One Starfish at a Time – Volunteering Across Generations
“We didn’t want to be those people who just go to lunch. We needed to be useful.
We needed to be out in the world.”
— Arlene Cowan
SOVA Volunteer
When Arlene and Frank Cowen retired from decades of public service—she as a teacher and teacher trainer, he as a court-appointed probate supervisor—they didn’t slow down. They found a new rhythm of purpose, one anchored in service, community, and continuity. At a time when many wrestle with how to find meaning after retirement, the Cowens leaned into a lifelong value system—giving back.
“We didn’t want to be those people who just go to lunch,” Arlene said, half-joking. “We needed to be useful. We needed to be out in the world.”
Their story, shared in a recent interview at SOVA Community Food & Resource Program’s Valley pantry, is not only heartwarming but deeply instructive. It reveals the cultural and emotional depth of community service, particularly how volunteering isn’t just a good deed; it’s a way of life, a generational bridge, and in this case, a shared family legacy.
A Legacy of Compassion
Arlene began volunteering at SOVA Valley in 2010, the year she retired. What started as a suggestion from her daughter quickly became a lifeline. “I felt useless,” she recalled. “You go from helping people every day to suddenly no one needing you. But then I toured SOVA and I knew this is where I belonged.”
Frank joined her shortly after, wanting to stay close and be helpful in his own right. Together, they became mainstays of the pantry team, serving at intake and greeting clients, checking out clients, and organizing supplies. They’ve worked on rainy days, throughout heatwaves, and in the uncertainties of a pandemic. “Our schedule revolves around SOVA,” Frank said. “We’re loyal, and they know they can count on us.”
More Than Food
The Cowens’ work at the pantry goes far beyond distributing groceries. It’s about dignity. Connection. Humanity.
“There’s a Holocaust survivor who comes weekly. She always says, ‘I remember you. I told you my story,’” Arlene said. “When people share their lives with you, you know you’re in the right place.”
What remains constant is the gratitude from clients and the community they’ve helped build with fellow volunteers. “It’s like family,” Frank said. “We’ve been through weddings, loss, Hanukkah parties. These friendships are lasting.”
“Retirement shouldn’t be an end,
it’s a new beginning.”
—Frank Cowan
SOVA Volunteer
Volunteering Is the Thread That Connects Us All
The Cowen’s commitment isn’t limited to their own generation. Their daughter works in Jewish nonprofit leadership, and their young grandchildren have already begun assembling care kits for unhoused neighbors. The ethic of service runs deep—back to Arlene’s grandmother, who hosted dollar lunches for charity, and her father volunteered for Jewish War Veterans.
“We believe in l’dor v’dor—from generation to generation,” Arlene said. “And you can see that legacy unfolding. That’s what makes us feel like we’ve done something right.”
A Lesson for All Ages
“Retirement,” Frank said, “shouldn’t be an end—it’s a new beginning.”
“I was afraid of retirement,” he admitted. “I even went back to work for a few years part-time. Volunteering made that transition smoother. It keeps me engaged, and it makes my days meaningful.”
Arlene’s words echo that wisdom: “Service shouldn’t be about the number of hours. It’s about being part of something bigger than yourself.”
And if younger folks are wondering how they, too, can help? Arlene offers a favorite parable told to her by Rabbi Eli Schochet: The story of the starfish. A million starfish get washed up onto the shore and an old man picks them up, one by one, and puts them back into the ocean. A child scoffs, “You’ll never make a difference.” But the man smiles and tosses another starfish into the sea, “I made a difference to that one.”
“You start with one,” says Arlene, “That’s how the world changes.”
The Cowens’ story is a beacon for anyone asking how to serve, how to belong, and how to live meaningfully—whether you’re 17 or 77. As isolation, economic stress, and cultural fragmentation continue to grow, their example reminds us that the antidote is within reach.
Start small. Start now. Pick up one starfish. Because the world needs you—and there’s a place for everyone at the table.
