Mrs. Nechy Zehnwirth, a”h, was a one-of-a-kind person. We have heard about so many of her chasadim, but we wanted to share our personal story of how Nechy went way above-and-beyond the call of duty.

I walked nervously into Levindale geriatric center for my first day as a level II Occupational Therapy student in 1989. At age 36, I was an older student, pregnant with our fifth child. A young Orthodox Jewish woman introduced herself as Nechy Zehnwirth, my fieldwork supervisor. More then 10 years younger than I, she insisted on calling me Mrs. Shamberg. I never felt comfortable with formalities and insisted on first-name basis. She reluctantly agreed. She considered me an elder worthy of the respect of formality that she was used to in her observant Jewish upbringing.

It has been called “the greatest public health issue of our times,” a condition that a strong body of scientific research shows can make people two times more likely to smoke, seven times more likely to struggle with alcoholism, 10 times more likely to use drugs, and 12 times more likely to attempt suicide. 

As the sun’s last rays cast long shadows along the ground, a graceful deer emerges from the forest to graze on tender grass. Moving cautiously away from the shelter of the trees, the white-tailed deer is alert, constantly testing the air for any sounds or smells that signify danger. Shy and skittish, the slightest disturbance in the evening’s calm atmosphere will send her bounding back to the safety of the forest.

No parents want to be accused of spoiling their children. But speaking to parents about the topic, I quickly found that their ideas of what constitutes spoiling vary quite a bit. The definition of “spoil,” according to Webster’s Dictionary, is “…to impair the quality or effect of character by overindulgence or excessive praise.” Of course, that leaves us with the dilemma of what is “overindulgence” or “excessive praise.”

It was a privilege to interview Rabbi Yosef Rosenfeld, mazkir (administrator) of the Baltimore Bais Din. In this article I will try to clarify with Rabbi Rosenfeld how a bais din works and what is its purpose in general. I will also specifically inquire about the Baltimore Bais Din.

When it became apparent during the summer that the COVID-19 pandemic was going to be a prevalent factor during the upcoming school year, my friends and I faced a dilemma. We had to acknowledge the fact that our longstanding hopes and plans to continue learning in a yeshiva in Israel were in jeopardy. Would the yeshivas open at all? Would they succeed in devising a plan to ensure the safety of their students and staff? This was Israel, where the government is stricter and the rules less clear. Even if our yeshiva opened, should I go, as the experience was sure to be much curtailed?

This article is about being true to your word, helping your children do the same, and making the most of it in a productive and positive way with your children.

In the parent-child relationship, trust is crucial. Yet trust can be a funny thing when it comes to children. It seems that any passing comment or careless thought you expressed without paying attention to it becomes a legally-binding agreement in their eyes. You may have been in the middle of washing dishes when your daughter breezed through the kitchen, mumbling something about getting together with her friends. You may have mumbled something back as you reached for a towel. You can be certain that whatever you said (as long as it was in the affirmative) will come back to haunt you, even if you can’t even remember what it was that you agreed to! “But, Mom, you s-a-i-d!” will ring through the house until you let her go.

How does a young Israeli kollel couple with very little income and four young children get to spend Yom Kippur and Sukkos, all expenses paid, in a hotel on the shores of the Kinneret?

Welcome to the upside-down world of Corona, where amongst all the trauma of quarantining, schools closing, sick people, and all our other worries, something pleasant sometimes happens. A young woman, Chaya, who lives in Afula in northern Israel with her husband and four children, spent Sukkos in a hotel. She was so enthusiastic about the experience that I asked her to share it with the readers of the WWW. Here is her story.

When I asked Rochel Berman if I could interview her, after being tipped off by a mutual friend about her fascinating story, she immediately took me up on my offer – with a disclaimer. She didn’t think her life was anything fantastic. Now that I know her life story, though, I’d say it could be the subject of a movie or a book. What do you think?

Déjà Vu

Rochel Berman was born and raised in Buenos Aires. Her parents, both natives of Poland, were Holocaust survivors. When they met and married in Paris, her father had papers to go to America, and her mother had papers to go to Argentina. They decided on Argentina, where they eventually did very well.