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“Blessed be He who shows loving kindness to the undeserving, for he requited me with every kindness” in the dead of night, on Monday, in the early morning of the 9th of Kislew…
Now comes the turn, with awe and reverence, awe and reverence without end, of my father, the pious, God-fearing, learned one, may his strength be for the Torah [see Esther 2:15], the supernal light…
Few children know the stories of their parents. During my childhood, I knew only that mine were an impossible match—which did not prevent my mother from spending day and night at my father’s bedside…
The anthologist, like the historian and the novelist, is an autobiographer is disguise. He is driven into the jungles and watering places of literature by instinct as well as by design. The ultimate…
All of us—dying here in polar, ice-cold indifference of nations, forgotten by the world and its hustle and bustle—have nonetheless felt the need to leave something for posterity: if not complete…
It is April 1959, I’m standing at the railing of the Batory’s upper deck, and I feel that my life is ending. I’m looking out at the crowd that has gathered on the shore to see the ship’s departure…
I was sitting next to Brodsky, and Sonnenshein was sitting opposite us, near the back of the truck. From the moment we had crossed into Germany, something had happened to him. His pipe never left his…
[ . . . ] Let us return to my maternal grandmother, Matte, of blessed memory. After she married off my late aunt Ulk, she was left penniless with the fatherless child my mother, may she live…
“I have a partner for the Point St Charles business,” said Pa.
“A partner! Why a partner?” said Aunt Julia. “Why are you afraid to do anything by yourself? And who is this partner?”
“Henoch,” he told…
[…] 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…