Here in Highland Park, New Jersey

I’ve been waiting a year to use that photo. Yes, that is the liberty bell, a copy of the one in Philadelphia. I believe the bell and parts of the park were donated by Americans and Canadians, the bell in particular by Americans in 1976. One year ago today we were in that park; on July 4th itself we were on a plane, flying back to New Jersey.

So, what does the United States of America mean to you? I am especially interested to hear if you do not live here.

As I have talked a bit about my mother’s parents (see, for example, Greetings from Mariampole), now I am going to mention my father’s parents. In brief, when my grandmother was a little girl in a shtetl (I always think of a shtetl house as one that had dirt for floors instead of wood or linoleum or marble or whatever – she lived somewhere in the Austro-Hungarian Empire) she had to hide under a bed to protect herself from a pogrom. Soon after that, she and her family came to the United States of America, to New York City. On my grandfather’s side, his family came from Poland (from Głogów or Glogov). He and his siblings were fortunate to come in the early part of the twentieth century; he had cousins, however, that were caught in Europe in World War II. Supposedly, they hid from the Nazis and survived by hiding in the sewers. I feel so fortunate to have escaped these experiences (a pogrom and hiding in a sewer). And to have a beautiful family and home, and to be able to express myself without fear. Well, maybe a little, the general “opening up in public” kind of fear, not the Stalinist lock you up in jail sort. My maternal grandmother once spent the night in jail in the Soviet Union, but that is a topic for another time. I don’t even know that much to tell about it.

Perhaps this is taken in Far Rockaway? They did live there for a while when I was little. Any New Yorkers know?

Your turn.

It’s birthday night here in our home, as two family members share a birthday. We (three of us) are making a special dinner for the other two. I think I better get downstairs to help with the cake, as soon as I finish this post. Do you have a special way of celebrating birthdays?

The cake above was made last summer for my daughter’s birthday. Can you guess how I made the cake pink?

Okay, now tell me a bit about how you celebrate birthdays!

This is a photo of my grandfather(1879 – 1938) whom I never met. When my father moved to Highland Park from the Boston area, he gave me a photo album that had belonged to my mother. The photos are from the late 19th century through the 1940’s. I have been going through the album a little at a time, and I only had the emotional energy to scan in one photo. I was going to scan another Mariampole photo, but somehow I got stuck on this one.

My grandfather’s name was Solon Friede. There was a blog discussion recently about names; in the discussion the question of naming after a relative came up. I can’t imagine having a child named Solon. As his Hebrew name is translated to Shlomo, my brother received that name as a middle name. My father had a brother named Shlomo who had died in his twenties, so the Shlomo was also for him. Do you have a naming tradition in your family? I am glad that my eldest and youngest bear the names of precious dead relatives. My middle son, who was born a few months after my paternal grandmother died, received a Hebraicized, masculine version of her name as a middle name. But there is an Aidel (her Yiddish name, in English she was Ida) in Brooklyn who is named for my paternal grandmother.

More on my grandfather in this post
About the Jews of Lithuania, where my grandfather was born

As this photo is sepia, I am including it in this new meme called Sepia Scenes.
Thank you, Mary!

My mother died ten years ago today. It is her yahrzeit, the anniversary of her death. I lit a memorial candle for her last night, and I had a few friends over for what I call a leil zicharon (night of remembering) or an azkara (memorial).

Pictured in the above photo is a happy little Leora (age 7?) celebrating her birthday with her mom (I hope you aren’t confused by the “her”; I mean “my”, but the 7-year-old seems like a different person). My mother was great at celebrating birthdays.

A few past posts about my mom:
Birthday Post for Elaine
Mother and Grandmother
Elaine Greets a Model

If you have a loved one to remember, what do you do to remember? My mother-in-law says it never gets easy to remember lost loved ones.

Thursday Challenge: the theme for this week is “LARGE” (Big Things, Tall Things, Buildings, Cars, Airplanes,…).

I’m not big on photographing cars or airplanes or skyscrapers, but I did enjoy watching my daughter dragging that cart around when we went apple picking last Sunday.

My daughter presented her teacher (actually, her assistant Hebrew teacher–she has four teachers total: 1 English, 1 Hebrew, 1 Hebrew assistant, 1 English assistant–and this does not count gym, art, music or library) with this bouquet of flowers from our garden. This was her idea.

How many of the flowers can you name?