"See, I was standing right there," I hold out the brochure for my children, pointing to the famous Panama Canal.
Several years ago my husband and I were the directors of a seminary, which girls from all over the world attended.
It's that time of year again. You're sure to be visually bombarded at every turn of your shopping experience.
Ever since I can remember, my husband's practice has been, like many men, to buy me a lovely bouquet of flowers for Shabbat.
Bitter was the daily fare of the Jewish slaves in their Egyptian exile.
Joe is sitting in the den. The remote control keeps his hands busy while his unseeing eyes gaze straight ahead.
After a long and taxing day at work, followed by the usual battle with rush hour traffic, Joe finally arrived home.
Tomorrow is the day after Labor Day. We all know what that means.
You. Yes, it is you that I'm talking to.
Dear Mrs. Weisberg, The present era is particularly harsh, especially for the families in Israel.
I'm not sure what spurred it, but this morning, during my davening (prayers), my mind wandered.
It is almost exactly one year since my father-in-law, Rabbi Yankel Weisberg, passed away.
Dear Mrs. Weisberg, I enjoy your column and was deeply touched by the "bittersweet" simcha at the bris of your friend's Down Syndrome child that you wrote about several months ago.
I drove home from work on that uneventful sunny Tuesday afternoon as I do every other day.
The deeper message behind our vigilant search and removal of chometz for Pesach is the need to remove any vestige of spiritual chometz from our beings and personalities.
With an active household and a busy lifestyle, my day, as for most people, is full of many mundane chores that need to be taken care of as part of the routine schedule.
Women love shopping. Just ask their husbands. They'll tell you.
Against the backdrop of rolling valleys and mountains, and a sun bathing creation with its warmth, creation awaits it finale.
A few weeks ago, my family and I arrived in Cleveland on a Sunday afternoon.
This is the story of a very special Sefer Torah (Torah Scroll), purchased shortly after the Second World War by my maternal zeide (grandfather), Rabbi Pinchas Sudak, when he and his family were on their dangerous trek escaping from Communist Russia.