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One day I came back from my synagogue and sat down in my room to take breakfast—a bowl of milk and some bread, instead of the compote juice and butter cake that had been my customary…
“Meanwhile months and years disappeared. At twenty-eight I was still without a husband, still an eligible virgin . . . It was spring—free, warm. My heart ached so, I thought I’d go crazy . . . the…
The question arises: How did my mother, who, with her first husband, the feldsher, resided in spacious rooms, with brass handles on the doors, come to be with Father, a village Jew who…