Sunday, April 30, 2017

Again, In Honor of Remembrance Day

I Believe

My eyes hurt. They are swollen. It is not because of the allergy season although that doesn’t help. No, my eyes are puffy and sore because I cried last night. I cried a lot. It happens every year at the Remembrance Day Ceremony in the Shilo Gym. Every year I realize I did not bring enough tissues with me. Every year I am amazed anew that I still have tears left to cry.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Ten Shekels

He was a little chubby, dressed in normal schoolboy clothes with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Probably ten-years-old, certainly not more than twelve, he boarded the bus and scanned the passengers. Purposely he made his way to the woman sitting in front of me. 

“Can I have ten shekels to pay the driver? I need to go on two buses.”

Monday, April 24, 2017

courtesy of jjcjax.org

There were many silent heroes during the Shoah. Among them was Felix Zandman, z’l. Within his vast accomplishment he founded the company, Vishay. Our family business has worked with Vishay for twenty years. After seeing the documentary of Mr. Zandman’s life I am very proud of that connection.  The movie, an hour long, can be viewed at https://vimeo.com/127819629 . It’s a worthwhile way to spend an hour on Holocaust Remembrance Day or any day of the year.

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Good Morning, Tahel: A Short Story of Fiction

courtesy of tsheets.com

Chana begins the story:
It was the most assertive thing I’d done in my life. My finger shook as I punched in the phone number.
“Good morning, Tahel. How can I help you?”
As soon as I heard her kind voice my whole body began trembling. How could they help me? How could anyone help me?

Friday, April 14, 2017

The Passover Guest by Joan Koehler


Years ago I found the following story in a women’s magazine,Redbook, Ladies’ Home  Journal, or Good Housekeeping.Charmed with the tale, I clipped it and packed it away with my Pesach things to come out and be reread year after year.

Unfortunately, I never found another work of fiction by Joan Koehler. Recently I tried, unsuccessfully, to learn about her life on the internet. If anyone does have any information about her I would be happy to receive it.

In the meantime, please enjoy this story and accept my warm wishes for a happy holiday.
The Passover Guest
by Joan Koehler

Spring had come to Vislovitz. Under the pale sunlight the last sooty lumps of snow melted into puddles. But just looking at the calendar was enough to make any Jewish housewife faint-April already-and only a few days till Passover. Even the rich women who wore satins and pearls on the Sabbath were down on their hands and knees scrubbing.

Thursday, April 6, 2017

I'll Be Home For Pesach

When my oldest son entered the army our family acted as if no one had ever been a soldier before. Proud is not the word. We took pictures. We bought presents. And when he came home on his first leave with an invitation for Parents’ Day at his base we were excited. Never mind that his base was at the ends of the earth, almost to Eilat. And never mind that Parents’ Day was five days before Pesach. We were going! We loaded our van with six kids, food, activities, and change of clothes and took off. The ride was long. There were food stops, bathroom stops, throw-up stops, and change of clothes stops, but we made it.

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Good Guy or Bad Guy?


Sometimes I lock the front door when I’m home alone and decide to take a shower. Sometimes I don’t. That particular evening I hadn’t and as I walked out of the shower I heard someone knocking loudly on my front door. Remembering my carelessness I wrapped myself in a towel, pulled a full-length robe over it, and made my way to the entrance of my home.

“Who’s there?” I called through the wooden, windowless door. Perhaps it was my grandson, a friend walking by, or maybe a charity collector.

“Rav Moshe (not the real name),” was the reply.

I wasn’t really sure who Rav Moshe was although a fleeting thought about a particular charity collector floated through my mind. It didn’t matter if I knew him. Dressed or not, I wasn’t interested in opening our front door to any man I didn’t know very well if I was home alone. My response was made without a bit of hesitation.