Faina Vaynerman was born in a large Ukrainian shtetl Piytegory, about 50 miles from Kyiv, where, historically, Jews and Ukrainians lived side by side. She was only two years old when World War II broke out. Fortunately, she and her parents were able to flee from the Ukraine in her uncle’s truck. Otherwise, she said, they would have shared the fate of the other Jews in their shtetl, who perished from the many massacres that were carried out in Europe.

Faina shares her family history going back another generation: “In 1919, when my father was seven years old, dozens of Jews from our shtetl were forced to gather in a local synagogue. Among them were my grandma, Chana Shlima, her older daughter Rivka, and three-year-old son. The Ukrainians set it on fire and whoever tried to escape the fire was shot. My two grandmothers were murdered by the Ukrainian nationalist anti-Semites. My other grandma, Hinda Khmelinsky had found her death in 1941. They were murdered only because they were Jewish.”

Dr. Lynda Zentman, aka Laytzee the Clown, says her clowning career began when she “retired from real life” about six years ago, after being a teacher and principal in Rockland County, New York, for many years. Now she lives, part-time, in Israel.

“Once I retired, I felt this was something I wanted to do,” explains Dr. Zentman, a great-grandmother who feels like a 16-year-old when she puts on her clown makeup. “I’ve always enjoyed production, acting, singing, and dancing – which were part of my previous life as well – but to dress up as a clown and go and make people feel happy was a dream come true.”

This Chanukah, as every year, Baltimore will be ablaze not only with the lights of the menorah but also with fond Chanukah memories from across the globe.

A Village in Germany

Mrs. Irma Pretsfelder grew up in a village of only two Jewish families, about 50 miles north of Frankfurt, Germany. She was almost 13 years old, in 1939, when her family fled the country for England. “Our family didn’t make that much of Chanukah,” recalls Mrs. Pretsfelder. “We lit the candles and sang “Moaz Tzur,” but as far as giving gifts, it didn’t happen in our house – there was no Chanukah gelt or gifts. My mother hand-grated her potato latkes and made her own donuts from scratch, with yeast. They were deep fried, unfilled, and dipped in sugar. How we loved them! We didn’t play dreidel; I learned that over here. It also wasn’t the custom to put our menorah in the window. Here I do, because everybody else does. During Hitler’s time, we were afraid of repercussions; we certainly didn’t have it in the window.”

What you are about to read shocked me, too. I first learned of it when my husband shared Rav Moshe Heinemann’s emotional plea on Selichos night at the Agudah about the hundreds of frum Baltimore children are not enrolled in Jewish schools. Without offering any further details, the Rav passionately stated that our community has a responsibility to deal with this issue. I was determined to find out more, and the investigative reporter in me took over. This is what I discovered:

It turns out that Seth Gerstman was also at the Agudah on Selichos night and heard Rav Heinemann’s plea. He took the initiative to gather further information for the Rav, and was most instrumental in leading me to those in the loop.

It took me a while to connect all the dots. There was our two-hour wait in the rental car line, our new dining room table that was promised to arrive any day but got held up for months at port, the endless dealership invites to sell my 2017 vehicle for top dollar, the repeated delays of our early Friday morning Southwest flight (that finally got us home an hour before Shabbos), and the months-long wait for a dented refrigerator door replacement.

The list goes on and on – across the board and across the globe. Product lines, professional services, food establishments, educational institutions, and more, in every state, every country, and every continent. For months, we have all experienced the trickle-down effects of this unprecedented labor shortage in one way or another. I went behind the scenes of just a few of these workplaces to do some investigation.

Tamar Schulman first heard about vaping from her children when they were in middle school. “I found out that kids were vaping in the school bathroom or behind the school building,” says Tamar. “I didn’t know anything about it; I had to go online and research what vaping is.”

Since then, she was told by a frum therapist, “Mrs. Schulman, I am telling you, vaping is happening in every school in Baltimore. It doesn’t matter how big or small the school is. Don’t kid yourself!”