To my dearest granddaughter,

You called last night to ask me about “Great Zaidy’s Box,” and I promised to call back because I was listening to a shiur. (I did try by the way.) Well, you got my literary juices flowing, so now you are getting a story to pass on to future generations.

Many, many years ago, Yaakov Boehm and Rochel Goldstein were growing up in Eastern Europe, on the Czech/Hungarian border. They both lived in small villages, not far from each other. Their families were quite poor, and they lived very simply. Great Bubby’s favorite doll was made of yarn, and Great Zaidy's favorite ball was made out of string. But, believe it or not, they were happy and content!

Without computers, telephones, radios, or even newspapers, they knew very little about the war that was brewing in Europe in the late 1930s and the early 1940s. They were young adults, out of their teenage years, actually the same age as your older siblings, when their world turned upside down.

“How can I forgive him after all he did to me?” 

“I just don’t see how I can ever move on from the pain.”

 “When is this person ever going to leave my life?”

There are people who walk around in their day-to-day lives carrying resentment towards people who have wronged them in the past. They desire to detach themselves from the pain, but it is difficult. They look to Hashem and ask, “Why did you give me this person in my life?” Although we say, “time heals wounds,” some people ask, “How much time do I need until I finally can forgive this person?”

*  *  *

Forgiving is not easy; in fact, it can take a tremendous amount of strength – and certainly time – to forgive someone who has injured our emotional core. But forgiving is a learned art that can relieve us of a tremendous amount of emotional anguish. Most people do not enjoy carrying with them pain from the past. They prefer letting go and moving on with life. The question is, how?

Over the last 40 years, the Baltimore community has helped many widows and orphans after they have unfortunately lost a loved one and there was no plan to replace the lost parnassa that the deceased had been providing for the family. I have been involved, too often, in helping raise these needed funds. Many millions have been raised, and tzedakas like Avigdor’s Helping Hand, a New York-based tzedaka organization, and our local Ahavas Yisrael Charity Fund have provided tzedaka to these mishpachos. Rabbi Boruch Brull, the executive director of Ahavas Yisrael, has been at the forefront of many of these efforts.

I am a big believer in buying insurance that will protect you and your family. I am not a professional financial advisor or an insurance broker. I am a conservative businessman, and many people come to me for financial counsel, which I am happy to give, using my extensive life experience as a guide.

It happens to the best of us: You’re ready for dinner, the aroma of fresh pizza and fries fills the house. Before settling down at the table, you take a quick detour to the fridge to get the ketchup – and you can’t find it. You were pretty sure the ketchup was there the day before. You check everywhere, but you just don’t see it. You conclude that someone must have finished it, shrug, and get a new bottle from the pantry. (You should always have backup ketchup for emergencies.) And then, a certain unrecorded number of slices and some fries later, you go to put the ketchup in the fridge only to find the one that you had been looking for earlier sitting there, as smug as a plastic squeeze bottle can be.

Things have an uncanny way of avoiding our detection (or we have an uncanny way of not noticing what’s in front of us). Either way, the ability to conceal is a crucial survival skill to many animals (and, apparently, ketchup).

In Israel, Thursday, the 22^nd day of Shevat, 5785, will surely be a day enshrined forever in the long, storied history of the Jewish people. It may or may not register much in America, except for some blog post or possibly a newspaper article of the event. There will be sighs and emotions for a moment, which may even last a few moments, possibly even an hour. Then it’s off to Target or the JCC.

It won’t be anything like that here in Jerusalem and the whole of Israel, today. I don’t say this to cast aspersions on our brethren who don’t live in Israel. G-d forbid. I know there are millions of Jews around the world who will be heartbroken by the news and pictures. What I am trying to say is that it won’t be life as usual in Israel. Not today.

Earlier this morning, the remains of the Bibas family (or so we thought – more on that later) and Oded Lifshitz were returned from Gaza in coffins. Most of the world will yawn. But for us living in Hashem’s land, it is a day of grieving, a day full of sadness and restrained, silent rage. While other days have been weighed down by similar sorrows over the last 500-plus days, there have been none quite like this one. The entire country is in a state of shock even though most feared this day would come. Now that it has arrived, it is far worse and heavier than anyone could have imagined. A malaise has taken over the city and the country; everyone is wondering how we got here and, more importantly, how we keep from, G-d forbid, getting back here. 

Although it’s still more or less the middle of the winter, with even more cold weather and snow forecast for later this week, gardeners have their eye on the prize and are looking forward to the upcoming growing season with keen anticipation! How does one anticipate the warm months when, bs”d, seeds will miraculously sprout, vines will grow high and wide, and the long-awaited fruits of one’s labor are ready for harvesting?

Besides just thinking about what the great outdoors will have in store, there are actually concrete steps that can be taken, even at this early stage. Now is the time to peruse seed catalogues and decide what vegetables you would like to grow. In addition to having a much greater variety of seed (and plant) offerings, seed catalogues – available through the mail or online – also give you much more information about their seeds: i.e., disease resistance, time to harvest, anticipated size, etc. Like any other important endeavor where you would like the best chance of success, careful planning is the key.

We inherited our refrigerator from the previous owners of our condo. Okay, so it wasn’t the latest and greatest. It didn’t take up one entire wall in our kitchen and couldn’t hold enough food for 15 families. But it was good enough for us.

Recently, I decided that I wanted to start using the icemaker and dug out the manual that came along with it. I figured I’d read the booklet while I was at it and stumbled upon something amazing: My fridge has a Shabbos mode! Well, how do you like that? I practically jumped for joy. This discovery was like finding money in the backyard. And all along I thought my old appliance was far from being state of the art. I thought it didn’t compare to the other new and gleaming appliances that stood boldly and beautifully in my kitchen. Who knew?

I don’t ever remember having a well-lit refrigerator. I was used to not being able to clearly identify the many contents that were contained inside. I kept the light bulbs unscrewed at all times so I wouldn’t have to remember to unscrew them before Shabbos. Well, no more. I simply press two buttons simultaneously, and viola, the readout says “Sb” and I’m good to go. I don’t know what to do with myself.

On January 24, in Annapolis, Dalya Attar (D) was sworn in as senator for the 41^st District in the Maryland State Senate. Previously a member of the Maryland House of Delegates, where she was the first frum person to serve, she is now the first frum state senator in Maryland. Senator Attar may also be the highest-ranking Orthodox Jewish woman in politics in American history.

Senator Jill P. Carter, of the 41^st District, resigned on January 3 to take a position with the Maryland Board of Contract Appeals, which handles state contracts. Whenever a Democratic vacancy occurs in Maryland’s legislature, the Democratic Central Committee is responsible for recommending replacements to the governor. After interviewing Delegate Attar, Delegate Malcolm P. Ruff, and six other candidates for almost two hours on Zoom, the eight committee members voted five-to-three to recommend Attar to Governor Wes Moore.

Summary: Mr. Wasserman, one of the founders of the iconic Wasserman and Lemberger butcher shop in Baltimore, was born in 1923 in a village in Germany. In part one, he described his family’s life, his schooling, and the cycle of the Jewish year. When he was about 10 years old, the Nazis came to power, and the harassment of Jews began. There was street violence and arrests. He could no longer attend public school, and the family began to think of leaving Germany.

Well, things went from bad to worse. We children were kept in the dark about a lot of things as our parents tried to protect us. I recall one incident where our next-door neighbor shot into our bedroom; the slugs hit just above my brother’s bed and became embedded in the wooden beam. Fortunately, no one was hit, but we knew then that we had to somehow make plans to leave.  This neighbor’s brothers were very big Nazis. They always claimed they wanted part of our property. Whenever we had visitors, either Jews from out of town or relatives, they used to sing “When the Jewish blood drips from the knife, then everything will be better” and other Nazi hate songs, which were directed against Jews without any cause or reason. They were indoctrinated to such an extent, there was so much hate in them, that they did whatever they could to make our lives miserable without actually outright shooting someone – so that, if you didn’t leave voluntarily, you were really forced to go sooner or later.

I got my beatings after school, either with snowballs or with dirt. They tore my clothes, tore my school bag from my back. You had a dozen guys run after you, push you down. Everything was rocky on the ground. It’s very hard to describe ordeals like that, being afraid and being pushed around all the time for no apparent reason. If you complained to their parents, either they didn’t care, denied it, or just didn’t give a hoot about the whole thing. And if you reported it, it didn’t mean a thing. In other words, this was free season on Jews. Of course, some were better and didn’t participate in this, but it takes only a few. The other ones didn’t hurt you, but they didn’t help you either.

People often ask me, “Are shidduchim harder now? Was it easier to make a shidduch 10 years ago? 20 years ago? 30 years ago? 40 years ago?” (I guess when they look at this Bubby, they realize that I’ve been doing this for a very long time.) I, too, sometimes wonder, was it easier back then? Has anything really changed? And most importantly, why am I still doing this?

While some things have definitely changed, the basic challenges remain the same. Here’s a short list of the biggest changes that I have seen in the past decades:

·         There were no resumes.

·         There were no pictures.

·         The boy actually called the girl to set up the first date (what a concept!).

·         Couples often met at Shabbos tables – accidentally-on-purpose.

The biggest constant is that the need for shidduchim is still as great as ever, and with our ever-growing population, baruch Hashem, may be even greater. But not enough people feel they have the time, energy, or, let’s be honest, the patience to be a shadchan. I firmly believe that everyone can be a shadchan – and should be. The worst that can happen is that someone says “no thank you” to your suggestion. (This happens to “real” shadchanim every single day and often without a “thank you!”)

So, why am I still doing this? Well, truth be told, I am slowing down. But every time I say to my husband, “I’m done! I just can’t do this anymore,” a shidduch goes through, and it’s like Hashem is whispering in my ear, “You can’t stop yet!”

And let me tell you, there are days when I’m ready to pull my hair out, but then I let my mind wander to the happy couples I bump into at school or at Seven Mile Market. But what really keeps me going are the funny stories – the crazy hashgacha pratis moments. Let me share a few with you from many decades ago.