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Talking to your kids about the Holocaust by Natalie Blitt

My friends think I’m obsessed with the Holocaust. My husband claims that I can’t have breakfast without talking about it. They are all exaggerating of course, but the truth is not far away: the Holocaust is a crucial part of my identity as a person and as a Jew. I am the grandchild of four survivors. My father was born in the summer of 1942 in a tiny town in the northwest corner of the Ukraine. You can imagine it didn’t go well from there.

My Brother’s Keeper by Yael Ribner

Tonight marks the beginning of Yom Hashoah – Holocaust Remembrance Day. Here is a piece written by Yael Ribner several years ago for ChallahCrumbs. The message is relevant today.

Names, Part One: The Grandparents

Some several years ago when I was born, a few years before the middle of the last century in fact, they gave me a name; and in those early years, I assumed that the name they gave me was the name by which I would always be known. My parents called me by that name — and my teachers and my friends and my parents’ friends and the men in shul on Shabbat. I had a name and that was who I was.

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Names, Part Two: The Grandchildren by Gary Levine

Naming children seems to be an art that is balanced on a shaky tightrope strung between tradition and prevailing practice.

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The Grandma Track by Tami Lehman-Wilzig

My Recipe for a Stress-Free, Fun-Filled Seder Night

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