For Wisconsinites in Israel, fear and resilience coexist

There has been hospital chaos, the jarring sound of sirens at night – moments of real fear. 

As Iranian missiles and drones streaked across Israeli skies in the opening weeks of the 2026 war, Jewish Wisconsinites stood amid the unfolding crisis. Some Wisconsinites in Israel feel resilient and unafraid, embracing shelters as places of unexpected community. Others spoke of their fear, in a series of interviews with the Chronicle. Yet many say their experiences have deepened their gratitude for life, family, and a bond to Israel that makes it feel like home, even under fire. 

Tzipi Altman-Shafer, vice president of Jewish Communal Life and Learning at Milwaukee Jewish Federation, arrived in Israel on Feb. 27, likely on one of the last flights before Israeli airspace closed. Her focus was to meet her first grandchild, a baby girl, who was born two days earlier in Jerusalem. Altman-Shafer barely had time to settle into her daughter’s hospital room before sirens started going off, alerting them to move to the hospital’s bomb shelter.  

“It was three days after the C-section, and the shelter was a boiler room, so it was really hot in there,” Altman-Shafer said. “We had a dozen and a half mothers with babies less than three days old in there, and some fathers too, and it was crowded. There was nowhere to sit.” 

Altman-Shafer pushed her daughter, Shoshi Moser, in a hospital wheelchair between the maternity ward and crowded hospital shelters. Soon, nurses began urging an early discharge, fearing the hospital might become a target for Iranian missiles. 

The family was discharged from the hospital with no diapers or formula. Since the baby had come two weeks early, Altman-Shafer’s daughter and son-in-law didn’t have those supplies at home. A mall attached to the hospital was open after Shabbat. 

“I went in there and bought all the diapers I could find, and formula and bottles and good clothes. Anything I could think of that we didn’t have at home,” Altman-Shafer said. 

She said it was “terrifying” driving through Jerusalem’s empty streets with her daughter’s newborn in tow. Still, Altman-Shafer believes she is “tremendously lucky.” 

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here,” Altman-Shafer said. She helps her daughter and son-in-law care for their new baby and Zooms into work from their home, often from the safe room. “I’m glad to be here with my daughter. I worry less here than I would if I were away,” Altman-Shafer said.  

She also made a point to say that compared to other places in Israel, where she’s staying is considered less at risk. 

“Different parts of Israel are getting way more alerts than others,” Altman-Shafer said. “I am in a very small community, and there are a couple thousand people here. We are not as much of a target.” 

About an hour west, Jessica Perl, who moved to Israel from Milwaukee in 2025, lives in a Tel Aviv apartment near the beach with three roommates. She has experienced more than 100 alerts since the war started.  

“The first couple of times were really jarring,” Perl said.  

As soon as she gets an alert, Perl grabs her cat and runs downstairs to the bomb shelter. But once downstairs, fear gives way to community. “Who’s playing Uno?” neighbors ask. “How was everyone’s workday?”  

People coming from the boardwalk of the nearby beach, bus riders heading to work and even guys from the corner store holding cups of coffee crowd the bomb shelter. 

“War is definitely a big part of life here, but it’s not the only thing,” she said. “I’ve really loved my life here.” 

With Chilean and Canadian roommates and an Eritrean Orthodox Christian coworker, Perl believes that she’s had the opportunity to interact with people from backgrounds that she wouldn’t have if she hadn’t moved there. 

“I’ve met a lot of great people, olim and Israelis… just such a mix of support and community from random people,” Perl said. “Meeting a bunch of other people and interacting with different Jewish cultures has been really nice.” 

Back in Jerusalem, Jody Hirsh is visiting Israel on his annual trip. Hirsh spent 30 years as the director of Judaic education at Milwaukee’s Harry and Rose Samson Family Jewish Community Center. It’s his third time living through war in Israel, but Hirsh said he’s “always felt reasonably safe” there. 

“I love Israel. It’s really been home to me in so many ways. Some of my best friends in the universe are here in Israel,” Hirsh said. 

The danger of war still lingers in his mind, but he says it has deepened his appreciation for life. 

“I could be walking to the market tomorrow and be hit by falling debris,” he said. “You really kind of evaluate your life and realize how precious your friends and family are.”  

Alerts go off all the time, and yet Hirsh still gathers with friends for dinner to tell stories and laugh. “People realize that wars here are constant, and you have to have a life,” Hirsh said. 

Heather Polan, Wisconsin ER nurse who traveled earlier this year to Israel for a half marathon and a mountain biking trip with friends, echoes this sentiment. “You do kind of get used to it,” she said about the alerts. Due to the Iran war, Polan extended her stay in Israel, having returned to the U.S. in mid-March. 

Polan considered hunkering down in a community shelter to be a chance to spend time with Amcha — our people. She often brought dog treats to these community shelters, and she said they became “indoor dog parks.” 

“These dogs are pretty calm and let people pet them,” Polan said. “It’s almost like they’re therapy dogs.” 

The Cedarburg native, who has visited many times since her teens, said she feels confident Israel keeps her safe. “Sometimes it feels better to be taking in the news… from Israel than being in the states,” Polan said. She said she dreaded the antisemitism she expected to experience after returning to the U.S. 

When Judy Orenstein Dorfman gets alerts to take cover, she doesn’t hunker down in a bomb shelter.  

The Fox Point native lives on a kibbutz about half an hour south of the Jordan border. She’s lived there since 1968. Widowed and living alone, she lacks easy access to the community bomb shelter. 

“I don’t go to the shelter because the path there is not easy and the steps are extremely steep,” Dorfman said. “I do not have a reinforced room. In my bedroom, I have a little bathroom with no exterior walls, and that’s where I go.” 

Dorfman said that nighttime alerts are “a bit more scary” because she can’t see anything. Yet she calls her experience living in Israel “quite positive.” Many of her friends and family are there. She shops at the kibbutz store and visits her granddaughter ten minutes away. 

Daily life in Israel has not stopped. Public transit is limited, and many schools are closed. Work often happens from home or in safe rooms. Yet resilience shines through in small ways, whether that be community members petting their neighbors’ dogs in bomb shelters, strangers playing Uno with each other, and loved ones stepping in to help each other when it matters most. 

“We have our wars all the time,” Dorfman said. “I’ve lived here so many years of my life already.” 

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