[Congressional Record Volume 145, Number 165 (Friday, November 19, 1999)]
[Senate]
[Pages S15148-S15149]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                    THE PASSING OF PAULINE ISRAELITE

 Mr. DODD. Mr. President, I rise today with profound sadness to 
discuss the passing from this life of a remarkable and beloved woman, 
Pauline Israelite of Norwich, Connecticut.
  On the day of Pauline's funeral at the Beth Jacob Synagogue in 
Norwich, some 1000 people arrived to pay their respects. Hundreds of 
them were required to stand throughout the service because there was 
not enough seating to accommodate all those in attendance. Rabbis, 
clergy, and other attendees all agreed that they could not recall a 
funeral service held in that particular house of worship that was ever 
attended by more individuals.
  Those of us privileged to know Pauline can well understand the 
outpouring of affection shown for her on that day. She was an 
extraordinary individual in so many ways: a devoted wife, a loving 
mother, a successful business owner, and not least, an extraordinarily 
generous and energetic community servant.
  For many years, Pauline owned and operated the Norwichtown Mall 
Bookstore. The true business of her life, however, was not running a 
business, but serving others. She was an active member of Beth Jacob 
Synagogue. She served as President of Beth Jacob Sisterhood, and as an 
active member of Hadassah and a Hands of Healing honoree. She was a 
volunteer for Hospice; a member of and volunteer for the William W. 
Backus Hospital Auxiliary; a volunteer for the Adult Probation 
Department; and an ombudsman for the Area Agency on Aging. She served 
as a member of the board of the Jewish Federation of Eastern 
Connecticut, and of the Norwich Chamber of Commerce. In addition, she 
volunteered for We Care in Delray Beach, Florida, and for the Literacy 
Volunteers of America.
  I first met Pauline more than a quarter of a century ago. Her 
husband,

[[Page S15149]]

Stanley, had just left a successful business career to become a member 
of my congressional staff. At Pauline's funeral, I was introduced as 
someone for whom Stanley worked. I hastened to correct that mis-
impression. It is I who work for Stanley, I said. And it was Stanley, I 
added, who worked for Pauline. Therefore, in a very real sense, I 
worked for Pauline.
  Indeed, so many of us worked, in a manner of speaking, for Pauline. I 
recall numerous times over the years when Stanley and I would wrestle 
with a tough problem about how to best help someone in need, or how to 
bring about some positive result for our community or our state. On 
those occasions, we would invariably arrive at the same conclusion: 
``Ask Pauline.'' Countless others no doubt uttered those same words 
over the years. And just as invariably, Pauline knew how to help. And 
those of us who worked with her--or, I should say again, for her--came 
to rely on her sound judgment, her instincts for doing the right thing, 
and her understanding of how to help others--concretely, discreetly, 
and in a spirit of generosity and understanding.
  Over the course of her rich and vibrant life, Pauline developed a 
deep love of books. She didn't just sell them. She read them, and read 
them with the same passion she brought to the other facets of her life. 
It is appropriate, therefore, that I close these remarks by referencing 
two passages that I believe capture much about Pauline, her family, and 
all those who mourn her unexpected passing, and who wish to celebrate 
the blessed achievement of her life.
  The first passage comes from Seamus Heaney's ``Clearances'', a poem 
about the death of a mother that evokes how her spirit survives in 
those left behind:

       In the last minutes he said more to her
       Almost than in all their life together.
       `You'll be in New Row on Monday night
       And I'll come up for you and you'll be glad
       When I walk in the door . . . Isn't that right?
       His head was bent down to her propped-up head.
       She could not hear but we were overjoyed.
       He called her good and girl. Then she was dead,
       The searching for a pulsebeat was abandoned
       And we all knew one thing by being there.
       The space we stood around had been emptied
       Into us to keep, it penetrated
       Clearances that suddenly stood open.
       High cries were felled and a pure change happened.

  The second passage is from ``Tuesdays with Morrie,'' a touching 
account of a beloved teacher's last months. It serves as a reminder 
that our death, like our lives, is part of a larger scheme composed by 
the hand of a Creator whose purposes may not always be apparent to us, 
especially in times of sorrow:

       ``I heard a nice little story the other day,'' Morrie says. 
     He closes his eyes for a moment and I wait.
       ``Okay. The story is about a little wave, bobbing along in 
     the ocean, having a grand old time. He's enjoying the wind 
     and the fresh air--until he notices the other waves in front 
     of him, crashing against the shore.
       `` `My God, this is terrible,' the wave says. `Look what's 
     going to happen to me!'
       ``Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, 
     looking grim, and it says to him, `Why do you look so sad?'
       ``The first wave says, `You don't understand! We're all 
     going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! 
     Isn't it terrible?'
       ``The second wave says, `No, you don't understand. You're 
     not a wave, you're part of the ocean.' ''
       I smile. Morrie closes his eyes again.
       ``Part of the ocean,'' he says, ``part of the ocean.'' I 
     watch him breathe, in and out, in and out.

  Mr. President, Pauline Israelite is survived by a large and loving 
family: Stanley, her husband of 53 years; her son Michael and his wife 
Donna; her son Jon; her daughter Abby and her husband Bill Dolliver; 
her daughter Mindy and her husband Bill Wilkie; several siblings; and 
six wonderful grandchildren. I extend to them all my deepest 
sympathies, and my profound gratitude for granting me and so many 
others the opportunity to know and love Pauline Israelite.

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