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Mar Abramowitz did not attend services in our temple. With a dozen or so other Ashkenazi refugees from Eastern Europe he worshiped in a tiny downtown loft that was said, by those who had never been…
I wasn’t a very political adolescent. I had grown up surrounded by unexplained cautions, by ellipses, and all these silences had sealed off the public world, so that I didn’t really believe in it…
My mother and I are out walking. I ask if she remembers the women in that building in the Bronx. “Of course,” she replies. I tell her I’ve always thought sexual rage was what made them so crazy.…
I was born, I have lived, and I have been made over. Is it not time to write my life’s story? I am just as much out of the way as if I were dead, for I am absolutely other than the person whose story…
I was present at the last birth. My wife and I had done the natural childbirth exercises. We were ready. The doctor was kind and easy.
The child was born, my fourth child, a boy. After three girls…
Among the very few possessions my parents were permitted to take with them when they emigrated as refugees from Austria to Bolivia in June 1939 was a box camera and two family photo…
In twelfth grade I am at the height of my power as a young woman. I am experienced. I am loved. I am excelling in my classes. I am president of my school and lead all school meetings in the gym every…
[…] [I]f suddenly Mexico and Israel went to war, on which side would I fight? My cowardly answer was plain and simple: “I really wasn’t cut out to be a soldier. So on neither one, since I’m a pacifist…
In the hot tranquillity of Sunday afternoons in Lusaka, beyond the shrill whistle of the cicadas and the drone of radio sports commentaries, we could hear the muffled thudding of tribal drums.
The…
[ . . . ] The two worlds, in my childhood, were not really separate. The synagogue in Graham Street, to which we walked across the Meadows every Saturday morning, was as much a part of the Edinburgh…