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Those matters discussed in an earlier issue dedicated to the practice of indolka inspired the distinguished writer to write this fine article.
Everything that I am relating here is neither eloquent…
When breakfast was over, I had to go to the synagogue, rain or shine, for it was Saturday morning. I used to sit next to Bernard and Simon. We would wear our skull caps and whisper to each other…
Do you know what sign I am? Aries. What’s that? And? So, what do you think? No big deal? And do you know what my conflict is? The drama? Yes, the drama of my life. Misery. What do you say? Now, just…
You, my dear, will survive me and remember.
How could it be otherwise?
—From a letter
Old people? What can you write about old people?
They barely feel anything!
—From a conversation
One day, during World War Two, a military chaplain arrived at our army camp in the Australian outback, to celebrate the Feast of Hanukkah with us and tell us about the wars of the Maccabees. Apart…
Grandfather Anshel wasn’t at all surprised when Momik shared his secret and asked him to help. Momik of course knew Grandfather didn’t understand any of this, but he wanted to be completely fair so he…
[…] There I am, a kid in Chicago. Not from a particularly religious family. On top of the world, in the middle of the middle class. Ten years old and an only child. The war over half a decade and the…
It’s a great question this question of washing. One never can find anyone who can be satisfied with anybody else’s washing. I knew a man once who never as far as anyone could see ever did any washing…
[ . . . ] And the Lieutenant-Captain was seriously tired of other people’s passports, of never-ending family names, from Ivanov to Chavchavadze, and of registration.
The barrister has been…
The Painter had a different personality. A tiny Polish Jew, he was famous as a creator of wonderful whimsical animals. He said:
“For my part I wanted to use stained glass. But the architect says we…