Hannah Roggin
(Eizenstein)
Rabbi Zeev Wolf Roggin
(Rogosnitzky)
with her mother Hanna (standing R)
her sister Ester (sitting L)
June 1963, NJ, with her sister Ester (R)
נולדה בירושליים בשכונת אבן ישראל. אביה, הרב זאב רוגוזניצקי היה בנו של ראש ישיבת עץ חיים, הרב נחום רוגוזניצקי. אמה חנה היתה בתו של ר' אליהו מרדכי אייזנשטיין שהיה מזכיר מוסדות ועד היישוב היישן ואיש אמונו של הרב ישראל מסלנט
גם אביה וגם אימה היו נכדים של בני משפחת ריבלין שהיו תושבי היישוב היישן בירושליים מזה שבעה דורות, מאז עליית תלמידי הגר"א לארץ בשנת 1808 בהנהגת הלל ריבלין
בהיותה בת שש עברה עם הוריה ואחותה הגדולה לארצות הברית מאימת הגיוס לצבא הטורקי, שריחפה על אביה עוד מימי מלחמת העולם הראשונה
אביה שינה שם את שמו לרוגין והיה רב קהילה בעיר ניו לונדון שבמדינת קונקטיקט
את בית הספר היסודי הכללי שבו למדה זכרה תמיד בהערכה בשל האוירה הטובה והיחס הנאור של המורות, אם כי קשרים חברתיים קיימה רק עם בנות למשפחות יהודיות-חרדיות
לקראת בית הספר התיכון עברה משפחתה לברוקלין שבניו יורק כדי ליהנות מאפשרויות של חינוך יהודי. סיימה ב 1934 את למודיה בבית המדרש למורות בניו יורק בהנהלת הרב יוסף חיים לוקשטיין, שליד בית ספר רמ"ז
בשנת 1935 חזרה ארצה עם הוריה והתגוררה איתם בתל אביב
כעבור מספר שנים נישאה ליהושע טברסקי. זמן קצר אחרי כן חזרו הוריה לארה"ב, אחרי שאביה לא מצא כאן תעסוקה לפרנסתו וקיבל משרת רב בעיר בוסטון. שם גם כינס שאלות ותשובות שבהן עסק לספרו "מנחת זאב". אחרי פטירתו ב 1975 קבלה צפורה את אימה לביתה (ובית בעלה) וטפלה בה באהבה
החיים בתל אביב הקטנה של שנות ה 30 וה 40 נעמו לה מאוד, עם האיזון שהיה בהם אז בין אוירה יהודית לתחושה של חופש
שליטתה בשפות עברית ואנגלית באה לידי שימוש בעבודתה במשרדים שונים בתל אביב. האחרון ביניהם וזכור לטובה היה בארגון בני ברית, בלשכתו של המזכיר הכללי וסגן נשיא אקסקוטיבי, סופר וידיד מוערך, ד"ר יצחק אלפסי
אח"כ התמסרה לעבודתה כעקרת הבית
היתה טהורת לב, מכבדת ואוהבת כל אדם, אהובה על כל מכריה
זכתה לשיבה טובה ומכובדת, אף כי בשלש שנותיה האחרונות ידעה צער עמוק על פטירת בתה הבכורה שלויה ממחלת הסרטן. רבים נהנו לראותה צועדת לאיטה בשדרות רוטשילד, מדי יום עד יומה האחרון כמעט, מקרינה אצילות צנועה, בלווית בנה דוד
נפטרה ביום הולדתה אחרי מחלה קצרה
Nightingale singing
Jan 1973 Boston, with her mother
1976 Tel Aviv, with her mother Hanna
I shared with my mother Zipporah fouryears, filled with love that any two
people would be blessed to have
It still vibrates in the hearts of some who heard it then.
I don't remember the context, but he told a proverb about a nightingale and a crow that made a bet between them, who was the better singer.
"Let's wait here in the forest for the first animal to come by, and it will be the judge. Then, the winner will peck out an eye from the other."
Soon came a pig and it became the judge.
The nightingale began singing first.
A hush fell on the forest as all listened in awe to the pure heavenly singing.
Then the crow started.
To the pig's delight it blasted the forest with squawks and screeches that shook the trees. "There!, now I hear real singing!, Bravo!" shouted the pig.
The crow pecked out one of the nightingale's eyes.
And the nightingale stood there and cried.
Yoram's voice was trembling as he said that, sending shivers through our hearts.
Animals gathered in the forest and asked the nightingale
"Why are you weeping ? Isn't this what you agreed to ?"
"But the judge !" cried the nightingale, "Who is the judge ?!"
Zipporah was always loved by all her family members, friends and acquaintances.
They adored her sweet personality, her quiet dignity.
She started to gain some more recognition in our neighborhood when her mother came from Boston to live with us in Tel Aviv.
My grandmother Hannah, ill of health, alone after her husband's passing, came and shared our small three room apartment with my parents.
I was away for school most of the time, and soon after that I made my trip to America, where I ended up staying seven years, then another twenty years. My sister had been long married then and had her own family.
Bubby Hanna lived with my mother and my father five years till she passed away.
She gradually became an icon in the neighborhood. Sweet elderly woman standing in our open front balcony, watching the little affairs on our quiet street. My mother spared no effort to make life easier for her, as best she could.
A lady in the grocery store told me, during one of my week long visits which I made twice a year,
"Your mother is an extraordinary woman. Watching her taking care of her mother with such devotion is heart worming. She truly is a saint".
"Yes, I know" I replied. "I know that all the good things that have been happening to me are because of my mother's merits. I myself do not deserve such good fortune"
"Did you hear that ?" the woman said to the other neighbors in the store.
"A son talking like this about his mother ?"
They seemed moved. And I meant every word of it.
Zipporah's merits were not of the sorts that were trumpeted in wide circles.
But I, and others who could appreciate a nightingale's singing, knew what a pious, pure hearted, faithful, giving human being she was.
Not long before that I was traveling in areas around Washington, DC.
I drove alone in a rented car along "skyline drive" in the Blue Ridge Mountains of neighboring Virginia. It was late in the Fall. The winding road had a thin layer of snow. I had not owned a car yet in that part of the world. I had no knowledge of sane driving in such conditions. Even though I was driving at a low speed, at an approaching curve I stepped abruptly on the breaks and the car started skidding. My anxious efforts to stable the car were to no avail.
I am in the middle of the curve now and the car keeps sliding towards the railing that separates the road from the valley below.
The car hit the railing, then rolled over it.
"Imma !, imma !" I cried.
Now, I have seen and heard people in moments of stress and deadly danger yelling "Mother!", praying for her help.
That was different. My mind was filled with one thought only. Oh mother, how unbearably painful it will be for you after my death!.
I had no seat belt. Instead I pressed my hands against the roof of the car to keep myself from being thrown around and bumping my head. The car continued rolling down the creek. In my palms I felt the rocks making dents in the car roof. After two or three rolls the car stopped against some obstacle, or perhaps reached the bottom of the creek. I hastened to turn off the engine, climbed out of the car and up the creek to the road, as fast as I could. I did not have any injuries but minor scratches.
Other cars soon came and people said "Praise the Lord!" seeing me on my feet and the twisted car wreck far below.
There was not a shadow of a doubt in my mind that I was saved thanks to my mother, to spare her from agony.
Then, in another one week visit at home, my grandmother's health was worse. I was able to help my mother a little in her physical efforts to assist her mother. A couple of days later grandma suffered pain and we called an ambulance to take her to the hospital. She groaned and said "From here I should go to Mount Olives", where her husband Rabbi Ze'ev Roggin was buried, and she too had a place.
I was with my mother in the hospital when her mother passed away.
I was grateful that it happened during my short visit with my mother so I could comfort her a little.
I was confident it was another sure sign of the special connection between us.
with my sister Shali & her daughter Adi
with Shali & her children Adi, Ali
with great grandson Harel
1980's with my sister Shali
with great granddaughter Shalev
with great grandsons Elad & Ori
on her last Purim, 2009
