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I have a lovely period photo, sepia coloured, with all the characters in a row, and their gentle trusting faces, photograph faces that nobody ever looks at now. They are the shifbrider, the ship…
“. . . Are you Jewish?”
“Of course, I am. I went to South America to escape persecution, not to enjoy the pleasant climate.”
“Well, I’m neither a practicing Jew nor a Zionist. In fact, I dislike any…
Bread
Very early in the morning we went to pick up fresh bread at Doña Blanquita’s. However, before arriving at her house that resembled the generosity of her hands and clay ovens, we had to cross a…
On the nights before Passover, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur, my mother would send me to the butcher with some birds to be slaughtered according to ritual so the meat would be kosher—that is, clean…
Through the large portal of “The Jewish Gauchos,” one of the most moving literary tributes to the Republic in the first hundred years after the May Revolution of 1810, Dr. Noé Yarcho, the “miracle…
The filthy train lurched along the tracks, jolting my spine through the slats of the wooden seat.
I was thoughtful, my happiness mixed with vague regrets. Happiness? No, a deserter’s sense of hard-won…
After the war with Spain came another war. The postman, though, he stopped coming. Well, actually, he didn’t stop. What I mean is, he didn’t stop in. Papa always waited for him by the balcony, he’d be…