Fellow congregants wanted to make certain that Isaacson at least symbolically realized his dream of moving Ner Tamid Synagogue from rented quarters in Rancho Bernardo to its own building on a hilltop in Poway.  So they gathered at the construction site, where Isaacson participated in a symbolic dedication.

The building's walls have not yet been erected, but congregants built a door attached to a portable frame.  At the appointed moment, Isaacson, supported by members of his family, stepped through this passageway of love.  

Mollie Cohen, who attended, reported that she and nearly everyone else who witnessed this ceremony were moved to tears. A plaque fashioned for the occasion—and possibly the door itself—will be incorporated into the building, reported  I. Gerry Burstain, a former Ner Tamid president. 

Isaacson, of course, is not giving up on attending the building's actual dedication, whenever that might be.  Nor should he, counsels Laura Simon who on the same day celebrated her 99th birthday with family and friends at the Marriott Hotel in Mission Valley.

Simon said she believes a secret to longevity is setting survival goals for oneself.  For example, she said, seniors should promise themselves they will live at least long enough to attend the bar mitzvah, or wedding, of this or that  grandchild or great-grandchild.  

In her case, Simon says she has set the goal of  living at least long enough to find a publisher and then to hear her autobiography read on "books on tape."  Legally blind, she has been dictating her memoirs  into a tape recorder for friends to transcribe. She is an engaging story-teller: Two of her articles for the now defunct San Diego Jewish Press-Heritage won journalistic awards. 

Although she discovered it  late in her own life, writing talent seems to run in the family: Her son, Mayo Simon, is both a playwright and observer of the legitimate theatre's folkways. 

Learning about the ceremony for Isaacson, Laura Simon suggested that the Ner Tamid founder  vow to live at least long enough to attend important ceremonies inside the consecrated building.

Mentally alert and reflective at 99, Simon confided that she no longer fears death the way she did when she was 40 or 50 years old. She said she believes the experience of death will be the same kind of peaceful feeling that comes over her at times when sits alone in her quiet University City area apartment, where she lives independently. 

After she dies, she said, her life works will be like a droplet in an ocean. Now and again, that droplet will come into contact with the shores of the  living.  Her deeds perhaps will influence those who remember her, while her written words may reach and affect those whom she never met.

Even  though she continues to set her survival goals, Simon says she feels both comfort and a sense of satisfaction that the lessons she learned during her long life occasionally  will touch the shores walked by future generations.  —Donald H. Harrison