Write Your Story

Written by: Anonymous

Looking through the window into my home, I see the seasons of my life play like scenes on a large movie screen.

The first scene is of my husband and I as newlyweds having supper picnic style on the dining room floor since we didn’t own a dining room set. There is the first quarrel and the first making up.There are talks about our future the one we hoped to have. I see our first house and my husband busy with repairing and remodeling.

There are sequential happy scenes of becoming parents and bringing home each of our four bundles of joy. There are the monumental moments of childhood with first steps, first words and first day of school. I hear laughter and see smiling faces. Moving into teen years, I see the rebellious years, drivers licenses, first dates and graduations. These are followed by college days, weddings and the becoming grandparents thirteen times.

I see family gathered for holidays. There are brightly decorated Christmas trees with presents underneath. I hear the singing of Christmas carols. A long table is spread with a Thanksgiving feast where everyone holds hands to give thanks. There are plastic eggs of every color hidden around the yard for the grandchildren to find. There are birthday cakes, candles and wishes wished for.

There are the days we held each other and wept for loved ones gone above. There were days we prayed together for strength for what lies ahead. There were days of celebration as well as days filled with regret.

Looking through the front window into my home I see all the blessings I have been given and all the love that has surrounded me. I thank God for the movie of my life that plays upon that large movie screen.

Written by: Janet

When I looked at my baby in the crib…

He was so tiny, and so skinny. He weight 6 lb 1 oz at birth. If only he would stop crying. Every time I looked at him in the hospital nursery, he was crying. My Mother stayed with us for a few days when we came home from 8 days in the hospital. He wouldn’t stop crying. Mother suggested giving him some whiskey in water and laying him on a heating pad, which was minimally helpful. The doctor said he was allergic to the formula, so we kept switching to different kinds. In spite of his problems, he thrived and filled out nicely.

Being a nurse and working in Pediatrics, I was very confident in caring for my baby, but frustrated when everything I tried didn’t soothe his crying. After a few months, though, the crying stopped and he was such a happy child. Then, I was able to appreciate the blessing we had been given.

Written by: Renee

When I looked at my baby in the crib…

As I stared at this first newborn I was amazed at this creation. I was feeling very fortunate and yet I felt scared. How was I going to be a good mother , I thought? Will I do everything right? I nursed him, even though my mother didn’t approve, and I looked into his eyes and tried imagining him as an older child and then as an adult. I wondered how I at 25 will be able to bring him up in ways different than I was raised. Here I was in a suburban area of Chicago while I was raised in the city of New York. I knew that I wanted brett to have what I did not have, learn to swim, do sports, learn to play the piano and also participate in fun classes at the Y or JCC. I my self took dance classes at the Educational Alliance in NYC but I did that with no guidance from my mother. I loved being with people and learning dance steps and just plain learning anything.Now he is so quiet and peaceful in my hands. Will it always be that way?No way! Brett turned out to be an active baby who refused naps by two, could not speak clearly and had to join a class to help him put words together to make sentences He also refused to use the toilet except to throw paper in it, and become trained. Life was not easy with him! Then two years later I had stu, easier than brett, who slept more often, but did not take to the nursing or bottle and I had to find special milk that he would not spit up: projectile vomiting they called it. He also had many tantrums and with his brother, by four, I had difficulty calming them down. The baby in the crib that was beautiful and quiet grows up to be adults with their own dreams and journeys. As you will have, as you grow and develop! I looked at him sleeping peacefully in his crib and marveled at this little person. Would we be good parents? Would we impart good values? Would we always know how to handle situations that come up when raising a child? We certainly had an abundance of love to give our son and maybe giving him love and keeping him safe was all we needed to do. When he was awake, I would watch him playing in his crib. His hands and feet never stopped moving, and he never stopped smiling. He loved the hanging mobile above him and delighted when it turned. Such innocence, such joy, such freedom. I wondered what will be the future of this little boy. And I prayed—prayed that his life should be everything he wanted, that he would be happy and healthy. That is the wish every parent has for their child.

Written by: Anonymous

When I first saw my beautiful baby boy…

When I first saw my beautiful baby boy I thought my heart would burst. Here he was in my arms after nine hours of labor spent screaming curses at my non present hubby. You see in the old days dads were not allowed in the berthing or delivery room. Us moms went it alone. At first sight I felt such love for this tiny mummy wrapped package looking up at me with his little crossed eyes and face resembling a very old President Ike without hair. He’s mine! I loved him to death and still do. What follows is the rest of the story. Mercy Hospital Maternity Ward was overflowing, they were berthing in the halls. I got lucky and made it to the delivery room only to be greeted by an overly anxious intern complaining about his bad back. “You’ve got a bad back, well isn’t that just dandy. I’m trying to get this baby out so corporate PLEASE.” My anger and pain was transferred from my husband to this unsuspecting Doctor. All he had to say was, “hold back, hold back, your doctor is in her way”. While the nurse is trying to calm him down. What a comedy of errors. I’m hoping the nurse can catch the kid. The intern doesn’t pass out and my Doctor gets here in time. With that the door opens, in rushes my Doctor and out pops Matthew right on cue. After a wash up and mummy wrap he was wheeled out to meet his waiting dad. Dad was so overcome with emotion he couldn’t stop crying and hugging our little miracle causing the doctor to join in on the cry. She was so moved saying she hadn’t seen such a happy dad in years.

Written by: Diane

The election that stands out most in my mind…

The one that stands out most is our recent presidential election, held just one month ago. There were so many concerns and much confusion this year, both because of the pandemic and also because of different voting options. There seemed to be a lot of discussion as to whether to do mail-in ballots or vote in person. Many people were afraid to go to the polls to vote because of crowds, even at early voting sites. They were worried about long lines and the lack of social distancing. Mail-in ballots seemed to be the safest and most efficient, but was it better to put your ballot into a mailbox, drop it off at the post office or take it to a location that had a ballot box? Still, many, many others were worried about the outcome of this election and possible interference either by domestic tactics or foreign governments.

I planned a program for our synagogue’s sisterhood presented by the League of Women’s Voters so that our members could learn accurate and up-to-date information. The presenters prepared a power point and encouraged mail-in ballots. Many people had concerns about the post office because of mail delays and other issues. Others were worried because of possible vote tampering or other fraud. The League representative spoke about the safety of ballot boxes which were situated at convenient locations. The representative also invited a former business owner who explained the Fair Tax Amendment.

Attending the presidential inauguration 24 years ago…

I attended the presidential inauguration of Bill Clinton in 1997. I had a close friend who had worked at the Democratic convention the previous summer when it was held here in Chicago. She was encouraged to attend the inauguration, and she invited two of us to go with her. I “jumped at the chance” to go along. I recall being thrilled because I really felt like I was a part of history. I also remember being completely bundled up as the temperature was “off the charts” cold that day.

As an extra bonus, unknown to me until few days before, a friend, who I had met years before in Israel, would be celebrating her 50th birthday that same weekend. And, so I received an invitation to the surprise party. She was doubly surprised, first by her friends and then by me.

Just the other day, I came across some memorabilia of the trip and pictures of the three of us standing on the lawn in front of the Capitol waiting for the inauguration ceremony to begin!

Written by: Diane

It was with a lot of trepidation and anxiety ( but not fear) that I went to overnight camp for the first time at the age of eleven. I had been on a few family vacations. However, the only times I had been separated from my parents overnight was when I had my tonsils removed at the age of 17 months (which I don’t even remember) and when I was five and stayed with my father’s sisters’ when my mother was in the hospital in the late stages of pregnancy with my brother.

My parents thought it would be a good idea for me to attend overnight camp the summer after 5th grade, and they chose a Jewish camp from the Conservative movement, Camp Ramah. Being the compliant child that I was, I agreed to go, not knowing anything about the program or anyone else who would be attending. So, my mother sewed labels into my clothing, gave me a stack of stamped envelopes, packed my trunk, took me to the train station, and I was on my way! There I was with butterflies in my stomach, feeling uneasy, and not knowing a soul. Sure, there were older kids on the train from my synagogue, but nobody paid any attention to me.

I had been going to religious school for three years, lived in a kosher home where Jewish customs and holidays were observed and celebrated so I was comfortable with the Ramah environment. There were fun activities and classes. But, the most important ingredient was missing; friends. I did not make one new friend that summer. I was in a cabin of 11 or 12 girls. Nobody bullied me or made fun of me. But, nobody really included me either. There were several cliques, but I was not included in any of them. I remember wanting to go home for most of the summer. Even the youngest campers like myself had to attend for the full eight weeks. My parents visited me on visitor’s day at the 4 week mark. I did not tell them that I wanted to go home, but I did physically hang on them for the entire 2 days that they were there.

When it came time for me to make a decision for the next summer, I only agreed to go because a friend who attended both elementary and Hebrew school with me decided to go. That next summer was great… and the summer after…., and the summer after… and so on. My friend from home and I joined with another 3 or 4 girls, became fast friends, and had a wonderful time summer after summer. My final summer at Ramah was the summer before I began college. I served as a junior counselor and my friend (from our group) worked as a waitress.

Sure enough, my summers at Ramah turned out to be wonderful experiences, chocked full of fun and positive memories.

Over the years, I have been in close touch consistently with two of these Ramah friends; the one from Chicago and one from Michigan. As a matter of fact, both of them were bridesmaids at my wedding. Thirty and then thirty-two years later, they were both at each of my daughters’ weddings . We have celebrated at each others simchas over the years as well as comforted each other on sad occasions and have seen each other through very challenging times.

I realized, after that first summer, how difficult it is to go somewhere alone, at any age, but especially as a child or teen.

Written by: Doria

A time that I was the most scared was…when our oldest daughter, April felt called to mission work , the year was 1999. Every parent wants their children to embrace faith and have a desire to share that faith with others. Right? That is until the reality sets in. Your teenaged child is going to another country with a group of strangers to a country where they are not welcomed!

We of course, told her how proud we were of her and that we would assist her in gathering financial and spiritual support. She was instructed and prepared by the organization she would travel with. Letters of spiritual and financial support came in. A dedication service was planned before her trip by our church.

I was however, having an internal spiritual battle with God. I clearly recall seeing images of idols in my dreams and hearing God say “ This is what I require of you.” My response would be “ What that I let her go? or that You let something happen to her?”

In my heart I believed God would be with me in either scenario. I certainly didn’t want to test that theory! My mother’s heart surely didn’t want to any harm to come to my beautiful, faithful child! I was scared for her life! I was scared she wouldn’t come back to me! A family friend, Sue put it all in perspective for us. She said “The God that is looking after her here will be the same God looking after her there.”

There are events in our lives that may test our faith. Each of us has the choice to become stronger or weaker in that faith. Our daughter, traveled out of the country not once but twice. Each time she blessed our lives as well as those she set out to minister too.

Written by: Sondra

The time I was the most scared was about fifteen years ago in Aspen Colorado. There I encountered a large hungry black bear entering my condo through the window. The animal was huge, at least five feet tall probably weighing more than two hundred fifty pounds before fattening up to hibernation weight. Coming from Chicago, having no experience dealing with wild bear I did everything wrong. Who knew you don’t stare the animal down and then bellow “Go Home”, while moving closer wielding a hiking stick. Unfortunately I have no flight mode, just a fight mode. I’m sure the animal was as shocked as me by my bizarre behavior causing him to back out of the window and sulk away. The next morning my neighbor confessed. He grilled fish on the community grill next to my window and forgot to scrape the grill clean. That’s a BIG no- no in bear country.

Written by: Renee

I dislike talking about being fearful but it is human nature to be afraid of things. I’m not sure why but I find that most people are afraid of something in their lives. What are you most afraid of? and why?

Let me tell you my story: I think I was most afraid when I lived as a child growing up in a tenement in NYC. I had a couple of occasions whereby crazy people grabbed me, but one time remains in my mind as particularly scary!

I was walking up the stairs to my fourth floor apartment and noticed that there was a man following me. I heard him before I saw him as he was continuously speaking Spanish. I was very frightened and tried talking softly to him but he kept speaking Spanish and sounded crazy. I think he was asking me about where a store was located, but I could not answer him because I did not speak Spanish. I let him know that, as I inched away from him. Then suddenly he grabbed me and I let out a soft scream. He kept holding on to me, when fortunately for me, someone in the building opened their door and he let me go. I ran outside as fast as I could! I ran around the corner and kept looking in back of me to see if he was following me.. I never saw him again but I was very shaken up!

I do not remember if I ever told my mother about him or, perhaps, I told a friend or older sister and I will ask her later when I speak to her..

Why, you may ask, did I refrain from telling my mother? because my mother had too many things to do and I never wanted to bother her with my problems. I just lived with that fear all my life!

There was another time, when I was coming home from school and again got grabbed from the back, by another Spanish speaking person, while I was using my key to open up my grandmother’s apt,. so, I screamed and luckily, he ran away!

What was so strange about this event was that I was attending college in those days, and was studying psychology, and all I kept thinking about , after this event, was how I wondered about what had happened in his family to make him a person who wanted to hurt or rape a woman??That was my thought. It was not about me but about him! I cant remember if I ever told anyone about this event. I will tell you that I was always a little afraid of me!

I never got help for any of these events but I do wonder what I would be like if I had gotten help. I think those two events certainly had an affect on me and made me a very anxious person as I was growing up!

If anything like this ever happens to you or to a friend, God forbid, please tell a guard or policemen but certainly your parents! Don’t delay!

Written by: Sondra

Over my very long life I’ve had the opportunity to interact with a few famous people from Madeleine Albright to Jonathon Winters. Veronica Lake was the first and most memorable. Here’s why. I’m about 10 when my parents spotted her two rows in front of us at the Dog Show in Madison Square Garden. They were excited. I’m not getting it. They explain, she’s a Hollywood star from the golden age of hollywood. A femme Fatale with her famous Peek a boo hair. “See how it falls over her right eye.” I see. As she bumps and bobs up and down screaming for her favorite pooch while sucking on a silver flask. Her star had fallen. She’s now just a drunk disrupting the show. We watched as security walked her to the exit.

Written by: Diane

The Most Famous Person I Ever Met Was…

Sure, I have been in audiences where well known singers, actors, or comedians have performed. But, I never actually met any of them. However, the most famous person I ever met and spent some quality time with is probably only well known in the Chicagoland Jewish community or at Chicago State U University. I am talking about the retired chairman of the geography department and a founding member of the Jewish Historical Society, Dr. Irving Cutler.

I know Dr. Cutler from participating in several of his well-known bus tours. The first one was when my oldest daughter was seven, and we took the “Chicago Jewish Roots” bus tour. Since that time I have taken several of his wonderful tours and have heard him speak at events and meetings. For many years, his lovely wife would be on board distributing her delicious homemade cookies. I think the last tour I took was about 8 or 9 years ago. We visited Chicago’s south side neighborhoods which had been home to a flourishing Jewish community in the 1940’s-late1960’s.

Dr. Cutler is also known for writing several books. The ones that I have are The Jews of Chicago- From Shtetl to Suburb and Jewish Chicago – A Pictorial History. I am proud to share that on page 49 of this book is a picture of my great-uncle’s store “Fine’s Quality Meats” on Morse Ave. in Rogers Park. Above the butcher shop is a sign on a 2nd floor window advertising “Joseph Fine and Co. Insurance” owned by another great uncle. He had chosen to have his business above his brother’s store.

But, I really had a chance to get to know Dr. Cutler in the summer of 2008 when we were both on a bus tour of the Shakespeare Festival in New York and Canada lead by Rabbi Herbert Bronstein of North Shore Congregation Israel. During this 5 day period I spent a considerable amount of time talking with and learning about Chicago Jewish history from Dr. Cutler.

The Most Famous Person My Oldest Daughter Ever Met…

It was before the start of the fall semester, and she was studying for her MBA. She had recently become a bride. It was time to sign up for the next set of classes, and she was determined to get into the class that Oprah Winfrey would be teaching. My daughter was sitting by her computer as were countless other students waiting for registration to open.Then it was “off to the races”; whomever could point and click the fastest would get a seat in Oprah’s class. She must have clicked a nanosecond faster than the next guy because was rewarded with one of the coveted seats. Sometime, near the beginning of the fall semester, my daughter was on the 10:00 news being interviewed on her opinion of having Oprah as a teacher. After seeing my daughter on the 10 o’clock news, I sent out an email to friends and family. In the subject line of the mail, I wrote, “Oprah and the New Mrs. W.”

Written by: Diane

The worst weather I ever experienced was… the Chicago blizzard of 1967 which dropped 23 inches of snow from January 26-27.

It was my junior year at Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa. I had two final exams ‘to go’, and then I was supposed to go home for semester break. My parents called me and told me not to come home because of a predicted ‘whopper’ of a snowstorm. Being very stubborn, I replied that there was no way I was going to stay in the sorority house by myself (which may not have been true) with nothing to do. So I boarded the train in Des Moines on Thursday morning and noticed very little snow.

The train was packed with other students traveling home to small towns in Iowa and Illinois before arriving in Chicago. I remember picking up even more students from Grinnell and Iowa City. I don’t remember what time we arrived at Union Station or how many hours we were behind schedule. I know it was late afternoon or early evening. I found a pay phone and called home. My parents had a garage with a very long driveway which had not yet been shoveled. They told me there was no way they could pick me up at Union Station. I should find a cab and get dropped off at my uncles’ store on Devon Ave. So I did what I was told. My uncle (I forget which one) drove me to the end of the block on Crawford Ave. in Lincolnwood. He could not chance getting stuck on a side street. So, I trudged up the block to our house. By late Friday or Saturday, the streets had been plowed and driving was nearly normal. Yes, my parents were angry with me at first because they were worried. It could have been a lot worse! The train could have been delayed for many hours or stranded throughout the night somewhere in the middle of nowhere. I think I was in Chicago for a total of 5 or 6 days. By the time I headed back to Des Moines, the weather seemed almost back to normal.

Written By: Renee

Hi, yes it was living in Chicago. I still have photos of the time it snowed for days and the snow piled high up against the windows for days. I wasn’t much a driver then but I drove in the snow once it stopped, picked a child up, backed out of the driveway and then went into a ditch! I think I helped myself out by shoveling and rocking the car back and forth to get out!

The other bad snow I remember was on New Years’ Eve, one year. It snowed so hard (again we lived in Riverwoods) and I had guests over for New Years’ Eve. The snow never stopped and it was two am so I gave them blankets and pillows, and told them all to sleep over and I went to bed. One friend kept calling her daughters up and asking if they were ok without her. I am still friends with her, she is an Israeli, who later divorced her husband after living together with him in Las Vegas for a number of years)

Another guy, Larry Hacker the pharmacist, had to go to work so we woke up early, Matt used his snow blower and with everyone helping, we were able to get him out so he could go to work! (We no longer speak to the Hackers! We were once great friends!)

Life moves on!

I had bad weather living in NYC too, but living in Chicago, it was cold, windy and snowy!

I love Chicago and have many good memories of bringing up my children there but life was hard there and winters tough.

Once, when I had just moved there, I decided to drive myself to a cooking class. I came out, it was foggy and I could not see outside. I was young, terrified , when I saw other drivers going so fast. This was on Arlington Heights road and I was very scared but I made it home. I was so upset and told grandpa and he screamed at me for being so emotional! Would you believe?? He too was young, and had to understand that it was ok to be scared and that he should have been more supportive of me!

Hopefully, you will live through bad days and come out strong ! You never want to be weak!

Love you, grand mom Renee

Written by: Doria

The worst weather I ever experienced was during my first camping and canoe trip. It was the summer of 1979 and my husband of only six months and and were meeting his childhood friends and their son at the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal National Park in Maryland. Being somewhat of a city girl with no previous experience with either camping or canoeing, I looked forward to the trip with a nervous excitement.

The bright morning sun greeted us as we prepared for our canoe trip down the Potomac River. After a few instructions, we set off paddling leisurely, pausing occasionally to admire the sights and sounds of t our surroundings. A loud sound in the distance caught our attention. Could that be thunder? These were the days before cell phones and weather apps. With only the sky to check for weather conditions we continued to paddle under the blue and sunny sky.

All of the sudden, the sky turned dark. Heavy clouds opened and dumped sheets of rain so thick we couldn’t see our hands in front of our faces. The river water swelled and swirled around us. The angry thunder rumbled and the lighting streaked across the sky causing me to shudder. As a child, I would have pulled the covers tightly over my head to hid from a storm. But in a canoe where does one hide? I was hysterically. I knew we would either drown or be struck by lighting. We managed to paddle an embankment and climb to some cover under trees. We weren’t any safer there than in the canoe! I was sure we were going to die! My husband keeping his wits about him began to pray. His earnest voice praying for God’s protection and his strong arms holding brought a calmness to me.

The lesson I learned from this experience is when the sudden storms of life blind you and fear grips you, God is only a prayer away.

Written by: Anonymous

The worst storm I ever experienced was the major snow storm in the Chicago area of December 31/January 1 of 1978/79. We had a 6-month old son and were invited to a NewYear’s party by a friend; fortunately we decided not to go. Our two older children were spending their winter holiday with my parents in Canada (they were old enough to fly by themselves) and my husband and I wanted a quiet New Year’s celebration of our own.

The snow started in the late evening and by morning, everyone was snowed in. It took my husband hours to clear the sidewalk – there is a picture of him pulling my son on the sled – the piles of snow on the sidewalk are above my husband’s head. He didn’t even try to clean off the car; we couldn’t get anywhere in any case – the streets were full of snow drifts. I remember days later driving by parking lots that had been empty and were now piled with snow that had been cleared off the streets – there was no place else to put the snow. Those who went to the party were snowed in and unexpectedly had to spend the night.

Written by: Susan

I had two wedding days. My first wedding day in 1964 was memorable because my sister in law and mother had a major disagreement over table settings and placement. My sister in law Celia didn’t like where her table was so she started to change the table numbers around so that she was in the front and my grandmother and aunts and uncles were no where near my parents. I should have taken that as an ominous sign, but I didn’t. Go know.

My second wedding on January 1,1990 was memorable for a very different reason. Bruce and I were getting married under a tallis that was being held up attached to poles decorated with flowers and held up by our children. My son David had spent New Year’s Eve in Brooklyn with friends and was supposed to arrive in NJ on the 11:00 train. The phone rang at 11:00 and Bruce said, “I’m leaving now.”

“No” said David. “I’m still in Brooklyn!”

“You’re where?” I screamed. The wedding is supposed to start at 1:00. “OK, do you have a key to the house?” “Yes” responded David. “OK-I’ll leave the key to the car under the floor mat.” Then off we went.

David coerced a cab driver to drive him to NJ. He didn’t have money on him but he did in the house. Needless to say, he didn’t have a key to the house. He called again and Bruce told him where to get a key.

Bruce’s nephew was holding up David’s end of the tallis as we were just getting ready to walk down the aisle. David stumbled in and switched places with Michael. At least he didn’t fall and the ceremony went off without a hitch.

As Bruce and I walked down the aisle and the doors opened up we were face to face with friends who got the time wrong for the start of the ceremony. Their startled faces were memorable. But the wedding party was fabulous and every person that came danced the whole day.

Written by: Renee

Wow ! so long ago. I have a picture of the young me all fixed up -my hair up! Later, I remember my mother looking at me at the wedding and for the first time, my mother said out loud” isn’t she beautiful?”. (She may have said pretty but I never heard anyone ever say that to me before.) I was the smart one not the pretty daughter. Later on, when people say cute or pretty I don’t believe them. In my family it was Roz, my sister, who was the beauty !

I was shy and scared but the place we chose to marry was the best choice. We were married in an Israeli restaurant in Manhattan. We had about 75 people and had a ceremony by a Rabbi who was funny, an Israeli guy signed on as witness. I came down the aisle and met matt the guy who would be your grandfather for many years. We watched an Israeli show, had great food and then went off to the Holiday inn -which did not accept our reservations,. Then we went to another one and there I was . I was now married and could be intimate for the first time. I was very scared. Yes I was a virgin.

It hurt and I did not enjoy anything! We had difficulties with that over the years and until recently I discovered that I might have a problem now called “vaginitis” ??-I discovered this while watching the movie Unorthodox. She had problems too!

I never told anyone I had these problems. I hurt during sexual activity but I was happy that I had an understanding husband . He was ready all the time to engage and I agreed although it was not always bad and it was not usually satisfying. I felt that that was not an important part of marriage for matt was the best husband esp. since he provided well and did not stop my desire to work. If anything he encouraged me to get babysitters. I was against that (even using credit cards) because I never had one and thought I should be taking care of my own children.

My mother was my model. She was fierce in her values and always said “ not my children” – they would not have sex before marriage, nor take drugs, nor anything that was immoral or illegal. We all complied ! I think! Mostly , the girls !

I never asked my siblings but I do know my younger brothers had more fun in away colleges. I never went away to college.

So, after the first night at the holiday Inn we were off to Israel. We had a wonderful three weeks In Israel walking everywhere by ourselves. We also bought souvenirs for everyone. By the third week I told matt ( who was very upset with me)that I was bored. It was sunny every day, I liked changes in weather (September 5-25 1968 ,very hot because of a chamseen) and I was ready to go home and find a job. I wasn’t a person who enjoyed too much fun!

I also told him I was ready to stay forever. I loved visiting Israel! I loved being there and have always been committed to this most welcome place for Jews.! I believed at the time that none of my friends had such a wonderful honeymoon as we did!)

Perhaps your parents did!

The rest is history! We’ve had a rough ride in our marriage but I feel God gave me the right person!

I hope you choose well too! Kindness and respect and love are the most important values to look for! Generosity is next to godliness ! that helps too!

Love grandma

Written by: Doria

On my wedding day almost forty-three years ago; I married my best friend. The friend I confided in and shared my hopes and dreams with.

The friend I wanted to raise children with and grow old with. Our wedding was a not large, fancy or expensive but it was the one we both desired. The songs You Light Up My Life and Lady were selected to represent our deep love and commitment to each other. We each wrote our vows and fondly recall hearing my husband’s mother whisper, “He forgot his vows” as he drew a small folded paper from his suit pocket. My husband later confessed that he had been quite nervous.

As a symbolic gesture of our lives joining we invited our parents to join hands with us in the front of the church. In the photograph of that circle my new-in laws are looking so loving at each other that one would think they were the newlywed couple.

Our evening wedding was attended by our families and close friends and was held in the church where we had been worshiping. When the tradition Wedding March was played, I was escorted down the aisle on the arm of my father, who had flown in from Texas for the occasion. My dress was a white long-sleeved ankle length eyelet. The dress had been loving sewn by my sister. In my hand I carried a bouquet of my favorite flowers, daisies. My hair was also adorned with a crown of daisies.

Following the ceremony, a small reception was held at my Mother’s house. Our wedding cake was adorned with a kissing Precious Moments couple. (which we still have) As we left the reception for our mountain honeymoon, a light snow began to fall. Later looking at photographs of our leaving; it was difficult to distinguish the tossed white rice from the small snowflakes falling.

Written by: Diane

On My Son’s Wedding Day…

On June 15, 1969, I was married in a traditional Jewish ceremony at the Pick Congress Hotel in Chicago. Both of my daughters were also married in Chicago in traditional Jewish ceremonies in 1999 and 2001. However, my son’s wedding in 2006 in Honolulu was anything but traditional. Skimming through some of his wedding pictures today confirms that.

Boy met girl when he was living in San Diego after college, and she was living in Florida. They were introduced by her friend who was engaged to one of his closest friends. Several trips on his part to Florida cemented their relationship. When she received a job offer in Honolulu, he packed his bags and followed her there and found a job.

I do not remember at what point they became engaged, but it was not too long after they moved there. Because they were living in Hawaii, their wedding was to take place there. It was not a destination wedding for them, but it was for everyone else. The wedding was scheduled for April 23. Since that year Passover would end two days after I arrived, that meant traveling there during Passover. Because I keep strictly kosher for Passover, I was very fortunate that there is a Chabad in Waikiki near where we were staying. Two of my close friends also attended the wedding; one from Albuquerque and one from Maryland. They joined me for meals at Chabad until the end of Passover.

There were close to 80 people at the wedding; the great majority were family and friends from out-of town. Since there were very few in-town guests, everyone attended the rehearsal dinner the evening before as well as the wedding. Since the groom was Jewish and and the bride was Catholic, a big decision was deciding on the officiant. They both finally decided to ask the bride’s uncle who had been a priest. He applied for a certificate online and was to marry them in a secular ceremony.

The wedding was held on the western side of the island in a beautiful park. The weather was perfect so the ceremony was outside, and the dinner was under a large tent. The bride wore a beautiful straight white dress (not a traditional wedding gown), and the groom wore a white shirt and white pants. Everyone was given a colorful Hawaiian lei before the ceremony. The officiant conducted a secular ceremony where the couple exchanged vows and read some Hawaiian poetry.  He had brought a glass, and the groom put it under his foot and broke it. This is part of a traditional Jewish ceremony. During times of joy we should not forget the tragedies that have fallen the Jewish people. The bride and groom danced to the Hawaiian version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow. At one point, the couple and a few others went down to the beach. The groom found a stick and wrote in the sand Chrissy +Jeremy and drew a heart around it.

Four months after the wedding they made a surprising announcement to the delight of all of us. They would be moving back to San Diego. We were all thrilled as it is that much closer for all of us to visit. Two years later, my grandson came along, now age 12, and two and a half years after his birth , my granddaughter followed. They continue to make their home in the San Diego area, and up until the time of the start of the pandemic, I had enjoyed many happy visits there a few times each year. I am hoping that, in the not so distant future, I will again be able to travel there again.

Written by: Anonymous

Bar and Bat Mitzvahs are meant to be important and memorable events. One summer a few years ago my daughter’s son was celebrating his Bar Mitzvah and my son’s daughter was celebrating her Bat Mitzvah. They were born a year and approximately a month apart, in the summer, so we decided we would have a combination celebration in Israel. My husband being Israeli, his family could be included as well.

My husband and I had sold a very successful company not too many years before and were able to spend however much it would take to make this happen.  We had family travel from Canada, the U.S. and England. We took rooms for everyone at the same hotel in Tel Aviv and I hired one of my nephews, who had settled in Israel and was a licensed tour guide, to take the 20 or so people on tours throughout the time we were in Israel. My son’s in-laws obviously had a Bat Mitzvah granddaughter so they were included in all our plans for the few days that we were together – before and after everyone was on his own.

The Bar and Bat Mitzvah were held on a week day so that there was no problem with getting back and forth, and were held in the synagogue built by my in-laws in honor of their parents; my husband and I had contributed a large rendering to the synagogue of the 10 Commandments.

The “after-ceremony” party was in the lovely basement, with a lovely buffet lunch and a band with much dancing and enjoyment.

With so many of my nieces and nephews who hadn’t seen each other in years, and children from the in-laws who had never really interacted that much (they lived in the a different state in the U.S., and many hadn’t even met) , the whole family got to really know each other, to enjoy each other’s company, and to have an experience of a lifetime.

One of the nieces-on-law made a scrapbook of the photos she collected as a momento for my husband and me. Memories that always bring a smile to my face.

Written by: Doria

My favorite quote is from the book The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have been carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop off, and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

The book, The Velveteen Rabbit was given to me as an eighth grade graduation gift. I read and reread that book more than a dozen times. At the time, I was a quiet teen that lacked confidence. A teen that viewed herself as ugly. A teen who desperately wanted to fit in, to be accepted. I empathized with Rabbit’s impatient desire to become real, to become loved.

Looking back, I view the quote as a metaphor for my life. There were “breaking” experiences in my life-my father’s alcoholism, physical and verbal abuse, my parent’s divorce. These experiences could have left me sharp edged and bitter. I rather choose to believe that all experiences either in childhood or adulthood whether good or bad allowed me to become real, to become me, to become loved.

At sixty-one years of age, my hair is thinning, I wear glasses, my back aches and my body is no longer fit and trim. (was it ever?) I am however, confident in my realness. I am confident in the love of my husband, our four married children, their spouses, and thirteen grandchildren! Becoming real, becoming You does take time but it is all worth it! “

“Once you are real you can’t become unreal again. It can’t be taken away. It lasts forever.” The Velveteen Rabbit and Margery Williams

Written by: Renee

Good morning lovely readers, I love poetry and rarely read it. No time…like music…no time.. (You would think during a 2020 pandemic I would have all the time in the world. Not with teaching students most of the week. Its only part time)

I need the time to do more important things like read the paper, wash, clothes and myself, shop and cook the dinner, call family… anyway, so my favorite poet is Robert Frost. He wrote the poem “two roads I’ve travelled, and I chose the one less traveled by”.

This poem reminds me that people make choices and live by them. Later, they may question their own choices. (Did I do the right thing? Sometimes one wonders whether the best road was taken…)

Decisions are always there to be made so listen mull them over them and then go for them and do not look back!

For me, I think I made good decisions in my life., but not all.

When I was about fifteen, my grandmother needed help and I chose to move downstairs to help her.. Many years went by. I finished college and wanted my own place in which no one would tell me what to do.

Then my sister, Vivian, took over helping her.

I moved to my own apartment for over a year, living with a girl that I didn’t know. My first bad choice! After moving out, I finally agreed to marry grandpa, leave my job all in September of 1968.

So, one bad choice can lead to other choices.. At the time, I also had a job working as a counselor for the NYS narcotics commission, working for a narcotics agency.

I decided to explore different jobs in teaching but by getting married then, I could not get a permanent job. Instead, I had to take a temporary job teaching. That led me to my first full time job teaching in the elementary school in which I had attended. ( I still have the letter written to me by my principal on what a great teacher I was!)

The big choice was when grandpa said we were moving to Chicago. I never questioned it. Was I wrong to go along with him? (In those days women did not question. Most just followed. I was the follower but I really missed my family and friends left behind.)

By my agreeing to move to Chicago my children developed and matured in a place that was unknown to me.(I felt that I went from a poor girl from anonymous Manhattan to a middle class life in a suburban area of Chicago where everyone knew each other’s business. It was not easy for me to fit in…

So, of the two roads I could have taken, I could have moved to New Jersey (ugh!) or to Queens, where my siblings live now, or Long Island (ugh!).. I took the road less traveled by my friends and family , and ended up living in Chicago! What a great, but cold, city !

and that s how you were born in Chicago.. but by then, we had already moved on to Maryland. Again for another job!

Was this a good move , I wonder? Yes, its political and exciting here, its diverse, it’s warmer, but certainly not friendlier!

When making choices in life, don’t just follow the crowd ( My friends honeymooned in the Caribbean, while we went to Israel. My friends chose their husbands for money, for love, for kindness, etc…while I chose grandpa for his intelligence, love and kindness. Make smart choices and whatever happens do not look back. Always move forward!

Love you very much..

I am still would like to buy a condo and move near you. Dad does not allow me to make that choice! Why can’t I do it on my own??

Love, Grand ma.

Written by: Sondra

My favorite quote is, “Life Is Not A Rehearsal”. I don’t remember where I saw or heard it. It’s become the motto I lived by for most of my life. Live life to the fullest because you can’t do it again. There’s no rewind. I’m in the habit of repeating this often to all who’ll listen. Notably my youngest grown child who inherited the cheap gene from his dad.

“You never know when you’ll need those worn out boots, rusty nails, broken chair and ball of string”. Like never. I would say. But Dad saved them and much more just in case. Our basement, over the years came to be called, the basement of plenty, by my sons. If you need a replacement or tools to fix it’s all down there. Dad preached his own mantra “Moneys for Investing”. No wine when dining out, We’ll have a glass before. Dining out was a big treat for our family but only if there was a special. Soft drinks were also a treat but never to be ordered with ice. My hubby’s desire was to amass a large amount of money to live off and enjoy living in his late life. Unfortunately late life never came for him and he had no pockets in his coffin to enjoy the fruits of his labors in the promised land.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not preaching spend it all and go into dept. Just put some play money aside to enjoy. Money you can afford to lose and your lifestyle won’t change. How to start, you ask? Don’t get a new car every few years. Cars of today last a long time. Don’t buy so many adult toys that are updated every year. How many designer handbags do you need with the designers name prominently placed for all to see. I’m always tempted to buy a plastic knockoff and label it “Walmart” or misspell the designers name. Do you think anyone would notice? ]

Don’t be that old person finally going on a cruise being wheeled around and on oxygen. Only to die alone heading across the pond. Figure out how to enjoy it when you’re healthy enough to do so. Make a plan. Stick to it and remember “You Only Go Around Once”.

PS No charge for this learned advice.

Written by: Diane

My favorite quote is ………

My thoughts on this topic are not about my favorite quote but are about quotes that I have often used, with so many of them being about birds. I don’t know why birds seem to dominate quotes in the English language, but I have thought of four that I have used over and over. Birds are beautiful creatures and are represented in various forms throughout the Jewish religion and are a notable part of Jewish life and culture. There is a symbolic importance of these creatures to Jewish writers and poets. Today, being the first day of Chanukah, I listened to a new Chanukah song called the Dreidel Bird by a group called the Macaroons.

Killing two birds with one stone is one that I have used over the years. It really is a terrible quote because who would want to kill even one of these lovely creatures with a stone, let alone two. However, this expression represents efficiency or resourcefulness. It means that one can achieve two tasks with a single action. You can go to the grocery store, and on the way there, you can also drop off your cleaning. You can buy a box of baking soda to use in a cake, and you will find a dozen other uses for this product written on the box. Riding your bike to work will save you gas and parking money and at the same time give you the benefit of fresh air and exercise. I love to walk several miles each day, and at the same time, I enjoy listening to audio books on my phone.

When I was growing up, my parents and other older family members would say Birds of a feather should flock together. They may have been saying that I should only have Jewish friends. There is a tendency to want to spend time with people who are similar to us or share similar interests. But, nowadays we stress the importance of diversity and having friends from different cultures and even different age groups.

Take the phrase, the early bird catches the worm. The idea behind the expression is that the birds who wake up the earliest have the best chance of catching the worms. For example, I and thousands of others, were offered free Covid tests near my home, but it was on a first come, first served basis. So I arrived at the testing site one hour before it opened. I was number 39 in line so I was guaranteed a test, and it was completed within one hour and a half. Similarly, If you need to renew your driver’s license, you might also go there way before opening.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush- It is better to hang onto something that you already have rather than to attempt to obtain something better. A good example is gambling or playing the stock market. If you have something solid, it might be best to hold onto it rather than to gamble and risk losing it.

Again, I do not know why so many quotes about these beautiful feathered creatures abound in our vocabulary, but they do remain a definite part of our life and culture.

Written by: Anonymous

Hi, Here I am stuck inside my wonderful house, in the middle of a PANDEMIC, thinking of how fortunate I am at 74 years old to remain being a teacher to young ones and old people. I never thought I’d be able to take the knowledge of youth and use if for others-the young and old. I now teach Hebrew to a woman at a nursing home and she studies the Hebrew books all day! My students barely look at them while she reads and studies in her one room in a nursing home.

And when she said I wish I could have a Bat mitzvah I reacted by saying you will have one next October. I surprised myself by saying and doing what she asked for!

I never considered myself an activist but I knew I would always help others perhaps even before helping myself. I am grateful that God gave me years, my mother’s sensibility and concern for others, and the knowledge to pass on to the young and elderly.

Who knew that I’d still be alive at this age? ( My dad died at this age and I physically take after him ) but here I am covid free taking another colonoscopy which did not show anything terrible! I am so grateful for my health, my desire to help when others are in need! And the money!

I think back to other times I helped the students at FLOC and decided to organize the prom for them. I still think about those students and hope some are alive although it was over 3o years ago!

I am grateful to have the two of you in my life ! I am sorry we are so far away from you but I am grateful that I am able to see you both on facetime and that your mom allows me to see you( not as often as I wish) but she is so busy.

She does not realize that you two make our world soo much happier seeing your faces and watching how you are both growing up to be smart and beautiful!

I am beginning to realize that God gives you things and hopes you will use your gifts to make this world better!

You can be those kinds of people in your life. Please use all your talents to make the world better.

Written by: Linda

I tend to be an optimist, the bright side is always the one I would rather choose.  So, when remote learning began for my two extraordinary granddaughter, Leah and grandson, Tyler…I was ready to put on my teaching shoes (though they had been music teacher Sketchers!) and get back to work. To say I am grateful for the pandemic is ludicrous, but I am grateful for the opportunity the pandemic afforded me, to sit with these amazing little ones and watch them learn to read, write stories, and do math. We had great discussions during breaks, played games during recess, and really learned about each other on a one on one basis that would rarely be done with their busy daily schedules.   We picked out new books on my iPad to read during independent reading, we sounded out words and the best was going on Grammy’s computer and finding a biography of someone they were interested in, and we read together, alternating paragraphs. I brought secrets treats( favorite gum and crystal light squeezers) and we always ended with waist high hugs.

This forever/educational bond would never have been possible without remote learning.  My grandchildren have incredible teachers, who put on a Broadway show everyday…their patience and resourcefulness is amazing. The ability to help just a little makes me grateful for my teacher skills once again. I am proud to have been teacher for 27 years, but never prouder to have been a “remote learning Grammy”!

Written by: Diane

It was not one issue or one experience or even one event that drove me to action but rather a gradual pivot toward social justice that did not come about until I was in my 50’s.

I retired from the Chicago Public Schools in 2007. Each year before as a counselor, I introduced the 7th and 8th graders to issues in their community by exposing them to social justice activities several times each school year. We volunteered at a hospital and nursing homes, learned about hate crimes from a community activist and met positive role models; adults who had grown up in the neighborhood and were giving back to the community and making a difference.

Several years after retiring, I trained at the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center to become a docent. I was thrilled to learn that I could also work with the younger children ( grades 3-6) in a different part of the museum that was dedicated to hands-on, interactive activities that teach children to become upstanders, to take a stand against injustice, and to make a positive difference in the lives of others. Before the start of the pandemic, I gave several of these tours a month and gleaned much satisfaction and inspiration from working with these young people.

Last November 2019, I went on one of the most important journeys of my life. I am not sure what initially drove me to take this trip. I had traveled with this tour company before, the available dates were good, the cost reasonable and I had a credit from a previously canceled trip. So, I signed up.

It was a 10 day trip following the path of the Civil Rights Movement. We frequented the many museums which showcased this period of time in history, and we heard from people who had lived through it as teens or young adults. We crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma. We learned about the vast injustices of the time. It was heartbreaking, emotional and an inspirational immersion into the 1950’s and 1960’s of the south. I was moved by the many personal stories I heard. It turned out to be an ‘eye opener’ and one of the most important trips that I have ever taken.

I was proud of all of the positive Jewish influences of the time. Rabbi Perry Nussbaum was a Reform Rabbi who in the 1950’s and 60’s was an important voice for racial justice in Mississippi. It was estimated that close to one third of the freedom rider’s were Jewish.

The increase in racial injustice and white supremacy that we have seen in the past 5 years is staggering. The violence against African Americans and anti-semitic attacks are on the rise. The massacre in Charleston, Unite the Right rally in Charlottsville, and the mass shooting at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh are examples of the hatred that is taking place all over the country.

What kind of action have I taken in the last year ?

I have attended a vigil organized by Black Lives Matter and attended a Walk Around the Skokie Courthouse in memory of one of the greatest proponents of social justice, RBG, at the conclusion of her shloshim period. Next week, I will be delivering Chanukah packages to the homebound so that they will be able to take part in the mitzvah of lighting a Chanukiyah. I have donated food and other supplies to food pantries. I have contributed money to all kinds of causes, including some organizations for the very first time. Just yesterday, I bought boxes of pink Chanukah candles to give as gifts. A portion of the cost will be donated to an organization that educates and helps young Jewish women afflicted with breast cancer.

But, I know that I have not done nearly enough and that there is so much more to do! I will continue to do what I can during the pandemic and, hopefully, will be able to expand my interest in helping social issues when this pandemic finally ends!

Written by: Name not given

I’m not one who likes to be in the limelight. Also there are so many social issues that it would be very difficult for me to identify, any particular one to concentrate on. And I do have mobility issues.

I do have the ability to FUND, to a degree, activities that meet needs that I identify with or have been involved in My husband passed away from pulmonary fibrosis; I am partially funding a research project involved in discovering ways to identify this deadly disease early and treat it more effectively – perhaps even stop its progression or cure it.

I am funding a new “ATV ambulance” for the Magen David Adom so that emergency workers can access people, mainly the elderly, who live in the old buildings, mainly Jerusalem, with narrow, stone stairwells.

I support organizations that preserve the environment and I had solar panels installed on my very sunny roof in order to be less dependent in fossil fuels.

I am sure to recycle everything possible, and I purchase large containers of liquid to refill the smaller ones so that I’m not throwing out, or even putting into recycling, the many smaller containers that would otherwise have to be disposed of.

My somewhat activist and environmentally-aware kids are proud of me.

Written by: Doria

My favorite Thanksgiving tradition growing up was the bowing of heads and the holding of hands around the large elbow to elbow table at my Grandma’s house. All voices were hushed as one of my father’s brothers lead the family in a prayer of Thanksgiving.

Following the prayer, the golden browned turkey would be presented for “oohs” and “aah” before carving. Then bowls and platters heaped with family favorites were passed around the table. Each one politely scooping just enough on their plates. Chatters of conversation would be held between bites of piping hot and delicious food. There was always the harmless teasing of “the prayer was so long I thought the food would get cold.”

After everyone had their fill, the clearing of the table would begin with everyone pitching in. Plates were scraped and stacked on the kitchen table. Leftovers if there were any were stored in bowls for the late night raids on the refrigerator by my Uncles.

The washing of dishes at my Grandma’s house after a holiday meal was a procedure that ran like a well-oiled machine. One of us would be stationed at the formica table piled with dirty dishes. Grandma would be stationed at the sink filled with hot sudsy water. Someone would be stationed at the sink next to her ready to rinse. Dirty dishes would be handed to Grandma to wash. Next they would handed over to be rinsed and place on drain board. From the drainboard dishes would be picked up to be throughly dried. Next, they passed down the line that formed from the tiny kitchen to the dining room. Another family member would be stationed there to carefully put them away in the wooden buffet. No one every seemed to mind being part of the washing procedure as conversation and laughter continued throughout.

It seemed just as the last dishes were hidden away that the coffee would be brewing and the desserts of homemade pumpkin and minced meat pies would displayed invitingly atop the buffet. During dessert the highlight of the evening would be our Uncles entertaining my sisters with the tale of Prinderella and the Crince a mixed up version of Cinderella complete with voices.

Written by: Name not given

My favorite Thanksgiving tradition growing up was . . . enthusiasm within the house among the five members of my family. . . my Mom, Dad, younger sister and older brother, all focused around what was happening in the kitchen. The kitchen was primarily the heart of our home, no matter where we were living. I consider myself incredibly fortunate that my Mom was a good cook and baker. As I grew up, I took all that good food for granted. It wasn’t until I was married, that I learned that not all households were like mine in that area.

For my husband and I, and later on our son, I carried forward the tradition of carefully planned dinners, prepared from scratch every evening, when I returned home from work. My husband was always appreciative, but I didn’t think too much about that being unusual, until we had a casual dinner at his parent’s home. He warned me that his Mom was a terrible cook, and I said I couldn’t imagine how anyone could be that bad a cook. That is a story for another time!

Thanksgiving is kind of like the Olympics of cooking, repeated every year with great fanfare and warm and cozy tradition. It was the turkey itself that brings forth the fondest memories. Nothing rivals the rich aromas that emanated from the oven, growing stronger as the hours wore on. It was actually after the turkey came out of the oven, prepared with great attention by my Mom, that all attention turned to my Dad and the challenge of carving the beautifully browned, massive bird. My Dad relished this job and I can’t tell you where that urge came from, but he became a master carver. I would stand and watch him as he put on his apron, (not too proud to wear one, in a time before women’s and men’s liberation) and take his tools to the carving board. He was masterful in turning out perfectly sliced white meat, and carefully and skillfully separating the legs and wings, to be served to the dark meat lovers in the family. That was namely my grandfather on my mother’s side, who lived with us for 8 years after my grandmother passed away.

Perhaps because I took a career turn, after college, and trained as a Chef that I was the one in our family to take on the role of turkey carver later in my own nuclear family. Once my Dad was gone from our lives, it became my role to carve the Thanksgiving turkey and I proudly attack it every year with a bit of apprehension, but a very close feeling to my beloved father. Thanksgiving remains one of my most favorite holidays, and I think my Dad would be proud – at least I hope so!!

Written by: Name not given

Hi, My favorite one was with all of us together in Texas in 2014 when we ate together in Boerne, on the ranch, and my family and friends arrived for your parents wedding. (All the people I loved were together in one place.)

We had both a Thanksgiving dinner and a wedding to go to.

My two close friends /couples came from Maryland and I was so happy to show them around the ranch. It felt funny that a poor person like myself made it to spend time at a ranch in Texas and my poor relatives from all over came together for this special event-the wedding which is now six years ago!
I have so happy but scared because Shari had not gotten a break with other guys and I did not want her to be hurt again. (that explains why I never smiled in those wedding pictures.)

I was very happy to be with your Texas side of the family. They are the most wonderful people I have encountered in a long time. The family and friends together were warm and friendly.
(They had all made or brought food and there was always too much esp. for a kosher person like me and ,also, I’m a small eater. )

I hope you grow up to enjoy many more thanksgivings at the Ranch in Boerne ,Texas once this pandemic is over!

It is also true that over the years we have usually not returned to Boerne for Thanksgiving because Brett had decided not to join us there and stu, still remains in Chicago. We are always caught being trying to make everyone happy and then we do not make any one person happy, except maybe uncle Brett.

I hope we can make new memories in the future and that we can be tighter next Thanksgiving!
What is your favorite memory of Thanksgiving? I hope it includes us with you while you visit your family in Texas!

Written by: Name not given

Being born and raised in Canada and moving to the U.S. only after being married, we never did Thanksgiving at our house although we were sometimes invited to a friend’s; it was just another day off work for us. However once we had children who went to school and learned about American Thanksgiving, how could I ignore it?

Butr I made one small adjustment – we had our Thanksgiving feast Erev Shabbat. I explained that I would not be cooking a large meal two nights in a row!

So even though I didn’t serve turkey (chicken instead), we had a more special meal than usual that Shabbat and had pumpkin pie for dessert. When she was single and living far from family, my daughter would have a Thanksgiving feast and invite”orphans” who were also far from their families, As she grew older and had a family, she had the traditional dinner with the family, which included me, and some friends she invited.

My daughter-in-law, however; liked my idea and she now has their traditional Thanksgiving dinner Erev Shabbat.

Written by: Diane

The home that I remembered most from my childhood was the home we lived in from the time I was eight until I was a sophomore in college.

My parents owned half of a corner two-flat building in West Rogers Park on Chicago’s north side.  We lived on the first floor, and my mother’s aunt and uncle owned the 2nd floor apartment. It was a very large 6 room apartment. When one entered the front door, you stood in a long hallway that separated the living room from the dining room. This living room easily held close to 30 people at Passover seders.  We also had a very large dining room that could seat 12 at the table. My parents had a bedroom across from mine with the bathroom located in the hallway. There was a very large kitchen with a separate eating area and a nice size work area. Next to the kitchen was a small room which was meant to be a den but actually became my younger brother’s bedroom. There was a small bathroom near that bedroom, and it was situated by the back door of the apartment.

In the basement was a finished rec room used by both families and a large utility room with several storage closets. My great-aunt had a wringer washing machine in the utility room.

My bedroom was quite large with the  most notable feature being the mural painted on one of the walls. My mother had hired the artist, Ernest Noack, to paint a mural in the kitchen. (There may have also been one in the living room). At no cost, he painted a mural on my bedroom wall of my first name “Diane”, using a fancy script and a pastel color (possibly lilac), with ribbons surrounding  the name.  Everyone who entered my bedroom commented on the mural. I also had brown walnut furniture with a matching desk on one wall. I remember having a television in my room, probably during high school. I only watched it on Friday nights because I was always too busy doing homework or studying. I had friends who had Princess phones in their bedrooms, and my cousin had a canopy bed, but I did not need or care about any of these items.

The brown walnut furniture lasted for a very long time. After I moved back to the Chicago area in 1977 with my 3 young children, the bedroom set became mine again and moved with us first to an apartment and then to our home. It had served me well for many years!

Written by: Kitty

This was my sanctuary. It’s where I went to think and be alone and listen to my music. My bedroom reflected the era—the 60’s. It was papered with black and white “op-art” wallpaper that made you dizzy when you walked in. I had posters of rock stars on my closet doors and I had a small record player that constantly spun 45 and 33 1/3 rpm vinyl.

It had a Zenith transistor radio in turquoise that would lay under my pillow at night so I could listen to all that great music in the dark. My bedroom was my favorite room in the house.

Written by: Anonymous

It was a shared bedroom and with little room for clothes. I think we might have had a shared chest of drawers and a closet somewhere. I’ve already told you this but Roz and I shared the bed with my feet kicking her since she slept opposite me. We also had one bathroom so if I had to go the the bathroom and I did not have slippers then in the dark I crossed over through the living room to past all the sleeping siblings and into the kitchen where the one bathroom awaited me. I remember having a cat and he was not clawed so at night he attacked my feet and it hurt so badly.( That’s why I do not like cats today.) When I think of how much room you all have I wonder what you would think of my room. If I could only transport you into past life I would show you what our meager life was like. Anyway we grew up to appreciate what we have now and realize that others still do not warm homes and food and loving parents.

Also my mother did not want us to say we are poor. She herself had so little but she knew that we had so much much more than she had. She list her father from kidney disease so she must have felt that loss forever and made the decision not to divorce but to stay with a man who at least could bring some money in..

She was amazing in the way she conserved money and food. As you grow older you should appreciate what you have and be aware and sensitive to those who do not have enough money. Giving your time and money to others is called tzedakah. Remember that Hebrew word which really means “ding the right thing”.

Love you ,
Grand mom

Written by: Diane

Written by: Diane

Written by: Diane

Written by: Doria

Written by: Marcia

I was only 5 in 1947 when an apartment sized previously owned piano arrived at our house at 239 Polson Ave. in Winnipeg.  My proud parents announced I could now take piano lessons.  I cannot recall asking for a piano.

Miss Mary Provisor came to our house each week.  I moved from the beginner books to the Conservatory music. Those Czerny scales were painful.

Five years later at age 10, in our new home on 176 Seven Oaks Ave, I asked for a new teacher so I could play popular music.  Wally Townes appeared in my living room and we went through the chords, theory and sheet music with the oldies from the 30’s and 40’s.  I learnt all the words to those old beautiful songs.

But there was a problem.  I was not practising as much as I should.  This became a battle between my mom and me. If I didn’t want to practise, she would stop the lessons.  However, if I wanted to continue, I would have to pick up the costs of the lessons myself.  Luck would have it.  I checked my night table drawer and found a bundle of dollars from birthday gifts.  Each lesson was $2.00.  I managed to keep going for quite a while.  Somehow I was embarrassed to stop lessons but school homework became the excuse I needed.

So by high school I conveniently left the piano lessons behind.  But I have 2 pieces from those days that I learnt to play very well and played them often when family dropped by.  Bumble Bee Boogie and Deep Purple.  Whenever I hear them played, I think with nostalgia about having reached the heights.  Those songs were not easy to learn and I am proud of myself for persevering to that point.

My daughter took lessons on that piano and so did her kids.  Only Jonah my grand- son loved music so much that he played on that piano for years as well as his guitar, drums and clarinet.

Written by: Renee

I always loved music! We had a piano in my grandmother’s apartment and I used to try playing on it. I was never given lessons because instead I went to Hebrew school. I always regretted not being able to play the piano. When I lived in Chicago I hired a lady to teach me hw to play , around the year 1980,

but she was not a good piano teacher so I dropped out. We have a piano in our house and I always so feel badly that you both live so far away and that you can’t just pop in now and then and try playing on  the piano as I once did!

What I regret is that your mom took lessons and dropped out after five years old! Uncle Brett is the one, like grandpa, have an ear for music and both can hear a tune and play it.

I once took music lessons in elementary school but on the violin. I lasted a year or so because how could one practice in a house full of kids? There was no room in our house for that!

Ask grandpa or Brett to play a tune on our piano next time you visit us.

Also, more importantly, ask your mom to buy a piano and then ask her for piano lessons!

We would be at every piano recital you ever had!

I love to hear music and I know you do too. It makes you happy if you can play the instrument successfully and it makes you happy to listen to beautiful classical music! Let’s talk about that soon!

Written by: Linda

Music lessons were something I adored!  At 7, we moved to a new home and there was no furniture in the living room, except a walnut grand piano that my parents bought for me to take lessons.  Little did I realize that this piano held my future career, as I became a music education major with a piano minor at the University of Illinois.

Practicing was not something that I relished…yet with gentle (and sometimes NOT so gentle) prodding I did the assignments that Mrs. Horowitz, an elegant and phenomenal teacher, would assign each week.  She would sit to the right of the bench and count, correct and compliment.  She came to our house for over ten years and my ability to play is rooted in her tenacity (as well as the oven timer my father used to set as my practice time!).

In junior high, I added singing lessons to my repertoire from Mrs. Goldberg, so that I would be ready to participate in the musicals and choruses in high school. I was asked to accompany the choruses, because of my sight-reading ability.  High school music and theater were the highlights of my tenure at Niles North.

Life at the University of Illinois as a music education major was all encompassing…practicing hours a day, learning theory, participating in choruses and seminars.  Finally, I graduated and brought music to my students and that was truly a labor of love – UNTIL I had grandchildren.

Sitting in their rocker, I recalled the first lullaby I sang, watching my grandchildren’s precious baby faces calm as I sang…those moments were heaven.  Next, I purchased ukuleles and guitars for them to play.  Sitting and working with them – hearing them strum – ANY chord, any melody and any rhythm…well that was a tearjerker too!

While both my adult children have beautiful voices, they did not pursue music careers, however the thing that gives me great joy is listening to them sing to THEIR children.  I am sent audio texts of their children singing, videos of their theatrical performances pictures of them playing instruments.

In addition to sharing my music with my children, students and grandchildren, I have a 75 member adult chorus that I have conducted for 28 years.  During this pandemic, the use of technology and a MIDI keyboard enabled my singers and me to learn our 22 choral songs in preparation for our next concert next fall

The piano my parents bought me as a child resides in my daughter’s home.  The piano my parents bought me for our wedding gift lives in my son’s home.  And while we have downsized, we are eagerly planning to purchase a small, digital keyboard for these arthritic hands to use as means to keep my fingers exercised – an appropriate 45 year anniversary gift!

Music lessons ARE something that defines my life!

Written by: Diane

I could write about having my tonsils removed when I was 15 months old because I am sure that was very traumatic, but I don’t remember anything about it. All I know is what my parents told me. My mother said that I was very happy afterwards because I could eat all the ice cream and jello that I wanted.

I am extremely fortunate that I did not have any serious medical problems or traumas as a child. But, I do remember the day in 4th grade that I received my first pair of glasses. I don’t think that I noticed any changes in my vision; however, the eye doctor did. After giving me a series of tests, he told my mother and myself that I was nearsighted and would need glasses for reading and other close up work. I was not happy about the prospect. I was physically active and liked to run and play. I did not want to have to worry about breaking expensive glasses. Also, I did not like my appearance in them. And, I did not want the boys calling me “Four Eyes”. That first pair was, in fact, cumbersome and, like anything new, it took me awhile to get used to them.

In 8th grade, we had an assignment to write something about ourselves which appeared in a graduation newsletter. We each had to state our pet peeve in our writing. Mine was, of course, “wearing my glasses.”

About 3 years later, as a junior in high school, I learned about the modern day “miracle” known as contact lenses and began to pester my parents about them. At my yearly checkup, the doctor took measurements of my eyes, and I was soon fitted for my first pair. I actually wore contact lenses until my cataract surgeries in the summer of 2016. Now, I am back to Square 1. No more contact lenses, but I still need glasses again for close up work and reading!

Written by: Diane

I remember one family vacation when I was fifteen years old, and we drove to the east coast. The vacation was significant for three reasons. It was my first cousin’s wedding (the first wedding I had ever attended),  it was the furthest that I had thus far traveled, and I had to give up a summer at my beloved Camp Ramah. Previous family trips had been to family B’nai Mitzvahs in Michigan or to resorts in Wisconsin or Michigan.

It was a difficult decision for me to make because I had attended Ramah for four prior summers, and I had made friends throughout the midwest. I did not want to miss a Ramah summer  so I weighed these two choices very carefully,

The main purpose of this ten day trip was to attend the wedding of my first cousin which was to take place in Atlantic City, New Jersey. As part of this trek to the east coast, we were also going to spend a few day at the Concord Hotel in Kiamesha Lake, New York and to sightsee in Washington, DC.

So five of us piled into the family car one day in late June, 1961. Our group consisted of my nine year old  brother, parents, my maiden aunt and myself. Atlantic City was our first stop. I was excited to be going to the city where the Miss America Pageant  took place every year. (As a Jewish girl growing up in the 1950’s, we all lauded and admired Bess Meyerson, the first Jewish Miss America). Nothing eventful happened to us in Atlantic City, but it was exciting to attend such an upscale, glamorous wedding (especially since it was my first)  complete with an entire weekend of activities. It was interesting to meet other Jewish young teens ( the bride’s cousins) that weekend and to hear their eastern accents and different pronunciations of common Jewish last names. And it was exciting to walk the Boardwalk and see all the attractions!

I remember very little about Washington D.C. except that it was confusing to drive around there, and we kept getting lost.

I was very impressed and ‘taken’ with the Concord. My parents told me in advance about the strictly kosher scrumptious meals, the big name entertainment, the gorgeous swimming pools and multitude of activities. It was everything they said it would be and more. I remember that my Dad had booked an enormous room, big enough for the five of us.  The big highlight for me was meeting Lucille Ball. I was a big fan of “I Love Lucy” so it was truly monumental for me to meet her at the swimming pool. We were sitting by the pool when someone spotted her so I took a walk towards her and said “hello”.

After such an exciting trip, when I returned home, I had to fill my days with mundane activities while waiting for school to start again. When my  Ramah friends came home, they told me that I had missed the best summer ever! Yes, I did feel left out! But, then I thought about the experiences of traveling with my family and the special  memories that I had created in celebrating at an Atlantic City wedding and having the time of my life at the Concord Hotel!

Written by: Kitty

I have many stories of things that happened when I was young—for some reason these are stand out moments, while I have forgotten so much from later in life.

My earliest recollection was kindergarten, and my mom walking me the six blocks to Pierce School in the Chicago Edgewater neighborhood. Shortly after she left me at the door, I panicked and left the school –and walked home alone—at five years old. Suffice it to say she was surprised to see me.

A few years later we made our home in Skokie and I walked home for lunch every day to cream of mushroom soup. It is one of those lovely memories of a warm welcome from my mom and a hot lunch. And I still love the taste of that tinny soup!

I had a wonderful teacher for sixth grade at Middleton School in Skokie. Mr. Sindler was kind, patient, encouraging and the smartest man on the planet. For some reason he must’ve sensed that I needed extra tlc because he was so caring. He’s the only teacher that has stood out in all my years of schooling.

Lastly, here’s a memory that nightmares are made of—it was recess, 4th grade, and one of the boys tied me to a tree in the play field. Unfortunately I was tied around the neck with my own scarf and could not free myself. The school bell rang and all the kids went inside—except for me–tied to a tree. I laugh/cry when I remember that. A teacher came out with a scissors and freed me.

Written by: Janet

Oy!  In grade school I was every teacher’s nightmare!  I didn’t pay attention, I didn’t listen, and I disobeyed at every turn.  I still have my report cards from grade school; they had standardized comments with boxes that the teacher would check off.  Mine ALWAYS had a check next to the phrase “Annoys others.”  In comments the teachers would write that I was a “busy body,” always talking and creating chaos in the classroom.

In third grade I got a Mary Marvel wrist watch for my birthday and was told not to wear it to school.  Of course I didn’t listen.  I showed it to a boy (I still remember his name) and he said, “Take it off and let me see it, which I did; but then he wouldn’t give it back to me.  When I got home I told my parents and my father went to the boy’s house to get back my watch.  I’m sure I was punished but I don’t remember what it was—there were so many!

When I was in sixth grade the teacher called my Mother to school for a conference.  She told her that she didn’t know what to do with me.  She asked my mother for insight and suggestions, and my mother told the teacher, “In school she’s YOUR problem.”

I remember in seventh grade we had desks arranged in vertical rows, alternating one row of boys and one row of girls.  I was the only girl sitting in a boys’ row, my punishment for something I had done.

Happy to say I made it through school, nursing school and college just fine!

Written by: Janet

My favorite thing to do with my sister was to sing together. I am five years older than my sister so we never went to the same schools or had mutual friends. When we were growing up, my sister always wanted to play with me and my friends or to come along with us when we went places. I remember asking my Mother to “Please tell Maxine that she can’t come with us.”

However, we did attend The Harrisburg Hebrew School together and we both had very nice singing voices. The music teacher would have us come to her house to learn and rehearse songs, and we would be asked to perform for synagogue Sisterhood functions and religious school events. Sometimes, when we were alone together, we would sing duets and try to harmonize. My sister hated to perform. It took all my coaxing to get her to sing with me, and, to this day, she rarely sings.

Through the years of our marriages, my sister and I have grown closer. These past months since Zayde died, my sister has been my rock; she has been there for me every day, with a phone call and a listening ear. Our favorite thing lately has been to read the many letters our Mother wrote to me while I was away at nursing school. We have shared some laughs and insights about her, and often my sister remarked that she never knew that side of our Mother. I am blessed to have my sister in my life.

Written by: Susan

My favorite thing to do with my brother was to watch television. I know that sounds strange but TV was new when we were kids. We got our first TV when I was 7 and he was 4. We would sit on the floor glued to the small black and white screen. We loved to watch Farmer Gray cartoons, Howdy Doody and friends, Rootie Kazootie and other programs I can’t remember the names of.

Before we had our own television our neighbors had one. We were at their house watching TV and were so entranced by it we didn’t realize we had been there way longer than we should have. We thanked them, said goodbye and off we went.

As we walked home we saw police cars outside. We had no idea why but as we slowly walked up the stairs we realized the police were there for us. Our mother had reported us missing. Our aunt Ida was at the house too. As our mother got ready to storm her way down the stairs to scream at us, aunt Ida put a hand on her arm and whispered something to her to calm her down.

The next thing I knew she was hugging us and crying because we were alright. I was very grateful for aunt Ida and definitely learned a lesson that day.

Written by: Diane

My first car was the college graduation gift from my parents in 1968. I remember that it was a Volkswagen but could not remember if it was a beetle or rabbit, nor could I remember the color. So I sent a text to the only person still living who I knew would remember. My brother was 16 years old at the time, and teenage boys tend to remember details about cars for their entire life.  So, he clarified that  it was a brown rabbit. I have no fond memories of this car. It took me from place to place which consisted primarily of driving 3 miles back and forth from work, and over the weekends driving to my future in-laws home where my fiancé was still living. There was not one memorable or momentous event that occurred regarding this car except my first car accident.

I don’t remember how this accident happened, who was at fault or much else about it. I must have exchanged insurance information with the other party, and we had probably called the  police. I only remember being very upset and in tears. At the time, I thought it was the end of the world! I drove over to my future in-laws place of business.  They helped me navigate through the whole accident process; calling my insurance company, finding a place to get it repaired, making arrangements for a rental car and most important, calming me down!

I only kept that car for two and a half or three years.  By then, we were married and getting ready to move out of state.  I remember selling it to my in-law’s neighbors who bought it for their teenage son.

Written by: Arlene

I grew up in an apartment in Queens NY, in a one car family.  At the time, the driving age was 18, however, given that my parents shared one car and there was decent public transportation in our neighborhood, I was not terribly motivated to learn to drive.  In the fall of 1965, at the age of 20, I began teaching in a NYC high school, walking 2 blocks, taking the city bus which dropped me off at a stop 2 blocks from my job.  I still joke that I had a teaching license before I had my driving license!

Shortly before the beginning of the school year, I met my future husband, your Papa, and shortly after the beginning of the school year I took my driving test and passed the first try.  A week later I came home from work to find to a package from Papa congratulating me on beginning my career and passing my driving test.  It was a navy and white houndstooth skirt and a navy Scandinavian style cardigan.  Needless to say, I was excited and impressed!

Fast forward to January.  Papa and I are now engaged.  I haven’t mentioned that Papa was living in New Haven Connecticut with his mother and they too were a one car family.  Obviously, we needed to buy a car.  I had received a NY State Scholarship of $350/year for college which my parents allowed me to put in a savings account since I was attending Queens College which had free tuition.  Papa and I took that money and purchased a turquoise Volkswagen Beetle.   It was our pride and joy, as it was the first car either of us had owned.  It took $3.00 to fill up the tank.

We got married the following summer and we rented an apartment outside New Haven which has many hills.  The Volkswagen had a stick shift.  Here I was, a new driver, driving a stick shift in an unfamiliar city.  But that’s a whole other story!