struck her happy life. An explosion occurred at the local tire factory, where two men were killed, and her father was among the injured. “My father was in a coma for nearly 5 months. Then I realized that he invested his money, but had very little savings. So, we had to turn our beautiful house into a two-family house. My mother had to sell all the things the pawn shop would buy.

“In the meantime, I was going to go to Wellesley [College]. We could never afford to go to Wellesley. This is the beginning of my life. I finally realized that I had to be an important part of the family.”

This realization took her to the guidance counselor at Hackensack High School, Ms. Bennet. “I said, ‘Ms. Bennet, what do I do?’ She said, ‘We’ll get you a scholarship.’”

At that time, The Woman’s Club of New Jersey was looking for a female student to send to New York University. Ms. Bennet told her that the organization “would like someone to go to their school of business or the school of retailing…to a school a woman could find a career in”.

Rhoda remembers vividly the day she arrived to be interviewed by the Woman’s Club board and assembly. Upon her arrival, she found herself among several other girls. She would later find out that many of these girls were from prominent New Jersey families. Rhoda had a secret weapon, though: style.

“I was very crafty, so I made myself a very nice hat from the form of my mother’s hat, and added a brim, and a nice bow on it to match a black outfit I had that I wore to [synagogue] services. One of my friends loaned me a handkerchief, and one of my friends loaned me a handbag, and everyone wished me well.” As she walked into the interview room, the ladies present turned their eyes to the stylish young woman from Hackensack. 

“Where did you get that hat?” asked one of the interviewers.

“I made my hat,” came the reply.

“Don’t you buy hats?” another asked.

“I can’t afford to buy hats,” Rhoda replied.

She explained that she was in a unique situation for someone seeking a scholarship to the prestigious NYU. “I’m here because I need you; and maybe you’ll need me.” Impressed and a bit taken aback by the confidence and directness of the young woman, the ladies invited her to lunch, saw to it that she arrived safely home, and the interview day was over.

Two days later, Rhoda was paged to Ms. Bennet’s office. “Come right into my office, Rhoda!” she said, feigning displeasure. Then, with a wide grin, she spread her arms for a hug as she said, “You’re in!”

Rhoda’s entrance into New York University was a triumph, but her time there required hard work. She made money by working in her dormitory as a student matron, grading papers for professors, and other means. The college freshman also had an early taste of anti-Semitism at her new school.

Rhoda and her roommate became fast friends, but her roommate’s father, the president of a large railroad company, was not convinced sharing a room with a Jewish girl was a good idea. “[Her parents] came into my room and interviewed me—now that was being interviewed!” she said. “The only people they had seen were the so-called ‘people with the horns’,” she said, referring to the oft repeated claim that Jews were demons in human flesh. Thankfully, their Jewish phobia soon melted away, and Rhoda became a friend.

In 1943, at the age of 19, Rhoda Friedman graduated and was awarded The Alumni Key, the honor bestowed upon the student with the best grades. She soon found out that her abilities and her mind were in high demand. “I was invited to the chancellor’s house for lunch. At the lunch is the brightest student from med school, the brightest student from law school, the brightest student from education—you name the school, they picked the most outstanding student from there,” she said.

A.I Namm & Son

At the meeting were the “big whigs” from the university, businesses, and other sectors of society. “And then, out of the blue, is this big man with a stunning woman, who owned a store in Brooklyn. I had never been to Brooklyn!” she said. “And he owned a big department store I had never heard of. And they bid on you, and the money they bid went to the university!”

The “big man” was the owner of A.I Namm & Son Department Store, and he won the “intellectual auction”, beating out Hearn’s, Gimbels, and other big name department stores. He then offered Rhoda a sizable salary, one she couldn’t refuse; and Rhoda Friedman became the newest member of the Namms Department Store empire.

In the meantime, New York Mayor Fiorella H. La Guardia came calling. “Rhoda, I need you,” he said. “You got spirit, you got looks. I want you. Do you have nice warm clothes? You’re going riding in an open car with me. We’ll go to Brooklyn, go to the Bronx. We’re going to rallies for the men in service.” Mayor La Guardia took the wide-eyed 19-year-old to factories where she would give speeches—sales pitches for war bonds.

New York Mayor La Guardia

“I worked for Mayor La Guardia for about two years,” she said. “Then I get a call from Bert Nevins, and he sounds like La Guardia. I said, “Mayor, are you trying to pull something? What do you want from me now?” After assuring her it was not the former Mayor of New York, but Bert Nevins, one of the country’s publicity and marketing geniuses, he arranged to meet Rhoda at The Plaza Hotel.

“In walks a pudgy, little guy smoking a cigar. He says, ‘You’re hired.’” Unaware of what she had just been hired to do, Rhoda questioned him. Nevins wanted a woman who was aware of current Hollywood fashions and trends who could make the fashion industry known. Rhoda was introduced to major fashion, business, and other female contacts in her new position as Bert Nevins’ “new icon”.

On one fateful day, Nevins informed Rhoda they would be going to a very important meeting. “ It’s one of the biggest publishers in the world,” he said. “Behave yourself. Don’t come up with any big ideas. Just sit there. I’ve gotta figure out what it is they want.”

At 9 a.m. on the day of the meeting, Rhoda walked into the board room, briefcase in hand. Inside the case was a phone book, which she sat on to make her small frame look taller. The meeting soon began and the chairman informed those in attendance that they were all in trouble with their client.

Walter Annenberg

Soon, a tall man entered the room. Rhoda would later learn that his name was Walter Annenberg, and he was not a happy client. His publications, which were primarily concerned with the lives of movie stars, were not doing well.

“How are we going to increase circulation? How?” he asked angrily.

The 22-year-old raised her hand, defying her boss’ orders. “First of all, all your publication names are too much alike,” she said.

 “What?!” he snapped. 

“Secondly,” she continued, “I was reading in The New York Times last night--”

She was cut off by the angry voice of the publishing giant. “I don’t care who reads what in The New York Times!”

“Sir,please,” she said. “I was reading last night, and I found out in a small squib that Booth Harkington’s book, Seventeen, is public domain today; and I advise us to call the legal department and pick it up right now. You can take Stardust magazine or any other magazine you have, and turn it into a whole new world for people that are teenagers.”

“In my office!” he shouted at her.

Once inside the office, he calmed down. “Tell me about this idea you have,” he said.

“You know,” began Rhoda, “I’ve had an idea for a long time, and today it’s right.”

“Tell me how this should be developed,” the tycoon said. “We’ll meet, we’ll work it out. You just gave birth to a magazine.”

The year was 1944. A year or so after that, one of the country’s biggest manufacturers of clothes came to Rhoda with an offer she couldn’t refuse. She would have a radio show, and other resources available to her by which she would reach the American teenager.

Rhoda worked for the company, hosting “The Teen Timer’s Club” on The Bluet Network, while continuing to work with Walter Annenberg as a contractor.

You won’t find much when you Google Rhoda’s name. She was largely a behind-the-scenes component of the entities she worked for. “I sold ideas for money,” she said, referring to the fact that her name never appeared on the mastheads or histories of Seventeen.

Rhoda holds a recent edition of Seventeen, with the
Las Vegas skyline behind her

In 1947, Rhoda married her husband, Ray—a union that lasted until his death 65 years later. The couple had two daughters who are highly respected in their fields.

Today, Rhoda is an active nonagenarian. When she’s not walking her dog, attending Bible study, or helping around her synagogue, you can find her working with the Anti-Defamation League, serving on the properties committee of her community, or helping a friend in need.

“Each day,” she said, “I try to find something good to appreciate and look forward to.”