Recently, my two brothers and I were reminiscing about our childhood years. My brothers started to sing some old songs; I noticed that almost all of them were Seder songs. My mind drifted back over the years to our family Sedarim. To my father, the Seder night was of supreme importance. In one of his recorded shiurim, he said:

As we sit around the magnificent table, we relive the birth of our nation together with our children. In the process, we impart to our children their spiritual genetic makeup. Everything that they will accomplish in life, the success of their individual missions in life, the people that they will grow into – everything! Everything depends upon the way that we transmit our mesorah to them.

But what is that “way”? How does the Seder transmit the mesorah? What do such lofty ideas as the “birth of our nation,” our “genetic makeup,” and our “mission in life” have to do with whether we use potatoes or celery for karpas? Whether we tip the cos or drip the wine with our finger?

Pesach is a holiday with many halachos but it is also, perhaps more than any other Yom Tov, replete with minhagim. They are the conduit through which the mesorah is passed down, the audiovisual/kinesthetic/culinary spectacle that makes the Seder memorable. Here are some memories of our family’s minhagim as well as those of the people I spoke to.

Have you and your children ever started a Chol Hamoed morning with the question, “Where should we go?” and ended up still debating the issue at three o’clock in the afternoon? Where to go is the universal question for families with children. I do not have young children anymore, so it is not my dilemma, but it was interesting to gather ideas for young families or grandchildren interested in trips.

I have not been to most of these places, so I can’t vouch for them, but seeing the ideas may ring a bell and remind you of places you enjoyed in the past. I’ll start by mentioning some businesses that advertise with us specifically to attract the Chol Hamoed trip goers.

?A number of readers have contacted me to ask why I didn’t write an article for the previous (February) edition. Firstly, I apologize that I couldn’t make the last deadline. Secondly, I was gratified to learn that some people actually read my articles.

I have had the privilege of writing for the WWW for almost five years. Sometimes readers agree with my take on things and sometimes not. I am grateful that WWW has allowed me the freedom to express myself as I see fit. Occasionally, my articles have been controversial, but still, the magazine’s editors allowed me to be me.

Over 25 years ago, my dear friend and mentor, Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, of blessed memory, told me that I should write a book. He said, “You should write along the lines of Rabbi Emanuel Feldman’s Tales Out of Shul or Rabbi Paysach Krohn’s Maggid stories. Rabbi Twerski said, “I’ll be happy to give your book my haskama (approbation).” I always wanted to write the type of book Rabbi Twerski described, but so many things that seemed critical or more important filled my days.

It was a Thursday afternoon last fall, and I was sitting at my computer with thoughts of making Shabbos. I had planned to start my preparations ahead of time and made a mental list of what to make Thursday morning. However, as the sun rose higher in the sky, the kitchen remained in the dark while I sat in the den with my fingers tapping the keyboard, happily absorbed in sending emails to contacts near and far. I knew what was waiting for me in the other room but chose to ignore the signals my mind was sending me – the same way our grandson purposefully tunes out the repeated reminders from his parents when they tell him to take a shower.

I guess it’s time to admit that I’m not the biggest fan of cooking. I enjoy making food for my family and other guests, but I like eating out and prefer picking up takeout on the way home. There are some weeks when I’ll cook a different meal every night, and other times when that just doesn’t happen. I do have some guilty feelings about it, but thankfully, my husband doesn’t feel that his wife should spend any more time in the kitchen than she wants to.

transcribed by Howard Wasserman

Summary: As the violence against Jews in Germany worsened, Mr. Wasserman, one of the founders of the Wasserman and Lemberger butcher shop, was sent to Baltimore by his family at age 13. Taken in by a kind family acquaintance, he started junior high in Lower Park Heights. After graduating high school, he found jobs and lived on his own. He tried to get affidavits for his parents and siblings to come to America but was unsuccessful.

I was inducted into the army at the beginning of 1943. I was a non-citizen, but non-citizens were inducted at that time. I was sent to Fort Meade, Maryland, where I was put on KP (kitchen patrol) the next morning. I was washing dishes and pans that had been used for treife spareribs. I couldn’t eat for a week after that. Next, I was transferred to Camp Wheeler, Georgia, and put in an infantry replacement battalion. I was given basic infantry training there in preparation for being sent overseas. However, they found out that I had very bad eyesight in one eye, so I was left behind when the other guys were shipped overseas.

I was given various duties at Camp Wheeler until I was finally assigned to a headquarters company, where I did clerical work. After that, I was transferred to Camp Landing, Georgia, a replacement training center. Here, too, I was assigned to a headquarters company. I stayed around other Jewish personnel who were stationed there. I ate non-kosher food but never any pork or seafood, and I kept Shabbos when I could.

All in all, I didn’t fare too badly in the service. I got good medical attention, and outside of problems that everybody had, such as strict discipline and being restricted, I had no problems whatsoever with anybody. I became a citizen while I was in the army, in Macon, Georgia, after being investigated by the FBI because of my German background.

Also, while in Camp Landing, I took correspondence courses at the University of Wisconsin, which were offered to the armed forces. I made some very good marks in history, geography, bookkeeping, etc. I furthered my education quite a bit.

After three-and-a-half years in the Army, I was honorably discharged and came back to Baltimore in 1946.

Friday – it’s a day of standing in the kitchen, giving baths, setting the table, lighting the candles…and wearing costumes?

Purim this year falls out on none other than an already busy Friday. So when exactly are we cooking for Shabbos? Not sure, but what we can be sure about is that we’ll have not only two delicious meals on Shabbos, but one on Friday as well. Putting aside the food (which will be prepared at some unknown point in time), let’s talk about some of the other mitzvos of the day and how they may (or may not) look different this year.

Let’s start with mishloach manos. Between preparation and execution, it is probably the most time consuming of Purim’s mitzvos, especially when it involves themes. Themes: it’s a word some families love and others dread.

Since Chanukah, or even before, many families discuss endlessly what they are going to be – and then search Amazon or other stores to get materials to make the perfect costumes… only to discover that a younger sister insists on being a ballerina and ballerina only, so you must cajole her into wearing the absolutely “horrid” painter’s apron and hat by promising her all the Dum-

Dums you receive in your mishloach manos.

With Purim quickly approaching, it feels like a good opportunity to once again consider the dangers of teenage drinking. My personal preference – and the preference of just about every professional in the entire world – is that teenagers should refrain from drinking alcohol on Purim or any other day because no good comes from it. Alas, teenagers are curious and skilled at finding pathways to drinking, usually through alcohol stored at home. And some parents and community leaders seem to give drinking a pass on Purim, unfortunately.  

The good news is that most teenagers will choose not to drink on Purim, though some will. With that in mind, I put together 10 strategies parents might consider well before we start to read the Megillah to mitigate the dangers of teenage drinking. 

All of us impact the world around us on some level. Whether we are educators, parents, employers, employees, or friends, we all interact with others and want to have a degree of influence on the people around us. When we see someone act in a way that needs improvement, we instinctively want to share our beliefs about the proper mode of behavior, and we hope that they will listen to our advice. Many of us may be surprised that, on a regular basis, our advice is often not followed. This is becoming increasingly more prevalent even among authority figures such as parents and teachers. Of course, authority figures often have the power to use coercion, but today that causes much resentment and is only used as a last resort. What then is the most effective way to have a positive impact on others?

The main focus of this article is to answer this question from my personal perspective as a rebbe dealing with beis medrash age talmidim. However, it is equally applicable to parents and, to a certain extent, to all of us who have social interactions. (The essential insights are true for younger children as well, although they have to be applied differently than the approach discussed in this article.)

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?