Doni, a friend of mine since high school, sidled up to me in the supermarket one day and said he wanted to talk. He related that years ago he had been visiting Israel and saw a man outside Yericho who was giving camel rides. He approached the man and asked, “How much do you charge to go up on the camel?” The man replied good-naturedly, “It is free.” The price was right, so Doni took a deep breath and courageously proceeded to participate in local culture. He mounted the camel, and the camel rose. Led by its owner, the camel began to walk, as Doni held on tightly with a mixture of joy and trepidation. Eventually, he had enough and decided it was time to come down. He called to the owner that he wanted to stop. The owner called back, “To go up on the camel is free, but to come down is 20 shekel? Okay?” Doni didn’t find it funny, but he did agree.

Mrs. Irma Pretsfelder, a resident of Ranchleigh and a member of Ner Tamid Greenspring Valley Synagogue, was born in Bürgeln, a small town in Western-Central Germany, in 1926. “I guess that makes me an old lady now,” she quipped when I had the pleasure of interviewing her this summer. Her family had lived in Bürgeln for generations. She was fortunate to be able to flee Germany for England just before World War II began, when she was almost 13 years old, and has lived in Baltimore for the past 76 years. Her gentle and warm demeanor belies the suffering and anguish she endured in her life. Her memory is excellent, and she kindly agreed to provide us with her fascinating account of pre-war life in Germany, as well as the War years in England and beyond.

We used to joke that my dad and my stepmom owed me shadchanus for their marriage of close to 25 years. After being introduced through a mutual friend in the 1990s, my dad and stepmom, Sara Leah, corresponded over the phone and via fax. (Remember those days?) After a few months, they met in a pizza shop in Boro Park. For some reason, he brought us children along with him. Perhaps it was because he didn’t know better, or maybe it was because he wanted her to view him as a package deal with the kids. 

At first she thought he was crazy for bringing his kids on a date intended for two, but then I – being a lactose-intolerant Jewish kid – got a stomachache, and we went to her home to use the restroom. Sara Leah was so impressed with how my father took care of me that she decided to give him another shot, and that’s when their life as a couple began. 

by Meira Levi and Aharon Levi

 You might say that teaching is our family business. My father has been teaching in yeshivos for over 20 years, and I began teaching in Bais Yaakov when I returned home from seminary. I must admit that it’s nice to come home at the end of the day and have someone to talk shop with, someone with whom I can compare notes. Sometimes I’m in class, and a student pulls a particular stunt or asks a particularly pointed question, and I have this sense of deja vu. Then it dawns on me that my father told me an almost identical story of that same thing happening to him a few years back. Just recently I shared with him a question I seem to get almost every other week: Why do we need to learn this?

Building a hospital is not a typical endeavor for a chaddishe rebbe. But the Klausenberger Rebbe, Rabbi Yekusiel Yehudah Halberstam, zt”l, wasn’t a typical rebbe.

Born in 1905, in Rudnik, Poland, young Yekusiel Yehudah showed signs of greatness early on. As a child, his primary teacher was his father, Rav Tzvi Hirsch Halberstam, who was also the rav of the town. The Klausenberger Rebbe stated that the time he spent learning with father – formally and informally – made an everlasting impression on him even though his father passed away when he was only 13.

?In 1977, in Long Beach, California, I met a saintly Lubavitcher chasid named Menachem Mendel Futerfas. Active at age 70, he was fundraising for Kfar Chabad in Israel. He was born in London in 1907, prior to the Bolshevik revolution of 1917. For many years, he ran underground cheders in Russia during the darkest days of Soviet oppression. When the Soviets eventually learned of his efforts, they tortured and imprisoned him for 14 years. Reb Mendel, as he was known, was also responsible for repatriating thousands of Jewish Polish refugees after World War II.

I had a bad case of cabin fever, especially after not being able – or willing – to leave Israel, where I live, on account of Covid. The last time I was in Switzerland was in 2019, which seemed like eons ago. I love Israel, and take whatever opportunities I can to enjoy its beautiful parks. But, like many Israelis, I needed to “break out.”

I got a call from Tourplus, a travel company that specializes in kosher tours for Orthodox Jews. They were offering a trip to Andorra – a little country somewhere in the Pyrenees Mountains. “What about Switzerland?” I asked.

“We haven’t organized anything for Switzerland this year. Granted, the Pyrenees are no match for the Swiss Alps, but it is beautiful and a lot cheaper.”

Why, you might ask, is Dan Edelman writing articles about clinical trials? In a few words, I believe we who support those suffering from illness can do better. It is all so personal. Before the pandemic,, I met with a woman and her husband to discuss clinical trials. She had lived with stage 4 breast cancer for the previous five years, surviving beyond her initial prognosis, thank G-d. I spent an hour-and-a-half with them, and they told me afterwards that no one, not even their oncologist, had spent so much time with them discussing options. Sadly, just after entering a clinical trial in Boston, she passed away leaving a bereft husband, orphans, and family. Now, when I go to the Baltimore cemetery where my grandparents and in-laws are interred, I also stop by her kever (grave). I express how sorry I am that we could not save her life and promise I will do better for others suffering from cancer; these articles are part of that promise. I pray that scientists and medical professionals who read these articles will be inspired to do better for their charges.

I started working in a daycare, recently, for a couple of hours a week, and it’s been a very enjoyable experience. Here’s what I’ve learned: 1) There is a serious shortage of spots for infants and toddlers. 2) Daycare can be a happy place for both children and employees. Putting those two factors together leads me to conclude that a job in a childcare is a great opportunity for those who are looking for work that is important, pleasant, and based on giving and kindness.