Tag Archives: grandma

What the Karlsbad/Karlovy Vary Postcards Revealed

27 Aug
Postcards from grandma to grandpa.
Grandpa’s one postcard.

The Cigar Box discovered in our Catskill house is beginning to reveal its secrets and memories.

There are seven postcards written from my grandmother in Karlsbad  (Karlovy Vary) to my grandfather in Linden, New Jersey.  

The first discovery is the address of my grandfather’s bakery, where he lived above the store.  We now know exactly where it was located.  The building still exists, and I even have a photo of the building that I found online.

This building was my grandparents’ bakery in Linden. From Google maps.
Google maps of where bakery was located.

We knew that when my grandmother went to Europe my grandparents were in the process of opening their own bakery.  My grandfather had been in business with his uncle since he moved to the USA. The bakery in Linden mainly served restaurants and grocery stores and had a small retail presence.  This store closed a few years after my grandmother returned to the USA when they purchase a building and opened a bakery in West New York, New Jersey.

We often wondered if or how they communicated when grandma was in Europe, now we know.  Postcards.  My grandparents saved these seven. These all are from the month that she spent at the spa trying to heal from her illness, kidney disease brought on by eclampsia and the termination of her pregnancy in early 1931. Luckily, she had a great doctor who saved her life.  (See blogs below.) The postcards date from June 30 to July 22, 1931.

Now we know what she was thinking while she was there.  She was 25 years old, the mother of two children who were staying with her in-laws in a small shtetl outside of Mielic, and she was horribly ill.

I must thank Leslie T., who was gracious to translate these postcards for me.  Leslie is someone who also belongs to the Jewish Genealogy Portal Facebook Group.

The first postcard dated June 30, 1931, asks for $100. And informs my grandfather that the first treatment did not help, but the second treatment is helping.  She also told my grandfather that there was someone at the mineral waters who was 58 years old.  I think that gave her hope that she could and would survive.

There is another postcard written on the same day in English.  Thanking my grandfather for the money he has sent.  And asking him to please write, as she is worried about him. 

Grandpa was 31. I know exactly what he was thinking because I asked him.  Why did you let grandma take the children to Europe.  “She was a sick woman.  I had to let her do what she thought was best..”  But what would have done if she died? The children would have been left in Austria.  “As soon as she died I was going to get on a boat and return with my children. I would never leave them there.”    End of discussion. 

The postcard correspondence continues.

July 6, 1931:

Most beloved husband:

I’m very surprised that I’m not getting any letters from you. I write to you so often and yet no answer. Anyway, how are things by you? Hopefully, still good. No news forthcoming from my part. Everything is the same as always. Well then, I send you greetings and kisses; also, the very best greetings and kisses from the dear children.

I remain your faithful wife who hopes to see you as soon as possible

July 14, 1931:

Dearest husband Nisan,

I’m letting you know that I got your card from Sharon Springs

 I’m very happy that you went to ‘take the waters’ but dear Nisan, see to it that you get some rest after the mineral baths else you could become very weak. I’ve experienced something like it. I’m still staying at Carlsbad this week – see that you send me some money. And don’t worry about the house because I get very frequent letters [from there]. Everyone is OK and the children really yearn for you – as do I. I send you heartfelt greetings and kisses from your faithful wife who hopes to see you as soon as possible. Thelma Amsterdam

July 21: 1931

Dearest husband: In this picture you can see the guest house where I live in Joachimsthal [now called Jachymov Czechia]. Just looking at it is enough to make you cry, but it is the stuff of memories. Well, Nisan, I’m begging you to send me some amount of money by telegraph to Carlsbad to the same bank – and immediately, as soon as you get this card, because I am left without a cent. Other than that, there is no news, at least, nothing good to report. Just know that I send hearty greetings, and you should get much pleasure from your dear children as well.

I feel worse now than at home.

Write an answer to your children.

July 22, 1931

Dearest husband:

I have taken 3 bath treatments already and feel like all my bones are breaking. There are people here from all over the world and everyone says that the treatments work but that you have to come at least several times. I believe that I’ll go from here to Vienna to see a heart specialist. Please send money to the same bank as before. No other news. Your faithful wife sends her regards – and the best greetings are from your children. Thelma Amsterdam

July 24, 1931

Dearest husband,

I received your letters from Sharon Springs. I’m writing you another postcard because yesterday I sent you a telegram asking for money. I want to go to Vienna to see a professor about my heart. The children are fine, but they miss us very much. I hope to be seeing them soon. Dear husband, here in Joachimsthal things are going well for me. There is a heat wave here and the baths aren’t sapping my strength, but everyone says that one course of treatments won’t do it; one has to come here at least 3 times to get cured. Other than that, there is no news to write. I’ll write you a letter soon – your faithful wife Taube

And then one from my grandfather from Sharon Springs.  I am assuming this one is from mid-July because on July 14 grandma says she got a postcard and found out that he was taking spa treatments.  But I do not know the definite date. Later, July 24, she also mentions getting letters from him.

Much beloved wife: I’m writing to let you know that I’ve had two spa treatments already. Dear Taube, write and let me know how you’re feeling and what they’re writing to you from Auntie.

How are the children doing? Otherwise, I have nothing else to write to you. I send you my regards and kiss you and the dear children. Your faithful husband Nisan

Honestly, I was al ittle disappointed by these postcards. I wish these postcards had more information. But then they were postcards.  You really cannot be intimate or give out real information that anyone could read.

But I have questions:  How did he get the money to afford all of these?  I know his bakery was doing well. But really, 1931, was during the Depression.  He was supporting himself and my grandma in Europe.  Plus paying for all the Spa fees!  I know they did well, but that really surprised me.

I also wonder what was going on with the children (my mother and uncle.)? They were just 2 and 5 years old.  I do have letters in Polish to both my grandmother and grandfather written by the same person, as the handwriting is the same.  I do not yet know who wrote them or what they say.  Perhaps they tell the story of the children.  I hope so.

The Mysterious Kalsbad Photos: Who Are They?
Speaking Yiddish Always Brings Me Holocaust Memories

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Great Aunt Minnie was Basically Another Grandma

17 Mar

I have written about my Grandmother’s two brothers who died relatively young: one as baby, the other in his early 60s.  I did not know them that well.  I decided I should write more about my Aunt Minnie, my grandmother’s older sister, because she was important in our lives. 

Aunt Minnie is in many of my blogs because she was always with us.  When my grandmother moved to Co-op City in the Bronx in the late 1960s, Aunt Minnie moved to Co-op City in the Bronx, in an apartment directly under my grandparents.

When my grandparents came up for the summer to the Catskills, Aunt Minnie came up for the summer to the Catskills and stayed in the same bungalow with my grandparents.  I honestly do not know how they did that.  My grandparents had the bedroom, Aunt Minnie slept on trundle bed in the kitchen area.

Every holiday, Aunt Minnie was there.  She was basically another grandmother. She gave us gifts for our birthdays and Hanukkah, $5 each.  She hugged us, she scolded us sometimes, and she told us what to do, just like my two other grandmothers.

My father was the youngest boy. He is the lower right.

Aunt Minnie’s married in 1918. Her husband, Uncle Eli or Uncle Al, died before I was born, in 1949.  They had two sons, who were older than my uncle and my dad. But, in reality, the four boys, and then my aunt who was the youngest, were basically raised together.  Part of the reason is that my great grandparents lived with my grandparents.  My grandfather and great grandfather worked together in a tailor shop they owned. (See blog below.) Family gatherings were always at their apartment in the Bronx.

With all that togetherness, what amazed me is that one of Aunt Minnie’s sons, Victor,  married and moved to New Orleans.  He left the fold.  The other, David, met a lovely woman in England during World War Two and brought into the family a British war bride who was not Jewish, but by the time I can remember she was a loved member of the family.   In our family these two men were known as Cousin Victor and Cousin David.  They weren’t uncles, but they were not to be called by their first name alone.  And their wives were also referred to as cousin, before their first names.

Cousin David had two children, who I won’t name because they are still living.  However, I will tell you one story about Cousin David.  He had a very bad stutter growing up and into his adulthood.  When he was anxious he would stutter then slowed his speech till it stopped.  As a child, I had a bad speech impediment.  I started meeting with a speech therapist before I even started school and continued through eighth grade.  This made me very shy and wary of speaking to strangers.  Cousin David was my advocate.  At every family event we both attended he would stop to talk to me to give me coping skills which I still use today.  I am very adept in the middle talking to switch words because a word I can say today, I might now be able to say tomorrow.  I have a thesaurus of words sitting in my mind  waiting for an emergency.  Cousin David’s advice has been well used over the decades.

Another little Cousin David story.  My father is also named for the same person David was named for. But my dad had a different first name that began with D, only his Hebrew name was David.  This goes back to my Grandma Esther’s dislike of being one of five girl first cousins named Esther. (See blog below.)

Cousin Victor and his wife lived in New Orleans and had three children.  I did not know them at all. I remember meeting them at my wedding, when they came up for the celebration.  My Aunt Minnie had died about two years before when she was in her early 80s, and I think the cousins decided that they needed to celebrate together not just go to funerals.  One spring break we took our children to New Orleans and spent time with Cousin Victor and met his son and his family.  Once again, I won’t name them.

 But I will say that Cousin Victor’s son died late last year.  He and I kept in touch over the years as I sent him updates on my family discoveries.  When my daughter went through a pregnancy crisis, he was so supportive as his daughter had gone through a similar crisis several years previously.  He spent hours on the phone with me one day helping me sort through all the emotions this caused.  I always enjoyed my contact with him.  And I will miss him.  We often would say how much our dads and grandmothers would like knowing that we continue to keep in touch.

Aunt Minnie and my Grandma Esther are forever entwined in my mind and in my heart.

Sisters: Grandma Esther and Aunt Minnie

https://zicharonot.com/2015/10/10/12-delancey-street-and-my-family/

https://zicharonot.com/2017/11/16/too-many-esthers/

https://zicharonot.com/2024/02/25/uncle-sammy-presents-a-surprise/

Baby Jacob is Found

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The Importance of My Grandma’s Illegal 1931 Abortion

16 Jun

In 1931 a 25-year-old mother of two young children was pregnant with her third pregnancy.  It was twins.  But whereas her other pregnancies went fine this one was not going well at all. In fact, her kidneys were failing, probably due to eclampsia. If nothing was done, she and the fetuses she carried would all die.  Abortion was not legal in 1931.  But someone saved her.  Someone, I am told a doctor, provided her an illegal abortion. 

That woman was my grandmother.  She lived.  

“Preeclampsia may lead to kidney disease by causing acute kidney injury, endothelial damage, and podocyte loss. Preeclampsia may be an important sex-specific risk factor for chronic kidney disease,” according to an NIH website.  Although my grandmother did not die in 1931, she was left with failing kidneys.  In fact, she had kidney disease for the next 52 years of her life. 

Grandma decided to go back to Europe with her two children, my Mom and my Uncle, so that when she died they would be raised by their grandmother, as she was sure that she was still going to die. Someone traveled with my grandmother for this trip. In fact, one night she was so sick, they took her up on the deck because she wanted to see the stars one more time before she died.

The doctor who saved her life actually impacted the lives of many people. Because my grandmother lived, my mother and uncle were not left without a mother. Also, as the story continues, because my grandmother lived, others lived as well.

When my Grandmother got to Europe she traveled through Germany to Carlsbad, to take the waters, and then around Poland visiting family for over six months. During these travels her opinion about life in Europe changed drastically. By the end she was much healthier and concerned about taking her children back to the United States to safety.

Why do I say saving her life saved others? She had been traveling through Germany in 1931. She had seen the evil that was taking over Europe with the rise of Hitler.

This is where her surviving preeclampsia and a life saving abortion takes on even more meaning. First, everywhere she went in Poland, she told family and friends to “Get Out! Bad times are coming.” We do not know how many heeded her warning! But we know her story and what she tried to do.

When Grandma came home she had one goal, to get her family and the family of my Grandfather out of Europe! My grandparents worked to bring family members over from Poland and Austria. In the end, they only were able to bring my Grandmother’s father and sister. My Tante was very small for her age, so they changed her age and made her under 21 so she could travel to America on my great grandfather’s papers and visa.

My Tante lived.  She married and had one daughter.  Her daughter married and had three children.  Her children married and among them had 11 children.  

All because my grandmother had an abortion, all because she lived, two people survived and avoided the horrors of the Shoah and 15 descendants were born.  Who knows how many more will be born in the future.

Abortions save lives! The mother’s lives. To me these lives are extremely important. Currently, in this time of legal abortions another relative of mine had eclampsia putting her life and the life of her much wanted fetus at risk. They were both dying in the hospital. The only choice to save one life was an abortion. My cousin lived. Amazingly a year later she was again pregnant and gave birth to a healthy child.

I do not believe anyone, a legislator or a member of the voting public, has the right to tell a woman how to handle her private medical issues. We have HIPAA laws that are supposed to keep our medical history private. What a woman decides, with input from her medical professional, for her own health is her personal business. HIPAA laws are not just for men. They are for everyone.

In the meantime, I support women’s health rights. I support women who make the difficult decision to end a pregnancy. I support their choice and decisions concerning their personal medical health. I know that the right to chose an abortion must remain legal, because I know that saving a mother’s life is vital.

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Vintage Greeting Cards Stir My Imagination

2 Sep

When my grandfather died almost 31 years ago, my mother shipped some furniture to me.  My grandparents’ cherry mahogany bedroom set, a lamp, an old radio cabinet and a few more pieces.  My grandfather had not removed my grandmother’s clothing from the dresser nor the items she had left behind in the radio cabinet that served as a closed bookcase.  My mother did not empty them out either.  She sent the furniture filled with my grandparents’ personal items because she just could not deal with them.

I emptied out the dresser drawers when I received it, donating most of the clothing to charity, the $10 bill I found hidden away, I still have for emergencies.  Although I used the radio cabinet, I left my grandparent’s items inside alongside the items I stored in it.  But recently, when I moved, I emptied out the cabinet and repurposed it as a curio cabinet.  I had looked at the items before this move.  In fact, I wrote a previous blog about my grandmother’s ledger books. (See blog below.). But the other piles I just ignored for 31 years.  Procrastination in dealing with sorrow is strong in my family.

But now I had no excuse.  I had to sort through the piles on the shelves.  My findings included letters that my sister, cousin, Mom and I all wrote to my grandparents. I must admit, most of the ones saved were from me. I think that I wrote the most because I moved to the Midwest.  There were also three letters in Yiddish.  I think they are from my Grandmother’s brother and sister in law.  I have to get them translated.

The antique radio cabinet.

Included in the piles were 116 unused vintage greeting cards from the 1940s, 50s and 60s:  sympathy cards; cards for birthdays, weddings, anniversary; get well cards; birthday cards for grandchildren; holiday cards. 

There was one sister birthday card.  My grandmother was able to save her sister from Poland in 1936 and bring her to the United States. They were extremely close. My great uncle was a baker with my grandfather.  But Grandma never sent this card to my Tante.  I thought, “why waste a good card.” I recently sent it to my sister, whose birthday is this month.  I think she will like it!

Card I sent my sister.

Among these vintage cards were two that really touched my heart. Created by American Greetings, these 25 cent cards were birthday cards for twins.  Why would Grandma buy birthday cards for twins? We knew no twins; we had no twin cousins; why?

I think I know.  I my theory with my sister.  We will never know, but it could be.  I honestly wish I could ask her.  But when I was a teenager, I learned her story.

The two twin cards.

We did not have living twins in our family.  But in 1930 my grandmother was pregnant with twins.  She already had two children. My uncle about 3 or 4 and my Mom was about 18 months when my grandmother was pregnant again.  At 24, she was not in good health.  Her childhood in Poland and surviving WWI had left its mark on her health.  Her kidneys were failing.  The doctor said she had to terminate the pregnancy or she and the baby would die (They did not know it was twins till after.).

And so the pregnancy was terminated.  Abortion was illegal in 1930.  However, Grandma was able to have the abortion by a physician.  Could it be that she was so sick, they had to do anything to save her life?  I assume so.  After the abortion they found out that she was carrying twins.

How do I know all of this?  My grandmother and my mother told me.  My sister knows as well. It was not a secret.  My grandmother was always open about how terminating the pregnancy saved her life.  She never got pregnant again.  I assume my grandparents were very careful.  

But after the abortion, my Grandmother was still quite ill. Her kidneys were still failing. She was so ill that she decided she had to go back to Europe and give her children to her in-laws as she was sure she was going to die.  She did not die and she returned to the USA with her children and then worked to get the family out of Europe.   (I wrote a blog about this as well, see below.). It was the abortion, the illness and this trip that led to my grandmother saving her sister’s life! 

When I saw the birthday cards for the twins.  My memory of my Grandmother telling me about this lost pregnancy came into my mind.  Did she ever think about all that happened because she ended the pregnancy? Did she buy these cards for the children who did not live?  Where they often on her mind? Did she celebrate their birthday privately?  

I will never know. 

My Grandma’s Ledger Books Remind Me of Her Financial Lessons

The Mysterious Kalsbad Photos: Who Are They?

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Bright Smiles

16 Jan

I absolutely love this photo.

It is 1951. My parents are engaged. Dad is in the army and will be deployed to Japan and then Korea. They will marry in June 1951, when he is on a two-week leave before his deployment.

In this photo, my Mom, far left, is with her future family. My father’s sister, mother and grandmother. (My Aunt Leona, or Yoey, Grandma Esther, and my Great Grandma Rae.) I believe it is at the shower held at my Grandma’s apartment in the Bronx, when Mom met all the women in the family. We actually have a movie of this event.

I love their smiles and faces of joy. My Grandma is looking at my Mom with so much love.

I smile whenever I see this.

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Bells Chiming Make Me Feel Better

15 Jul

When I was a child, and home sick, my mother would give me a little bell to ring if I needed her.   My brother and sister also had the use of the bell when they were sick.  I loved that bell.  I knew as long as I had that bell, my Mom or my Dad would come into the room and make me feel better just by being there. Its sound brought me comfort.

img_4176

Space shuttle bell on the left; Tinkerbell bells in the back.  Chilean bells in the front.

So, of course, when I had children, I also wanted them to have a special bell to ring for me.  I tried many.  For my daughter, I tried a little plain bell first.  But the sound was really dull.  With her bedroom upstairs, I needed something that would sound better and stronger.  We found one in Disney World.  A little Tinkerbell bell that was perfect, as my daughter loved Tinkerbell.   In fact, my Dad would call her ‘Tink’ all the time.  Although in reality, she thought she was Tigerlily.  That is a story for another day!

When that Tinkerbell bell eventually broke from use, we purchase a new one. It was not the same for her.  Too bright, not darkened with use.  But luckily, we were able to rehang the original bell, fixing it and reclaiming its tinker.

For my son, I purchased a bell from the Kennedy Space Center.  I am not sure why the space center sold bells, but the sound was good.  Since my son liked space ships and rockets, this bell was perfect for him, with its dangling space shuttle.

Whenever they were sick, I would give each of them their special bell to call me when needed.  Did it always work?  No, not often.  Usually they would just call me, and I would come. But for me it was a comfort to know they had a bell.  In my mind, having a bell was about continuity and love. By giving them a bell, I was giving them the power to bring me to them, like a magical wish.

I always have been attracted to the sound of bells. I love listening to handbell choirs. There was even a Hershey’s television commercial that used chocolate kisses as bells.  I loved it.  So when I travel, if I see an interesting bell, I am attracted to it.    I did fine some lovely bells in Chile a few years ago. To be honest, although they are lovely to look at, they do not sound good at all.   In fact, no bell quite sounds as good as my mother’s bell.

Actually, I have my mother’s bell, so I really need no other.   I believe my Mom brought to me when she came to visit one time because she knew my attachment to it.   I keep it in my family room.

It is a small brass bell, with a bit of red trim, set in a holder.  On the bottom it says “Made In India.”  But 60 years ago, when my mother first had this bell, I do not think there were many things from India for sale in the USA.  I now know that it is called an elephant claw bell, because of the shape of the bottom.   I have seen several similar bells with base for sale on line.  Sometimes they are called “antique ceremonial meditation bells.”

I can see it being a meditation bell, as It has the loveliest of tones. My bell has the same tones as those used by my yoga instructor to indicate the end of class.  But for my bell, when I ring it, my soul and heart returns to those happy memories. And I see my Mom in my mind — my young mom, the mother of three small children.

Another bell was important to my family. We used it only in the Catskills, my Mom and my Grandma used a large metal dinner or cow bell to call us to come in.  The bell hung outside the door of my grandparents’ house, facing the back towards our bungalow.  We had four acres of land including woods, so they often did not know where we, the children, were playing. Sometimes we were at our neighbors’ yards playing. It did not matter, when heard that large bell ringing, we knew to come.

Grandma would also ring that bell when she wanted one of us to come down to her house to get something or do something for her.  My mother would ring to bring us in, yelling our names along with sounding the bell.  It was used daily.  When she had grandchildren, my Mom used the bell to call them in as well.

Th bell is still at our Catskills’ home waiting for another generation to be called. Its loud clanging, not so beautiful in tone, but beautiful in memories.

The sound of bells chiming almost always puts me in a good mood and make me feel better.

 

 

 

https://www.thetabernaclechoir.org/videos/carol-of-the-bells-mormon-tabernacle-choir.html

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pe4IZ7aGikw

 

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My Great Uncle Discovered In A Wonderful Photo

14 Jun

Once again, I browsed through my grandmother’s mystery photo album trying to identify more of the many photos from Europe.  This time I had success.

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I noticed a familiar face among a photo of six men playing cards and smoking.  All were young, well dressed, and looked posed to me.  But seated on the left side, I noticed someone who looked like my great uncle Isaac.  When I studied in Israel during 1974-75, I spent much time at my great uncle and great aunts’ home in Kiryat Haim, near Haifa.  I also brought my grandmother to Israel in 1976, when she saw her brother in the first time in over 40 years.  (See blog below.)

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The back of the photo had a stamp from Boleslawiec, and I knew that was my grandmother’s home town.  So it would make sense that Uncle Isaac would be in a photo taken there.  And also, a short message was written in Yiddish, right over the spot where Uncle Issac was sitting on the front side of the photo.  I thought I could make out the name Izhak.

Thank you to Esther, another member of The Tracing the Tribe Facebook group.   She translated the back for me. “This is brother, Itzek.”  Itzek was what my grandmother called her brother.  I was right.  I correctly identified another photo.   Or at least one person in the photo!

I wish I knew the identities of the other young men. I am thinking they were friends, or perhaps cousins.  He had a brother, but I would assume, David would have been identified in the photo also.

By the time this photo was taken, my grandmother was living in the United States.  She left Poland in 1922, when she was 16, the oldest of the children.  I would assume this photo was taken sometime in late 1920s early 1930s, before the world changed.

Each time I identify another of these photos, I feel a moment of pure joy.  I have written a number of blogs about these photos.  Several of them are listed below.

 

PS. Uncle Issac is the one who made a jacket for my Mom,  which I wrote about here: https://zicharonot.com/2019/05/20/this-jacket-is-a-survivor/

 

Speaking Yiddish Always Brings Me Holocaust Memories

https://zicharonot.com/2018/12/06/identifying-a-photo-is-hanukkah-miracle/

https://zicharonot.com/2018/07/15/boleslawiec-pottery-pieces-create-a-feeling-of-despondency/

https://zicharonot.com/2016/10/01/the-rosh-hashannah-card-has-a-story/

 

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Halvah, My Favorite Childhood Treat

26 Dec

Sometimes walking through a store brings back a memory. It happened to me today. One minute I was walking through a grocery store in Holon, Israel, with my daughter. And in an instant I was transported back in time and place. I was in my grandparents’ bakery in West New York, New Jersey.

I am sitting at the counter while my grandparents work. In front of me are three large rectangles of a most delicious treat, halvah. My favorite, marble halvah, is in the middle. And I so want to eat some of this sesame and sugar delight. My grandmother sees me sitting there. “Just take a small piece,” she says. And I do. I carry the love of halvah with me till now.

After some weekend visits, Grandma would send a half-inch slice home with me. My father and I were the biggest halvah fans. We would savor that slice, trying to make it last for a week. A feat that was a bit difficult to achieve!

After my grandparents closed their bakery to retire, my Dad would go to the local deli to buy halvah to satisfy our family’s cravings. My sister also loved the marble halvah. She remembers, “The halvah from the deli came wrapped in wax paper inside the white deli paper, like how lox came. I think because of the innate oiliness.”

In the summertime we could always get halvah at the bakery in Monticello or the deli. Halvah was always part of our life. But moving to the Midwest took me away from this treat.

In Kansas I never see full chunks of halvah. If I am lucky I find packaged process halvah By ‘Joyva’. However it is not the same. I have not tasted this treat in at least four years, since I don’t like the taste of the processed packaged squares of what should be a delectable treat that melts in my mouth.

The sign says “Halvah and sweets.”

But there in the large supermarket, Hetzi Hinam, was an entire counter of halvah with many different flavors. It called out to me. It took me back in time. I craved it. My daughter told me to get some. But I decided no, I just took a picture. I have been regretting that decision since we came home.

I have been going through every instance of halvah memory when I was denied my treat. When my husband, then fiancée, and I were in school, I kept my halvah in his refrigerator wrapped in a plastic bag with a handwritten sign saying this was mine, “Do Not Eat”. I would bring the halvah back from New Jersey to Missouri for those moments when I really needed cheering up. You can imagine my furious anger when I found out my husband’s roommate, David, ate my halvah without my permission. Let’s just say he never did that again.

My disappointment that day was overwhelming, I can still feel my anger even now 40 years later. So although my angst is not that bad today, I keep thinking, why. Why did I deny myself this treat? I could have purchased just a small chunk. But I said no.

Part of it, I think, is that I have such high expectations of halvah. I know what I remember it should taste like. But after eating those packaged chunks I have been disappointed. So I think seeing all those lovely rectangles made me a bit afraid. What if this halvah’s taste did not match my memory?

When I had it four years ago, I also purchased it in Israel. My daughter was living in Tel Aviv then, and I purchased a piece at a little shop. It was delicious. Perhaps my fears are unfounded. I should have purchased some! I could be eating a piece right now!

Instead I am here writing about halvah, remembering the taste, and wishing I had purchased just a bit of my favorite childhood treat.

Perhaps we can go back or find another store!

For those who wonder, according to Wikipedia, “The word halva entered the English language between 1840 and 1850 from the Yiddish halva(Hebrew: חלווה‎), which came from the Turkish helva (حلوا), itself ultimately derived from the Arabic: حلوى‎ ḥalwá, a sweet confection .“

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My Grandma Was One Determined Lady!

9 Jul

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My elegant grandmother.

This is my favorite photo of my paternal Grandmother.  Every time I look at it, I just have a moment of joy.

Grandma was born in November 1898 in New York City.  I am thinking that this photo was taken in the about 1918 – 1921.  It is definitely before my grandparents married, as I do not see a wedding ring on her finger, and they married on February 26, 1922.

I love this pose!   The message I always got from this photo is that Grandma is ready to go and conquer the world.    She is elegant.  I love all aspects of this outfit from the hat, to the fox stole, to the beaded purse.  I especially love the high heeled shoes. Grandma had a long history with shoes!

Grandma was a force to be reckoned with on any topic.  And this photo makes me think she was that way as a young woman as well.  She is not facing forward like 95 percent of the other photos I have seen.  No! She is posed ready to move… elegantly of course.

She married the tailor who worked with her father.  She had three children.  She worked for years as an executive secretary for a shoe company, which had its offices across the street from Macy’s.  (See blog below.)

Grandma worked until she was 77.  The only reason she quit was because of a subway accident.  She was pushed/shoved on the steps to the subway.  She might have been mugged.  I believe her purse disappeared that day.  She broke her arm in the fall.   After that incident, her three, now adult, children said, “Enough!  She had to quit her job!”  They did not want her taking the subway anymore.

Grandma did not want to quit.  But she did in 1975.  Part of her willingness to quit might have been the timing. The shoe industry was no longer flourishing, in fact it was dying anyway due to the cheap imports coming from overseas.

When I saw the play Kinky Boots, I thought of my Grandma. I had so much empathy for Charlie and his efforts to save the shoe factory! I remembered how difficult it was for my Grandma as the shoe business disappeared.  You would have thought she owned the company!

After she retired Grandma spent much more time knitting sweaters and afghans for her children and grandchildren and great grandchildren. She was a wonderful baker. And always made us great treats.  When I was away at college grandma would send me care packages of baked goods.  She was an inspiration to me. (See blog below.)

To me this photo is the essence of my Grandma. Perhaps others will see something else in this photo, but to me it is a young woman doing something a bit differently.  This photo also reminds me of one of my cousins.  She also likes to do everything her own way.  And in this profile, I see them having the same face.

I try to imagine what Grandma was thinking when this photo was taken.   But more important, I think about who she became and the impact she had on those who loved and cherished her.

 

https://zicharonot.com/2017/11/22/i-love-macys-thanksgiving-day-parade/

https://zicharonot.com/2014/02/13/knitting-and-crocheting-brings-love-and-memories/

12 Delancey Street and My Family

 

 

 

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My Grandma’s Favorite Photo

7 Jul

Grandma's Favorite photo

This is my Grandma’s favorite photo of herself.  She loved it so much that she took another photo taken the same day and cut her head out to put on an membership card. It caused a major fuss that summer in the Catskills! A fuss that lasted several days!

We (my Mom, sister and I) asked why she had cut up that photo of her at 17 or 18, when she was already in her 60s when she used it.  Her answer:  It was her favorite photo and she wanted to use it!

Grandma Thelma

Here it is!  You can even see the staple holes in the photo where she stapled it on to the membership card!  I am not sure what the card was for.  It was not an official government ID.  It must have been for some local group.  I honestly do not remember. (My sister reminded me that the card was for a local senior center.)

I do remember that my Mom was so angry when she saw that Grandma had used this photo and destroyed the original!   I believe it was also my Mom’s favorite photo of her mother as a young woman.  My Mom and Grandma actually got into a major discussion, read that as argument, over this.  But it was too late, the photo was already destroyed. Grandma had thrown away the pieces.

My Mom never knew, because I guess Grandma never told her, that there were several other photos from the same day upstairs in an album the attic.  Unfortunately they both had died before we found the album that had these photos taken of my Grandma and her first cousin, Katie.

If you look at it carefully, you can see in the image we have, Grandma is not wearing the pearls. I assume that the pearls belong to my Aunt Gussie, Katie’s mom.  In the photo that Grandma truly loved, she is wearing the pearls.  A telling gesture. As an adult, pearls played an important role in my Grandma’s life.  Eventually she had many strands of real pearls!

Grandma favorite photo

I think my Mom would have been much happier if she knew that other photos existed.

I understand why Grandma used this photo.  I do not think she ever felt pretty.  She told me many times that growing up they called her Luchen, or noodle or string bean, because her arms and legs were too long for her body. She hated being called that nick name.

My Grandfather, on an audio tape we have from November 1981, a few months after Grandma died, even said that Grandma was not pretty, but she had something special about her.  And so he fell in love with her.

Grandma was bright, intelligent, spoke, read and wrote in several languages.  I thought she was lovely.

Now as a woman in my 60s, I think I understand why she used this photo.  When I look in the mirror, I do not always see someone my age.  I expect to see a much younger person. Sometimes I am surprised.  Recently I said something about it to my husband.  And his response made me think of this photo, as he said,  “You will never look 25 again.”  Sigh.  That was the age I was when we married.

This photo of Grandma was taken a year or two before she married my Grandfather. Perhaps she felt as I, and was remembering the young Thelma. That is how she saw herself, and so that is the photo she used.

(I am thinking about Grandma now, as her birthday was in July.  We will soon mark what would be her 112 birthday.  Although she is gone, her memory continues as a blessing.)

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