How does a young Israeli kollel couple with very little income and four young children get to spend Yom Kippur and Sukkos, all expenses paid, in a hotel on the shores of the Kinneret?

Welcome to the upside-down world of Corona, where amongst all the trauma of quarantining, schools closing, sick people, and all our other worries, something pleasant sometimes happens. A young woman, Chaya, who lives in Afula in northern Israel with her husband and four children, spent Sukkos in a hotel. She was so enthusiastic about the experience that I asked her to share it with the readers of the WWW. Here is her story.

When I finished high school, 45 years ago, one of the dilemmas our family discussed was whether or not to go to college. While many Orthodox Jews were educated in the best universities and worked as professionals, some more right-wing families were unwilling to risk sending their Bais Yaakov-educated daughters and yeshiva-educated sons, raised in our insular community, to a school where they would study in coed classes and be exposed to alien ideas.

People are fascinating. Each human being has his or her own story, one that is not always well known. Interviewing members of our community is a privilege and always reveals surprises. Writing for the WWW gives me that opportunity – and the excuse to ask questions without feeling that I am being nosy.

I had the privilege of talking to Avi Emuna of Promised Land Landscaping. I am sure many of you have used Avi’s services, as he has been working as a landscaper in Baltimore for many years. I know that Avi has helped me; he planted some shrubs in the front and side of my house that give me pleasure every year when they bloom again without any effort on my part.

But there are parts of Avi that most people in the community probably do not know. There are aspects of his life that have nothing at all to do with landscaping.

I walked into a doctor’s office recently for a routine appointment and felt like I had landed on a different planet. My temperature was scanned before I even set foot inside. I looked around to see all the doctors, secretaries, and patients wearing masks that would have marked them as bandits just a few months ago. There was nothing to read in the waiting room since all the magazines have been removed. Even scheduling my appointment for next year was done on the phone from home so that I wouldn’t have to stay in the office one minute more than necessary. Was it weird? Yes. But I appreciated the thought and care that the practice had put into creating a safe environment for me and all the patients.

Mrs. Esther Tendler, a”h, was a well-known personality in Baltimore, not because of any official position she held but rather because of who she was. The mother of a large family, Mrs. Tendler had a friendly disposition, a huge smile, and a down-to-earth, practical way of looking at things. She and her husband Rabbi Yosef Tendler lived on Yeshiva Lane across the hall from my parents, so I had the opportunity to see her in action. My parents and the Tendlers were friends for many years, beginning when they both learned in the Kollel in Lakewood, close to 70 years ago.

I was brought up in a home where even talking about guns was considered taboo. I was horrified when my own children played shooting games, and I discouraged even pretend guns. What a surprise to find out that my son-in-law was great at shooting guns and had actually received one as a birthday present when he was