Vestiges of yellow police tape and a metal fence to ward off trespassers still surround the charred remnants of the November 29th Shabbos morning blaze. The heavy fire broke out at 4:30 a.m. on the third floor of 2701 Jenner Drive, in Baltimore’s Pickwick Apartment complex, and spread from the roof to the adjacent 2703 Jenner Drive.

Four of the six apartments in building 2701 that were damaged by fire, smoke, and/or water were occupied by young Orthodox families, including five children under the age of three; the other two were inhabited by elderly people. Baruch Hashem, all the residents evacuated in time, thanks to the gallant heroism of one of the young residents, who was awoken by the fire, and knocked on everyone’s doors. Kudos also go to another young man who, when rushing out of his apartment with his wife and child, noticed that an elderly neighbor was frozen on the landing, in shock, and saved her by carrying her down the stairs to outdoor safety. The fire was under control by 6 a.m. and the three elderly residents were treated for minor injuries.

Recently, Chaverim of Baltimore sent out two tweets asking for assistance. These were not the all-volunteer organization’s run-of-the-mill pleas for help to change a flat tire, fill a stranded car’s tank with gas, direct traffic for a large car accident, do a pop-a-lock on a car or home, or jumpstart a dead car battery. Nor was it to ask Chaverim members to join forces with Baltimore’s other chesed organization team players to go on a missing person search.

The September 8, 11:17 a.m., tweet read, “Assistance needed for minyan/burial for meis mitzva, tom 3pm bnai israel cemetery in east balt.” The November 4, 7:45 a.m., tweet read: “Help needed to make shiva minyan in ellicott city at 4:40 pm today.” Both tweets asked responders to call the Chaverim hotline, 410-486-9000, if available.

Miriam Liebermann’s writing career started inadvertently, 22 years ago, when she devoured Sarah Shapiro’s anthology, Our Lives II.  “The introduction to this book changed my life,” recalls Miriam, author of the new book, To Fill the Sky with Stars, an anthology of stories by and for women in midlife and beyond.

“Sarah discusses the art of writing, which she claims is actually a form of hakaras hatov, a vehicle through which we can show appreciation for our daily lives. Why is that? Those who write are much more aware of all the nuances of their lives. Always on the lookout for material to write about, nothing escapes them. Their senses are keener. Their antennas are always on alert! The details take on more significance. And as a result, their lives become much richer, much fuller. I read this and thought, ‘Sarah’s talking to me!’ I wanted my life to be as rich as possible, as full, as meaningful. I began to write short vignettes revolving around my childhood, my family, and my hopes and dreams for the future, which were published in Targum’s Horizons magazine. I started to write, and, baruch Hashem, have never stopped.”

Dr. Morris Mayer works a six-day, 80-hour week as the owner of two pharmacies – the Joppa Road Pharmacy in Parkville and the Harford Road Pharmacy in Carney. You would think that he would want to take it easy on Shabbos, but au contraire! Each Shabbos, in rain, sleet and snow, Dr. Mayer and his 18-year-old son Doni make the approximately four-mile round trip trek – including the steep “killer hill” leading to Pimlico Racetrack – to Levindale Hebrew Geriatric Center and Hospital.

The dynamic duo started their weekly pilgrimage about six years ago, following in the footsteps – literally – of their son/older brother, Adam, now a 23-year-old medical school student in Philadelphia, who still volunteers at Levindale when he is in town. He was the first in the family to volunteer, seven years ago, encouraged by his friends, the Gnatt brothers, Itamar and Michael.

Of all the stories to have come out of the terrible World War II years, among the most poignant are those of children who were saved from death by going underground – literally. These young children spent formative years buried beneath a barn floor or confined to an attic, without toys, books, or writing materials, let alone an iPad, to occupy their time. What did they do? How did they play and learn? Were they immobilized by fear? Did they emerge emotionally stunted for life? Here are the stories of three such child survivors with a Baltimore connection.

Knowing that I am always on the lookout for a good story, my eldest son Shimon grabbed my attention in a dramatic way: “Ma,” he began on that fateful day, four years ago, “I have an amazing hashgacha pratis (Divine providence) story to tell you. This will make a really good article!” He then broke the to-me-earthshaking news of his intent to move to Eretz Yisrael. He was right about the article, though it was not the one he was thinking of. I called it “Sweet or Bittersweet? – When Children Make Aliya,” and appeared in the January, 2011 issue of the Where What When, (See www.wherewhatwhen.com/authors/view/margie-pensak/page:4.)