The Wisdom Project at Moment: Inspirational conversations with wise people who have been fortunate to live long lives.
This week’s conversation is with Frida Jacobson, 91, of Chevy Chase, MD.
Talking with Frida Jacobson, you immediately realize that she has lived a charmed life packed with adventure, trials, resilience and love.
Born on August 31, 1933, in Brussels, Belgium, Frida was the only child of Nuchim Treystman and Regina Schwartzova Treystman. Her father came from Poland; her mother, from Czechoslovakia. The family’s life was stable until the Nazis invaded Belgium in 1940. Frida’s dad operated a small atelier that employed a few women dressmakers. At night, her mother sold the clothes out of a suitcase to specialty stores. By day, she risked finding and selling soap—a scarce commodity during the war—to try to keep the family afloat.
In 1941, Frida’s life changed suddenly. With the war raging and danger for Belgium’s Jews growing, Frida was first forced to wear the yellow star and barred from attending school. As a result, her parents sent her to a convent where Catholic nuns hid her for almost three years.
The separation from her parents was devastating. It was only decades later, at a reunion conference in New York City for the war’s hidden children, that Frida learned that it wasn’t her parents who sent her to the convent; two devoutly Catholic aristocrats (without their husbands’ knowledge) risked being shot to try to save Belgium’s little Jewish girls. (“They made a deal with the convent and went to our parents,” Frida now says.)
The women rescued around 35 girls, all of whom were given non-Jewish names by the convent to shield their identities. Frida was “Rita Devos.” The convent’s mother superior eventually returned the girls to their parents when the Gestapo learned of the sanctuary. Frida’s family fled, seeking refuge in farms and attics.
Frida was 20 when her life changed even more dramatically. She married a man, Sully Menache, whose import-export business took them to the Democratic Republic of the Congo (then called the Belgian Congo). There they had five children, a son and then four daughters, all by the time Frida was 27. (“I was pregnant every year,” she says.)
When she was 37, Sully died of cancer. Frida took her family back to Belgium and ran her husband’s business from there. With only a high school degree and an abundance of insight, strength and determination, she tripled revenues within a year.
Frida would be lucky in love twice more. She met her husband of 13 years, Dr. Marcus Jacobson, a German Jewish psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor visiting from America, and moved her family there in 1978. After Jacobson died, she met Jay Finkel, an economist with the U.S. Treasury Department, who was her partner for 26 years until his passing in 2023. Today she has five children, seven grandchildren and two great-grandchildren who adore and celebrate her.
Moment sat down with Frida recently at her home, where she shared her life’s wisdom.
Thank you for talking with us today. What inspired you to be part of Moment’s Wisdom Project?
I want to leave a legacy to my children—to everybody—and that is that. You have to fight for what you want in life.
Frida Jacobson at the rally to bring the Israeli hostages home in Washington, DC, on January 19, 2025.
What have you fought for in your life?
I fought when I was 27 years old and raising five children, oh my gosh, in Congo. I left my parents at 20-something to go to Africa. My husband was Italian by nationality, born in Cairo and Jewish, and he had business in Belgium. When we moved to Congo, I was so hot, I said to my husband of three days, “I cannot stay here. I want to go back to my parents.” He said, “Have a little bit of patience. You’ll see, it’s going to be better.” We had no air conditioning, but I didn’t go home.
What brought you back to Belgium?
Fighting for my children. I was widowed at 37. Alone in Congo with not too much money, I was afraid. I couldn’t raise all these little girls in Africa, so I came back to Belgium. And then I fought to keep my chiIdren. I was not going to let them take my children away.
Who would have taken them away?
The Belgian government—any government—if you can’t feed your children, they put them in [homes or institutions]. I was really afraid of that. Coming back was hard; I had not lived in Europe for 18 years. All the girls I’d known were married, their children were little, they were busy housewives, and here I am.
What did you do? How did you manage?
I had to make some gut decisions. I had little stores and my business was not going well then because we couldn’t import things from South Africa. But I took out loans, and I did what I thought was the right thing for the future of my kids.
How did you eventually emigrate to America?
That’s a story! I came back to Brussels from a business trip to Africa, and at the airport they asked me if I wanted to share a taxi with another person. Oh sure, I said, I want to get home to my children. They put me in a taxi with a very nice gentleman wearing a cashmere coat and a brown fur hat. Very classy, very distinguished. I didn’t speak English well, but I could interact a little. And the gentleman looked at me, and, speaking English, said, “Madam, if you come one day to America, I’m a widower. I lost my wife three years ago. I have three grown kids, and it would be my pleasure.” I only understood half of what he said. He gave me his card. I didn’t look at it. When we arrived at my house, I gave him my card. I thought, business, you never know.
I was hosting a big party that evening, because I was very proud that I’d bought my house. I’d done something for my kids! My Portuguese housekeeper had cooked some roast beef and people came with champagne. I had invited only the parents of the children who went to school with mine. When you’re a young widow, you can’t have men in the house.
That man is about to come back into the story, isn’t he?
Yes! I’d forgotten about him when the cab dropped me off. I was busy entertaining and rejoicing. At about 8:30 p.m., there was a ring at the bell, and my son, who was 18 or 19 at the time, opened the door. It was the gentleman from the taxi. My son didn’t speak English, but the gentleman was clever and showed my card to my son. When he saw it, my son let him inside.
His name was Marcus Jacobson, a German man living in America. He came every few years to Brussels, because during the Holocaust, he had hidden there with his parents. His father was taken by the Germans in front of him and had made a sign, like don’t even look at me, just go your way. Marcus was around 16. He then lived with [a Belgian family] and went to school at night with their son, his friend.
I was surprised (to say the least!) to see him at the party.
The party ended at two o’clock in the morning. He was staying at the Hilton and asked if I would come have breakfast with him there later.
The next morning, I came downstairs at eight o’clock dressed to perfection, because, you know, in Europe, you go in high heels everywhere, even to pick up your baguette. We had a beautiful breakfast. At the airport, we spoke for 15 or 20 minutes. They called his flight. He gave me his hand and took me in his arms but didn’t kiss me on the mouth—he kissed me on the cheek. And I am thinking: What is happening to me? You have five kids, you don’t have a lot of money, you have mortgages, you have girls to educate.
And so?
We got married! He worked for the government in Washington, DC. That’s why I’m here now. And I never regretted coming to America; the future in Europe was no good for my children because I didn’t have money. Here they studied and it was the land of opportunities.
Were you afraid of making such a big move?
My big fear was not being able to provide for my children. When I moved here, my friends said, “You don’t know him, it’s going to be so difficult, your children don’t speak a word of English.”
I said, “God is going to help me if I am courageous enough to show my children that I’m not afraid.”
During the war, when you were sent to the convent, you thought your parents didn’t want you. How did you learn the real story?
I was in New York in 1991 for the first-ever Hidden Children Conference. I was going to the room for Belgian Jews. A lady stopped me and asked my name. “What name do you want,” I responded, “my real name or the name I used in hiding—my Christian name?” She said, “Any name,” and so I said, “Rita Devos.” And she looked down in her old little black leather book, and said, “Hello, Frida.” It turns out, she was one of the ladies who had actually taken me to the convent.
Wow! How do you thank someone for saving your life?
I volunteered at a Catholic church consignment shop here for 17 years, until I needed a walker. When I came in they were selling Ferragamo shoes for $10. I said, “That’s not the way to do business.” They were making $95,000 a year. When I left, they were making $350,000 because I knew the brands.
You’ve had adversity in life but you’ve also experienced a great deal of grace. How do you explain that?
I think this: If you have it hard, turn it around. Practice gratitude. That makes it a little bit easier.
What is your advice for anyone making a tough decision and who sees uncertainty ahead?
Do what you feel is the right thing to do, even if it’s difficult. Do it for your family or to feel that you have done something good.
And your advice to people who say something is impossible?
Nothing is impossible. You have to have faith and you have to have courage. You can build courage. You can give yourself courage. Say you know you can do it. Because you can.
You lost two husbands. How did you find love again with Jay Finkel?
We met at a conference in Washington, DC. He was a widower. He’d worked under seven presidents from Harry Truman to Jimmy Carter before going into private law practice. He asked me to marry him in Paris, and I said, no, I don’t want to be married three times. We had 26 years together.
What do you want parents to know?
That you can transmit positivity or you can transmit your fears and anxiety to your children.
What do you want kids to know?
Do what you want to do. In love, you have to feel it in your heart. If you feel that it’s the right thing, do it, and if it’s the wrong thing, abandon it. When you feel that it’s a good thing, don’t give up!
You’re 91, you’ve had a long life. How do you adjust to life’s circumstances as you age?
It’s not easy. I listen to my children. They say, “Mom, you can do it.”
As an American today, when you see antisemitism out in the open, what do you think?
The world will (always) remind you that you are Jewish, but antisemitism is growing to such a point that it’s similar to what happened pre-World War II. The financial crisis is the only thing missing in the equation. In this country, you wonder: How is it possible that people don’t see that they voted for a guy who has been 34 times indicted and appoints people who have no knowledge to govern the country?
Why is it important for people to speak out?
Because when people speak out, something good can be done.
Top image: Linda Menache, Daniele Menache and Annick Nemirovsky (from left to right) surrounding Frida Jacobson (Photo credits: Daniele Menache).