The day after Pesach, my husband and I flew back from Atlanta, and my oldest grandson, visiting from Israel, surprised us. In the den, he walked over to my keyboard and said, “Bubby, you must have had this for 30 years.” He was right. I remembered how he and his cousin enjoyed playing their own “music” when they could hardly reach the keys. Even though I would love to hear him play the keyboard again, we know that it’s sefira. During this time, it’s a challenge for me not to pop in a CD of Avraham Fried or listen to the works of Mozart, Beethoven, or Bach, which I learned to like from a shaila I asked my rabbi.

About 35 years ago, the year after my beloved father passed away, I called Rabbi Emanuel Feldman (now Rabbi Emeritus of Congregation Beth Jacob) and asked, “When can I listen to music again?” After answering, he shared that when his year of aveilus was over, he turned on his radio and heard his favorite piece of classical music.

Since I moved back to Baltimore nine years ago, I’ve met several skilled sheitel machers, and one of them gives me a great haircut. Women have no halacha to follow on how their hair should be cut, but what about boys and men? Rabbi Avrohom Kaufman, who lives in Kiryat Sefer, recently visited his parents, Evelyn and Dovid Shnier, in Baltimore and brought along a book on men’s hair cutting, Tispores K’Halacha, by the Rabbanim of the Kashrus Organization of Halachic Haircutting, which he is in the process of translating into English, under the title The Kosher Haircut.

From the time a Jewish boy gets his first haircut, whether at three years old, if that’s his family’s minhag, or before, everyone who cuts his hair knows to leave the pei’os. However, according to Rabbi Kaufman, there’s more to this mitzva, which he explained in a webinar at the Star-K on Monday, February 23. He also spoke about kosher haircuts with students at TA, and he shared the book privately with Rav Moshe Heinemann, Rabbinic Administrator of the Star-K.

Weddings are a major life event that often leave us with stories to share. Some of them are distressing at the time but are often funny in retrospect. Here are a few stories, culled from neighbors and friends.

Better than a Debutante

My own story happened when I was a young woman soon to be married. I told my mother, a”h, who was working, that I could find a bridal gown on my own. So, I rode a bus to downtown Baltimore and walked into a small bridal shop. I was the only customer, but the sales lady didn’t ask if she could help me. Instead, she said, “These gowns are for high society debutantes.”

I didn’t know what to say. With my face flushed, I left the store and crossed the street to Hochschild Kohn or Hutzler department store (I forgot which one). There I found pink bridesmaid dresses for my attendants to order, and I ordered a bridal gown for myself. It looked a little like the high society ones. Several weeks later, getting close to my wedding, I went downtown to pick up the gown, tried it on, and said, “I don’t like it.”

Early Shabbos morning, my husband was walking to shul when he saw four huge deer in front of our neighbor’s house about to cross the street in front of him. He froze, and the deer froze. Waiting for something to happen, my husband stared at them; they stared back. Then he decided that either he would get to shul on time or, G-d forbid, get attacked by a deer. When he shared this story, he made a joke about it, probably to lighten it up for me, by singing “On his way to Daf Yomi, Zaidy gets run over by a deer.” We laughed, but we both knew that this incident wasn’t funny. While we appreciate the sleek beauty of Hashem’s creation and enjoy seeing them in our yard, we know that the free-running deer in our community are causing problems that need to be solved.

“It’s an exciting time in federal politics,” says Rabbi Ariel Sadwin, Executive Director of Agudath Israel of Maryland. That is because the President of the United States and the U.S. Congress are considering tuition assistance for private education. A historic $5 billion dollar scholarship tax credit proposal is part of a reconciliation budget package – also known as the “one big beautiful bill” – that has been making its way, first through the House of Representatives and then the Senate for approval. (It passed the House as I submitted this article!) The excitement began in September 2024, when members of the Ways and Means Committee passed the Educational Choice for Children Act (ECCA) with a vote of 23 to16. It has passed before, but this time, Republicans are the majority in Congress, and they are supporting President Donald Trump’s agenda for “universal school choice.”

As Pesach approaches, I often think about my Great Aunt Cele and the Seders she held for my family in the 1950s on Cylburn Avenue. Aunt Cele was never married, but she was the matriarch of our family. She treated her nieces and nephews like they were her own children. And her great nieces and nephews were a special joy for her.

With great passion, Aunt Cele held on to the tradition of her parents, who came from Kovna Geberna in Russia. I don’t know what Seders were like for her growing up, but for me they were the highlight of every year. At the Seder, adorned in my favorite dress and shiny, black Mary Jane shoes, I sat on one side of Aunt Cele, while my brother Julian, in his brown suit-like attire, sat on her other side. Across from us were my mother and father, and at the head of the table sat my Uncle Nate, Aunt Cele’s brother, who led the Seder in his lyrical Hebrew.

Each of us had our own kiddush cup. My brother’s and mine were tiny glass ones. Each cup sat on a white plate with a painted flower design in the middle. I believe those plates had belonged to Aunt Cele’s parents, my great-grandparents. Also, we each had our own Haggadah. For Julian and me, they were small booklets with colorful pictures to make the story come alive.