Rachel Juni, a resident of Ann Arbor, Michigan, died on May 10th, 2022 at the age of 99. Funeral services arranged by The Dorfman Chapel.
Broadcast of Service:Rachel (née Geitheim) Juni, age 99, passed away in her home in Ann Arbor, Michigan on May 10, 2022. She was a graduate of the third class of Queens College in Jamaica, Queens, NY where she grew up. In her late teens, she met the great love of her life, Elliot Juni, who was the son of her parents' closest friends from Europe. The families originated in what was then Eastern Galicia, Austria-Hungary, in the area now known as Southwestern Ukraine. They were married on March 5, 1944 until Elliot's death in January, 2016.
Rachel (Rae, Rekhl) and Elliot's early travels followed his pursuit of his PhD, leading eventually to Atlanta, GA where he had a faculty position at Emory University and finally to Ann Arbor, MI where she supported him in his faculty and research position at the University of Michigan Medical School.
In addition to her continuing interest in science, which she discussed avidly with Elliot, she actively did many things. The family was always her utmost focus, for whom she exemplified the Yiddish term baleboste – an always gracious host, homemaker, active parent, teacher and guide to her children and grandchildren, and generous host to numerous close friends. It is impossible to describe the love, creativity, intelligence, and pure joy she endlessly radiated.
In the early 1960s, Rachel and Elliot actively campaigned, including door to door in the South, for civil rights and continued political work their whole lives. They also enjoyed membership in many square dance clubs, including their favorite type, "challenge level," which involved memorizing almost 1,000 dance formation calls. Their related papers are archived in the Elliot and Rachel Juni Challenge Square Dance Collection at the New Hampshire Library of Traditional Music and Dance.
Rachel was an accomplished artist who worked with fiber art, abstract paintings, plus. She donated countless hours to various volunteer activities including library work at the Beth Israel synagogue, Hadassah, and the early years of the Washtenaw Jewish News. Starting about 25 years ago, she became an ardent Yiddishist, working to preserve her ancestral language. In that regard, she participated for decades in two weekly Ann Arbor Yiddish Groups, one of which she created and hosted. During Covid, she continued to participate weekly in the Ann Arbor "Yidish Tish" and several other Yiddish groups via Zoom.
She is survived by her son, Jack (Rochelle); her daughter, Susannah; two grandchildren, Eva (Ryan) Stevenson and Elyssa (Luke) Vanderlinden; and two great grandchildren, Janaki and Lakshman Vanderlinden.
By Jack E. Juni:
Every skyscraper has an inner structure; an invisible skeleton of iron girders with the strength to support the rest of the building. A knowledgeable architect looks at such a building, strong and tall and, for the best ones, says, "Good bones. Good bones".
Rachel Juni's strength and love were the bones at the core of our family, supporting and lifting us as high as we could rise. Not too long ago, she fell and broke her thigh bone. Although she had been ill for some time - despite the efforts of family and loving caregivers - this fall and fracture precipitated her death.
Bones - a poem by Jack E. Juni
Tibia, femur, fibula.
Bones short, bones long.
With them, you ran fast,
Danced with grace,
Stood proud.
Hips that birthed two well-loved babes,
Spine of strength, skull of wit,
Hands you used to get things done
Ribs that held a heart uncaged
Shoulders, holding the world at times.
Arms that gave love's sweet caress.
Long and well these bones have served you,
Striding earth, dancing, following love.
Yet, all the while, the earth kept singing,
singing,
singing its siren song.
Calling, entreating, yearning
for your return.
Resist! Resist!
Long, you have resisted.
So many years
and so many more.
But, sometimes feet don't follow will.
A misplaced step, a busy thought.
Earth reaches up to claim its own.
Falling, yes, but never fallen
Rising on bones now thin and frail
Each time more slowly, each time less sure,
Till one day, the earth reached out and grabbed you.
In grasping ambush, it yanked you down;
desperate with years of yearning
to hold you close.
And down you tumbled,
spinning, flailing,
handholds mere inches out of reach.
Those bones, they cracked.
Those bones they crumbled.
Shattered glass.
How could they fail you after years so faithful?
Disloyal servants, a harsh betrayal.
The earth, is such a desperate lover!
Hugs that hurt, embrace that cripples.
Tearing you from family, friends.
Claiming at last, its long-sought desire..
But you, oh woman of beauty,
Of dancing heart;
You dance on still.
You are not claimed.
You are your own
and will, forever,
be ours.
By Eva Stevenson:
Thank you all for coming here to honor our Grandma Rachel. Our family is very grateful for all of the love and support. We would like to extend a special thank you to the caregivers, some of whom may be watching from home, who cared for Grandma during the last years and days of her life. Your tenderness and devotion to Grandma did not go unnoticed, and we are so grateful to have you as part of our family.
Family was the most important thing to Grandma. Growing up, we were always together for holidays and shabbos dinners. Our Grandparents never missed a dance recital, school play, or birthday party. Grandma was always there to help, support, and beam with pride.
Grandma showed her love through caretaking. After entering her home, you were always smothered with hugs and kisses and asked a dozen times if there was anything you needed. Thirsty? A nosh?
Grandma never let you help her cook except maybe opening a stuck pickle jar.
She wanted to care for you. Not just through wonderful family dinners, but the gallon size ziplock bags of snacks for the drive home.
Grandma loved through her service to the family, and taught us to do the same.
Grandma always wanted everyone to be smiling and comfortable at all times. Bad moods, anger, fighting, were not allowed in her house. Sad topics were not discussed and negative judgements were not spoken. My father used to joke that the worst thing my Grandma ever said about a bad restaurant meal was that it was "only adequate."
While only living in a happy world may seem like an incomplete expression of the human experience, I believe that Grandma's insistence on optimism came out of her parents' difficult past; leaving Europe with literally just the clothes on their backs, their money sewn into their jacket linings. Grandma's parents never talked about the tragic deaths of the family they left behind, choosing instead to focus on their new lives as Americans.
Grandma always focused on the blessings of our lives and the sweetness of togetherness.
Grandma loved fiercely and stubbornly, often telling us not to forget how much we were loved. And if you don't like it, she'll fight ya!
Grandma was the most loving and accepting person I have ever known. It was unconditional.
Grandma didn't need you to get all A's or be impressive in your career, or have a certain lifestyle. She just wanted you to enjoy what you were doing. She wanted you to have joy. When I was with Grandma last weekend, one of the last things she said to me was that she "just want[s] everyone to be happy."
So that's how Grandma leaves us -- with a reminder to find our joy in life.
We will miss her very much.
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