Our family made Aliyah in 2000 and went through a roller- coaster ride of experiences before we got settled.
We remember clearly that one of the few positives of settling in Israel was moving in next door to the Schoenfelds.
Beth (and Dan) were always there to offer help to us ‘New Olim,’ notwithstanding our mutual hassles with our kablan.
She was an exceptionally considerate and caring neighbour. We always felt that Beth had to be someone special for her family if she could be so thoughtful even when interacting with the neighbors.
We shall always harbour pleasant memories of her and will miss the odd friendly chat.
Our thoughts are with Dan, the children and her family and we wish them all the strength and courage needed for life in the future.

Beth,

Words cannot adequately describe the impact you had on my life or the profound sense of loss knowing you won't be here to experience the milestones still to come. There is a lifetime of memories, of course--too many to describe here. Suffice it to say, you were the ideal big sister: teacher, advisor, mentor, comforter, friend. No one should have to live without their big sis. Here we are, young and healthy, me learning something from you. This is how I will always remember you.

Love,

Arlene

In knowing the Schoenfeld family, we have always observed the love that flows so generously to, from and amongst them: care & consideration, laughter & lightness, the lack of pretention and warm welcome for all who moved in their midst. This made sense given what we’ve always known about Beth & Dan for years, but there was still something wonderfully mysterious about their clan –How did it come together with so much love and fun

We got some insight when we (finally) visited the Schonefeld’s in Ra’anana last summer. Entering Beth & Dan’s home, we were struck by all the ways in which they've put their family at the center of their lives. There were kipah (kipot?) and candles at hand for Shabat dinner, as were the board games to be played the next afternoon. The kids' artwork and school projects were on the walls and the refrigerator. The family computer – seemingly perpetually logged into Skype – is front and center. The informality and liveliness is immediately felt. Their home is a safe place where everyone can be themselves, where the ‘you’ in you is celebrated.

Being cooks (and somewhat food obsessed), we couldn’t help but poke around Beth’s kitchen. It has a truly lived-in feel - drawers and shelves are packed with special gadgets, pots and pans – seemingly redundant to a casual observer, but clearly cherished because they are just what one needs for a favorite recipe for a family member. At the center of it all, there is a table for prepping and chopping, doing homework, or grabbing a quick bite to eat or a quick chat. On a corner shelf, there is a host of cookbooks, arrayed in a jumble that shows they were consulted frequently. Along side the sauce and food stains, on some clearly well-used pages were Beth's scribbled notes – modifications to favorite recipes, notes to herself, notes for each in her family.

Beth loved her family in so many ways. We saw it in the joy she had watching her kids at play on their visits to the States or when they shared news from a visit with their friends closer to home. We saw it in her pride in their uniqueness as well as their accomplishments. And we saw her love in her kitchen – the way she celebrated her family through her food.

It won’t be easy to re-create all of Beth's recipes, but we hope they follow the most important recipe she left behind – to love each person, generously and for the special flavor they bring to life.

Jerry & Wai
San Francisco

So I stopped by my mother's house and unearthed my journal from the summer of 1978, the summer I met Beth, the summer we went to Israel on Course Hadracha. Opening an old journal always leaves me both sweetly nostalgic and strangely mortified...I mean, who exactly was that kid and what was he so worked up about anyway? If only I could go back and tell that guy to lighten up a little...

There are several entries about Beth from that summer, mostly venting frustration that Beth and I weren't getting to talk (teenage code for some sort of marathon discussion about life, the universe, and when you were going to get your driver's license). Then there are other entries where we did get to talk but it wasn't the conversation I was hoping to have....cue the ominous music...our friendship was doomed. Doomed I tell you!

I guess when you're 15, sometimes a mammoth crush dare not speak its name aloud. It just gets compressed into melodramatic angst, a by-product so toxic that it's actually banned in Canada.

Later on there's a page in the journal (see attached scan ) that she wrote on the way back home as we changed planes in Paris. She was so upbeat, sweet, funny, easy-going. Of course, it had been an amazing summer. Of course we were going to be friends. I had nothing to worry about. And that was that.

She was mostly such a good sport about life. Even years later when uncouth middle-aged men would invade her home with booze and cards and crash on her sofa--she would just waltz past in the morning, arch her unfazed brow and say, "rough night, boys?"

I guess I never really shook that mammoth crush for Beth. It just kind of morphed into a crush on the whole Schoenfeld family. I loved seeing her happy. I loved seeing Dan happy. A gaggle of kids...She made it look easy. That's what I remember.
Shalom, Batya. Mamash todah al haKol.

I remember the Beth that we all remember, she of the beautiful but slightly shy smile, the subtle sense of humor, and the quiet devotion to her family.
But I also remember Beth the kibbutznik. Dan and Beth came to spend the year together on Kibbutz Ketura when they were newlyweds and Miriam and I fell in love with this charming young couple right off the bat. Beth worked in one of the children's houses and even then you could tell she was going to make an incredible mother. But she also had to do a night shift once every couple of weeks, and instead of serving dinner or doing laundry, she chose to learn how to milk the cows.
I worked in the refet at the time and was a bit concerned when she came for her first lesson. After all, this seemingly fragile girl from suburban Tuscon didn't seem at first glance to be perfectly suited to pushing around stinky beasts that weigh three-quarters of a ton. But she donned an apron, quietly listened as the whole process was explained to her, and then started milking as though she had been doing it her entire life. It took most people between three and five milkings to really learn how to do it correctly. Beth was an ace after only one and a half milkings. I don't think I've ever seen anyone learn as fast.
I usually looked like someone had hauled me out of a cess-pool at the end of a milking. Beth would spend the same four hours with me and the same 250 cows and barely even get her sweat-shirt dirty.
She was one of the sweetest, gentlest, kindest people I have ever known. If I close my eyes, I can still hear her laugh.

When I try to collect up my memories of Beth, it’s like taking a more-or-less continuous trip back through time. The trip runs in reverse through nearly two decades of watching each other’s kids grow from drooling infants into real people, comparing notes about how to survive a Bar or Bat-Mitzva, wondering out loud how we got from there to here. It pauses for a weekend at the beach in Ein Gedi, camping in little tents that could never hold the families we would soon have, but just right for what we had then.

There’s a blurry scene of a tennis match, playing doubles in San Diego, Dan & I coming within a point of beating her & Richard. Beth’s backhand was just too much… There’s a flurry of buses and hikes and dorm rooms in Jerusalem... And then we’re comparing notes about our kids again, except this time we’re their counselors, and camp will be over at the end of the summer. More buses, more hikes, more dorm rooms in Jerusalem, but this time everything is newer, fresher, more innocent. We’re still talking about the teepees in Wonder Valley and the nights in Fresno, and still singing about the Ring-con… Ran-gers… her alma mater, my rival.

We’re playing volleyball at Camp Tel Yehuda in New York, both proud to be from the southern pacific coast, even though neither of us lives near a coast. But California is our home away from home… there we are, holding hands in a big circle, singing that same song every night of camp. Playing gaga, going on that trip to Lake Arrowhead. Was it the summer of ’76, or ’75? It’s all running together now.

And then there’s a moment from an earlier time, maybe from a previous life. It’s on a JCC “Tween” trip from El Paso to Tucson, in an unforgettable place called Sabino Canyon. Unforgettable – though I surely would have forgotten it long ago, if it hadn’t been where I first met Beth.

All in all it’s an uneven mental recording, with plenty of gaps that could be filled in. But then again, there’s something strangely even about it. Every scene, whether it’s from 36 years ago or from just last winter, seems to have a smile attached to it. Of course, it’s not always the same smile – sometimes it’s a mild giggle, sometimes it’s a smirk and a sigh over the absurdity of the situation, sometimes it’s uncontrollable laughter, and sometimes it’s just Beth’s way of making you feel like things are OK.

* * *

Beth’s birthday, March 24, came eight days after mine. Our running joke was that she was born on my “bris”day (you’ll just have to take my word that there was a reason to crack up over this at the age of 13). Last March I gathered up some old “memories” and sent them to Beth in the hope that she’d get a chuckle, and they’re here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQUY3uKlPFk

One of my memories of Beth was of her cooking healthy, tasty meals from scratch using her Lucite cookbook holder! I loved that thing, and I loved watching her use it. Big irony that someone who took such care to make sure her family ate healthy, nutritious food got stomach cancer. I'm picturing a giant cosmic roulette wheel marked with all the good and bad stuff that can happen to us, clicking to a stop on that one...so unfair...

Opening up this site for the first time and seeing Beth looking out at me, vibrant as ever, took my breath away. Trite as it is, I have to say it: Beth was a wonderful, lovely person. I'm honored that she was part of my life. She was someone whose qualities are worth emulating. Can't ask for more than that, other than that she was taken from us too soon.

One of the highlights of my Ulpan Year (10th grade) at Tel Yehudah was the group of chanichim from the CYJ-West who were part of our chug. Beth was among several whom I was fortunate enough to get to know that summer and who became dear friends on Year Course and beyond. I had never met anyone from Tucson. To this day, whenever I hear something about Tucson, I think of Beth - weird, I know. I recall her as sweet and funny and self-assured. I enjoyed visiting with Beth, Dan and their children in Kochav Yair, and wish we'd had more opportunities to get together during other visits to Israel. It is very much our loss that we did not do so. My thoughts and prayers are with Dan and your beautiful children. With much love,

Beth and I were co-counselors at Camp Young Judaea in Sanger, CA when we were both 16, more than 30 years ago. This was also the first time I met Beth. In our bunk were 5 American girls and 5 recent emigres from Russia. The Russian girls didn't speak a word of English and weren't interested in doing any of the scheduled activities at the camp. This frustrated me to no end and I had a really hard time that month. Beth, on the other hand, was able to laugh the whole thing off and it didn't bother her one bit. (I think this also might have had to do with the fact that she had a big fat crush on Dan that Summer and was happily in her own world.) Beth helped me to get through that month fairly unscathed. Her humor and support were always there for me. She was a good friend when I really needed one.
I'm so glad I got a chance to reconnect with her on Facebook before her untimely death. It really seems like just yesterday we were having "cheese toast" together on Har HaTzofim and giggling about Yaffa and her antics. She was a beautiful person and I am so sad she isn't with us any more.