Apart from that, the Oneg was a great success with inspiring divrei Torah and singing until late.
We were reintroduced and Leah warmly welcomed me to ask what was in my heart. Her genuine warmth and sweet loving smile overwhelmed me.
Though dozens of beautiful and memorable Pesachs have passed since that fateful chag thirty-five years ago, the memory of that tragic Yom Tov is forever engrained in our family’s collective memory.
I was dumbstruck. I couldn’t help but laugh. Here we thought the idea was my husband’s but obviously the idea came from somewhere else.
Baruch Hashem, I have plenty of family in Israel, but Miriam’s host was not “family” per se, though her host would differ with me on this fact, rather someone whose family had an impact on me over 50 years ago!
Their father had been deported to a forced labor camp at the beginning of the Holocaust. He was never seen again.
He hadn’t even bothered to think of a plausible excuse as to why they had suddenly found a spare Seder dish and he hoped they wouldn’t ask him any questions.
We were pleasantly surprised, just after my wife lit the Shabbos candles, when Sonja’s face lit up and she exclaimed, “I remember my mother doing that!”
The fact that I was in a hurry made me think I should just take the card from him and open it for him.
After all, the exact amount one will make throughout the year is determined on Rosh Hashanah. It was only during Rosh Hashanah davening that I realized exactly what the kaparah was for.
The woman closest to her smiled and said, "I'm not, but my great grandmother was, and I like Jewish people."
Where could we go? There was no shelter anywhere! But then we noticed a small white house beside an old red barn hiding behind the trees.
One evening, that young man ‘happened’ to leave just as I did, and he chivalrously offered to walk me to my bus stop.
A Job…good girls… “I’ll get one,” I whispered furtively to Blankie. “I’ll be one of those good girls.”
He handed it to me and hmm… yes, it was definitely a private check book left unattended, with a woman’s name, address, and phone number printed at the top.
The day finally came, and with great anticipation and joy, both Einat and her husband went to the hospital.
This was just one of the odd things I heard, there were more when we visited the family sitting shiva.
As he was en route, with one scholar and one scholar-wannabe in tow, he was unfortunately involved in a too-close encounter with a huge army truck.
As he was leading the kehillah, he heard a voice in his ear instructing him “to take care of my daughter.”
Occasionally, Shimon would enquire after their children and grandchildren but for many this was too painful as they had little or no contact with them, so he had learnt over the years who he could ask and who he shouldn’t.
It was only later in the day, during afternoon carpool, that things abruptly spun out of control. Literally.
Rabbi Margalit, wanting somehow to soothe the man’s pain, began to respond but the man wouldn’t let him.
“Don’t say a word,” Mrs. P warned us with a wag of her finger. “Let the kallah think for herself.”
Although I did not know it yet, missing my stop was predestined.
I was not going to be the one to point out to her that there had been no reason for her to turn around at all.