Morris and Harriet have successfully managed to accept changes in their lives, adjust accordingly to these changes, and do so with a positive outlook.
By ALAN ROSENBAUMTHE INKERS: HARRIET, 82, AND MORRIS, 90 FROM BROOKLYN TO JERUSALEM, 2017(photo credit: Courtesy)
Sitting in their cozy apartment in Jerusalem’s Tovei Ha’ir Residence, Morris and Harriet Inker can’t stop grinning from ear to ear. From their account, their smiles started when their Nefesh B’Nefesh flight landed almost two years ago and haven’t ceased since.According to Morris, whose physical appearance and mental outlook belie his 90 years, the couple’s positive state of mind can be traced to what Morris calls “the three A’s — Acceptance, Adjustment and Attitude.” Morris and Harriet have successfully managed to accept changes in their lives, adjust accordingly to these changes, and do so with a positive outlook.Morris was born in 1928 in New York’s Lower East Side and grew up in the Bronx and Brooklyn. His family, like most, was impacted by the Depression. “The Depression was very hard,” he says, “and the song, ‘Brother, can you spare a dime’ was very true.” Morris was interested in radio and studied radio mechanics in trade school. He attended Hebrew school until his bar mitzvah, and in 1948 began working as a linotype operator and composer for the Jewish Press. He worked as a typesetter for various newspapers, including The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal.In 1951, in the midst of the Korean War, Morris received his draft notice, and was inducted into the US Army. He spent 16 weeks in basic training in California and was sent for another eight weeks to Georgia, where he was assigned to signal corps school, due to his background in radio. Instead of being sent to Korea, he and several others were sent to Germany to build a signal corps depot.Morris took the overseas deployment in stride. “For me, it was an amazing thing. I not only survived the army, but I excelled.”In addition to his military duties, Inker also served as a chaplain’s assistant. The soldiers sailed for Germany after Rosh Hashanah, and during Yom Kippur services on the ship, “we had a Protestant chaplain who wanted to do something.” Morris laughs and says, “I said to him, ‘Talk about Jonah.’”Inker was stationed in Pirmasens, Germany near the French border. When his army hitch was coming to a close in 1953, Inker asked for and received permission to visit Israel before returning to the States. He flew to Naples, and then sailed to Haifa on the Zim Lines ship Negba.Inker relates that first deck was comprised of regular passengers, the second deck housed refugees from Europe, and the bottom of the ship contained tanks that were being sent to Israel. Inker, who was allowed to wear his US army khakis, was met by a representative of the Joint Distribution Committee, who drove him throughout the country.He visited Beersheba, and spent a week on a kibbutz and a week in Jerusalem. Jerusalem’s Old City was then part of Jordan, and Inker went to the top of the YMCA to view the Kotel. Inker saw tent cities, streets being paved in Tel Aviv, and Jews and Arabs working together.Returning to the US, Inker resumed typesetting at the Jewish Press, completed his apprenticeship, and went to printing school. In 1960, he met Harriet Bryk, who had grown up on the Lower East Side, at a synagogue dance — “Shhh”, he says with a twinkle in his eye — and two years later they were married.
By this time, the Jewish Press had grown, providing him with full-time employment. The newspaper, which had started out with four employees, now had more than 60 workers, and its own building and printing press.Harriet and Morris lived in Brooklyn and raised three children. Harriet became the associate bursar at Long Island University Brooklyn College of Pharmacy, a position that she held for 27 years.After working at the Jewish Press for 60 years, Inker retired at the age of 80, as computers had made typesetting obsolete. After his retirement, Morris spent much of his time in his ‘man-cave’, decorated with personalized newspaper front pages that he had created for friends and family, as well as a section on Israel and the Holocaust. “After I retired,” he says, “I was not a happy camper. I had to have some outlet, and this was it.”The Inkers’ youngest son made aliyah 18 years ago, and after their daughter followed suit three and a half years ago, Harriet realized they too needed to move. She says, “When my daughter made aliyah, we said what’s the point of staying? If we are going to do it, now is the time.” Six weeks later, the Inkers went on a pilot trip; one month later they sold their house – “in the middle of a snowstorm,” says Harriet – and just a few weeks later, they packed up and flew to their new home in Jerusalem.When they first arrived, they felt somewhat ill at ease. Says Harriet, “We saw the people in wheelchairs, and we said, ‘What are we doing here?’” Morris is quite fit, and walks at least 10,000 steps each day, with Harriet frequently accompanying him. But, she says, after being there just a few weeks, their opinion changed. “You don’t see the wheelchairs and the walkers, because now you know the people,” she says.The Inkers are always busy – exercising, meeting friends and attending classes, Morris says. On Friday nights, they frequently are up until 11 p.m., enjoying lively conversations with friends. Harriet shows me the daily schedule, which is packed with activities and classes. Morris recalls his 90th birthday party, which was celebrated in June with other residents whose birthdays were in that month. “There were 12 of them born in June, and I was the youngest!” he chucklesSays Harriet, “Every time he walks outside, he says, ‘The sky is blue.’” Morris adds, “The Shechina (Divine presence) is in Jerusalem – there’s no question about it. You feel differently here. You walk the streets and they speak Hebrew! It gives you the shivers.”The Inkers have 12 grandchildren and four great-grandchildren in the US.Their only regret is not seeing them frequently enough.When the Inkers made aliyah, Morris, then 88, prepared a photo book entitled Life Begins at 88 documenting their lives. For Morris and Harriet, their life has just begun.
