Three Brothers



Every year, on Veterans Day, I am reminded of the WWI fallen from my own family.

This is because, in France, the day is dedicated to celebrating the end of WWI with the signature of the armistice that day.

The picture on this post shows a tombstone in Algiers Jewish Cemetary, the only picture I have of a place I never could visit.
My mother was born there. The tomb is the family’s plot.

These are her mother’s brothers who died during the war ~ and a fourth brother also died in WWII.

My mother’s grandfather ~ the father of these brothers if you follow ~ had been a Colonel in the French Army, at the same time as the famous Captain Dreyfus.

I told a little bit in this post, too.

Jews were very patriotic always, despite antisemitism. It was an honor to send his own sons to serve the country. They paid the ultimate price of this patriotism in what has been dubbed later the worst terrible war and a “butchery”, which it was.

War is ugly.

There is no pretty war.

Veterans who are lucky to come back from wars may have come unarmed in their bodies but their soul is scarred. I cannot even fathom how they can deal with their feelings after they endured and experienced what they did.

We owe them more than just remembering to thank them for their service with gratitude. We do. But we also owe them care and employment and mental health care as a country, not as a charity.

When I remember my own great-uncles whom I never got a chance to meet and who never got a chance to give birth to sons or daughters who would talk about their stories, I also remember their mother, Rachel, my great-grandmother, and Cecile, my mother’s mother who had been the one to share with me about her beloved brothers.

I remember most what was a painful sadness lingering year after year, so strong that I was able to carry it over with me.

I remember the picture of Rachel wearing the signs of her bereavement, that she would never lose until her own death. I can’t fathom the kind of strength you need to muster once you have buried your own sons, one after the other.

My grandmother gave birth to my uncle a few days after her brother was killed, two days before the armistice was signed Nov 11, 1918.


My uncle was named after the young fallen soldier.


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The Month of Gratitude

November is #noticeandsharethegood Month!
I have two sons.
The older – is 22. The younger is 20.
The older is severely autistic. He has no conversational language.
At times he goes above his brother’s head with his own bent head, in a loving gesture of awe, in his own fashion to express tenderness.
That the younger young man never pushes him back nor expresses annoyance is beautiful. Simply beautiful.
I cannot explain how grateful I am for the tender relationship between those two…

Give thanks

There is a tradition in Judaism that we give thanks as soon as we open our eyes when we wake up in the morning.

We are given many opportunities to give thanks from that moment on during the day, and if we can we are urged to do it at least a hundred times each day.

Looking around and finding those opportunities is an exercise in mental health, with more benefits than anti-depressants.

When darkness is growing

With November, in the Northern hemisphere, trees are becoming bare.

Daylight is decreasing.

Soon we feel like we don’t see the sun at all.

It is time to vote in the United States.

A year ago, it did not end well for all those who had not seen it come. Authoritarianism is casting such an ominous shadow that it feels difficult to give thanks for what is happening in the world.

To look for the beauty and the goodness.

To find the helpers.

To keep hope and keep the battle and keep smiling.

Keep voicing your opinions

We can disagree on so many things and still have a civil discussion.

There are so many ways to look at everything.

Just be patient and see the tenderness in a gesture that may be annoying.

Like my son does over and over out of his own love for his brother.

Always see the good in everything may bring surprises. The light will come back.

In the meantime, let us all prepare for the beautiful holiday of Thanksgiving. What will you bring to the table? Let me know!


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As a Thank You for joining my list, I will send you The Elul Series – an accounting of the Soul one day at a time!

Yes, please send me an email when you publish a new blog post!

Survival in A Tough Time

Coffee Shop Rabbi (a.k.a. Rabbi Ruth Adar) expressed feelings and ideas I share in this post I re-post on my own blog today.

I wish I had written what she wrote: her words mirror those that struggled to form in my own overwhelmed mind.

When the only thought that comes to mind is “disaster”, I want to stay strong and helpful. I want to use my personal powers of being alive and able.

Doing one good deed at a time.

Even if that one deed is to continue publishing one blog at a time.

Coffee Shop Rabbi

Image: Sonoma, CA, in better times. (jessebridgewater/pixabay)

Hurricanes. Wildfires.

A little over a week ago we said the Unetaneh Tokef prayer, “Who by water and who by fire,” expressing the fact that we simply do not know what the future will bring each person. And since then, we have seen so many bad things: the aftermath of hurricane and floods in Texas, Florida, and Puerto Rico, and the fires in the West, especially in Northern California this week.

The news from Washington is deeply upsetting to many of us. Who would have thought we’d see a President of the United States have a name-calling match on Twitter with one of the leaders of his own party? Who would have thought we’d see a name-calling game of nuclear chicken play out on Twitter between heads of state?

I have not posted for a week. Some of that was a…

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On this day, April 19, 1943

Ruins of the Warsaw Ghetto

In 1943 this day Waffen SS attacks Jewish resistance in the Warsaw ghetto.

My family lived in France and I learned the history of the Warsaw Ghetto first hand from survivors I met as an adult. None of them are alive anymore, but they passed their memories to me, and for me to remember what happened and how it happened.

Why it happened is another question that I still am asking.

Sometimes, it feels it happened because the younger generations forget or don’t care about what is outside of their immediate preoccupations.

These images are in black and white.

Don’t they look alike images we see every day still? somewhere in the world?

Why should we not remember lest we repeat history?

We, Jews, may be annoying you with our constant remembrance of the Holocaust: denying that it happened is not only painful and offensive, but it is also criminal because it allows the world to become cruel, cynical and self-destroying.

Stories of the resistance are beautiful and inspiring. They are poignant and useful.

Remember. Share. Resist. Grow. Love.

For those who know me 

This 8th of April
For those who know me from there, and for those who know me from here.
For those who share my roots, and for those who love to learn about them.
For those who follow me for my stories, and for those who follow me because they share their course.
Here’s to you on this 8th of April, for now, and forever.
Places are in our hearts even when they can’t be seen anymore.
Thoughts are prayers when they can be said aloud.
Images are memories that can be shared and I am grateful for such a gift of passing along from generation to generation.

A Sparkly Beacon of Hope: the Prospector Theater

There is a wonderful and very unique theater in my neighborhood.

It has delighted me since it opened about three years ago and I could not wait until I had an opportunity to bring my elder son who has severe autism to a movie  I thought he would enjoy.

The Prospector Theater had a sensory screening of “Beauty and the Beast” the other day.

We went and we loved it!

You see, it is a place where all workers are called Prospects and they all fall in the society’s named category of people with disabilities.

It’s a place that is beautiful with a sparkle.

Its welcoming atmosphere goes beyond anything one could dream of: a place where everyone is extraordinary and proud to offer entertainment and respite from the world that is not always as accepting of differences as it should be.

My son immediately beamed at “Bonjour!” of course.

He then delighted in each and every musical scene and was elated with the ballroom extravaganza.

Thanks to the sensory setting the soundtrack was not overwhelming and we were never in complete darkness which helped me too!

There are so many beautiful things about the Prospector theater.

There, everyone is unique and working to make you feel happy and it is not in vain: I came out of the two hours movie as elated as when I was a kid, completely rejuvenated by the love story (I know, I am a total sucker for fairy tales) and by having been able to enjoy the sheer pleasure my very special son obviously experienced.

If you would like to support the mission of this very unique place, you can see their website.
Donate, become a sponsor or simply follow them on social media! Thank you!

Read more about the Prospector Theater: