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Another week had passed. The two men had just gone off together. With something of an annoyed laugh, his mother went to the door and stood fingering the catch of the lock. Finally she lifted it…
Our house was gloomy—one reason why, since childhood, I have preferred the street to the home.
One cause of this gloom was the Torah…
Once a week, even now, Mrs Goffman makes that chauffeur drive her slowly down from the mountain, back to St Lawrence Boulevard and Rachel Street [in Montreal]; she doesn’t want any old cronies who…
The door it opened slowly,
My father he came in,
I was nine years old.
And he stood so tall above me,
His blue eyes they were shining
And his voice was very cold.
He said, “I’ve had a vision
And…
Hester sat down quietly next to her mother, whose sewing went on and on, a mild substitute for conversation. For a while, Hester watched the long, important-looking shadows that encroached upon the…
[…] I want to tell you about my brother’s ghost.
I had so looked forward to seeing him again: my Schorschi, my Czech brother, who had sent us a few postcards from Theresienstadt. But he wasn’t there…
A little while later, the women retired to the back room and Samuel and Ethel were the only ones still up. Ethel continued to sew silently, scarcely raising her head when the others left. Samuel…
When I was twelve, I read The Diary of Anne Frank.
I identified with her having to live
stories above a busy street
over a business, and having to keep quiet
for hours at a time.
I’d pad about on…
I think of my father who believes
a Jew can outrun fate by owning land.
Slave to property now, I mow
and mow, my destiny the new Egypt.
From his father, the tailor, he learned not
to rent but to own…
At three in the morning, Rabbi Sholem Tuvim returned home from visiting his sick father. His father was in great need of comfort, and he, Reb Sholem, would have stayed by him the entire night if the…