I remember way back when I was in second grade (trust me, it was way back!), and I came home one day rather upset. My dad was sitting in his favorite chair concentrating on his newspaper. He saw me standing there and said, “Do you need something?”

I said, “Yes, a kid in my class beat me up today!”

My dad looked at me and said, “Well, as I see it, you’ve got two choices: Learn to fight or learn to run.”

Yep! That was the sum and total of our conversation. Can anyone imagine such a conversation taking place today? These days, many parents reflexively intervene to defend their kids “rights” and demand answers from teachers, school administrators, and sometimes lawyers to look after their “fragile” kids – that is, their kids whom they themselves have made fragile.

Today, as on the last couple of Sundays, I hitched my bike rack to the rear of my car to load my bike and then pick up my riding partner and hit Israel’s trails. I inadvertently over-loosened a mechanical arm that holds the bike in place, and it came apart. Not being mechanical, I was at wit’s end. It “just so happened” that a fellow wearing a kippa and a spotted mask walked by, and, although I didn’t know him, I asked if he could help me put it back together. He gave it a try and succeeded! He literally saved the day. It was as if G-d had sent an angel. And it made me think of angels in my past, especially the “invisible” and the unexpected ones – those messengers who worked behind the scenes. This article is dedicated to a few of these people: people who cared and who made a major impact on my life – some without me even being aware of it until years later.

A new source of hope in the treatment of COVID-19, nearly a year after its emergence, is a therapy called monoclonal antibodies. This treatment is now being offered by Hatzalah of Baltimore. We asked Dr. Yosef Levenbrown, Medical Director of Hatzalah of Baltimore, to help us understand the treatment and to whom it is available.  

The praises for Rebbetzin Dr. Aviva Weisbord, a”h – affectionately known simply as Aviva – pour in from around the world. They paint a picture of an extraordinary personality. Steeped in Jewish values, Aviva also had incisive intelligence, insight, good judgment, and empathy. What can we at the Where What When add? Indeed, Aviva was one of those people for whom no amount of praise will suffice. And so we decided to let Aviva “speak for herself.”

You see, aside from being so many things to so many people, Aviva wrote for us. She was generous with her time and her wisdom, and her monthly advice column, “Growing up Is Hard to Do,” ran for many years. The articles she submitted were models of clarity that seemed to flow effortlessly from her orderly mind. Not a misspelled word or a misplaced comma was to be found on the sheets of paper covered with her neat, curvilinear handwriting. (Yes, in the early years, the columns came by mail.) Aviva always grasped the essence of the problem. At the same time, she was full of kindness and encouragement. Here are some short excerpts from her writing:

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Dr. Naor Bar-Zeev, who has been in the forefront of educating the public about COVID-19, graciously agree to answer a few questions about COVID-19.

Q: In Israel, they have already vaccinated 1 million people. Why the delay here? When and where will the vaccine be available?

Many years ago, I read an article in Jewish Action by Rabbi Abraham Twerski, MD, entitled “Time for a Rosh Hashanah Overhaul.” His message has stayed with me over the years, but I am only trying to implement it now.

Rabbi Twerski, who has done extensive work in the field of alcoholism, was at a meeting where a man who was sober for 30 years said, “The man I once was drank. And the man who I once was will drink again. I can stay sober only by not going back to being the person I was before I began drinking.”

Life presents us with challenges as we go about our daily activities: working, shopping, bringing up our families, and more. We try to do all this as ehrliche Jews, keeping to the halachos. Sometimes, though, we are not aware that halacha has something to say about a given circumstance. Take the seemingly esoteric – though actually quite common – situation where one person is trying to obtain something and another person undercuts him or her and takes that item instead. Let’s examine a few such scenarios.

Back in 1979, when I moved to Baltimore, Jack’s Grocery was the “in” place to shop. It was a cozy, quaint, heimishe mom-and-pop grocery store, where everything from the freshest produce and canned goods to appetizing and hot take-out food specialties, all within two aisles. The proprietors, Jack and Rose Boehm, a”h, were hardworking, ehrliche, goodhearted Holocaust survivors from Czechoslovakia who worked their way up in America, despite not knowing a word of English when they arrived.

Today was an awesome, incredible, amazing day. As I write these words, and even before I begin, let me remind those of you who may have already forgotten that this was the day of the totally out-of-left-field snowstorm we experienced, beginning on Wednesday afternoon, the sixth day of Chanukah, and continuing into the night, also known as erev Zos Chanukah, a night of miracles for the Jewish people throughout the centuries.

In 2021, we take it for granted that we have day schools for our children to attend. We are hardly surprised when we hear that Bais Yaakov has six or seven parallel classes in each grade. It was not always like that. When I attended Bais Yaakov (I graduated in 1973) there was only one class per grade, and my class had about 17 girls. But, although the school was much smaller, I also took it for granted that I was entitled to attend a Jewish school and get a Torah education.

My sister, Debbie Burnstein, a”h, passed away in December, at the age of 66. Debbie was developmentally challenged and lived in a group home just about her entire life. She was raised in a generation when people didn’t talk about children who had such challenges. They were “put in the closet,” so to speak. But my parents were not like that. Unfortunately, their family and friends did have that mindset, so my parents had it hard. Even our relatives, as wonderful as they were, never called and asked, “How’s Debbie?” or “Where are you putting her?” And my mother was too uncomfortable to tell them that they had to put her in a non-Jewish place.

The date March 2, 2020 looms large in my mind. That is the date of the last occupational therapy mental health group I led, and I have proof: The date is still written on the dry-erase board in the rehab gym.

Since March and the onset of COVID-19, so many changes have occurred at Levindale Hebrew Geriatric Center and Hospital in Baltimore, where I work as an OT (occupational therapist). Occupational therapists treat people who are recovering from illness or injury, focusing on ADL (activities of daily living)/IADL (instrumental activities of daily living) as well as cognition and psychological function. I mostly work on the four inpatient Brain Health units, with patients diagnosed with dementia and/or mental illness. I also cover on acute rehab, sub-acute rehab, and the “Households” (similar to assisted living) as needed.