Dei'ah veDibur - Information & Insight
  

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25 Kislev 5765 - December 8, 2004 | Mordecai Plaut, director Published Weekly
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HOME & FAMILY

Days of Yore in Jerusalem
by Esther Weil

A personal story

Part II

There was mutual help with the food. The entire neighborhood participated in preparing food for the seudas mitzva of a neighbor who married off a child. Because there weren't any refrigerators, the preparations were begun the day before the wedding. Everyone took upon herself to cook or bake something for the meal.

"Trama" in Real Life
And Hashem's Kindness Throughout it All

A true story by Rifca Goldberg

Part III

We follow Rifca to Schneider's Hospital in Petach Tikva. Her eight-year-old son was discovered to have an egg-size growth behind his eye that has to be removed. We pray along with her...

Why are we Choking Ourselves?
by Raizel Foner

"Why are we choking ourselves?!"

Miri almost dropped the pot she was washing. "What are you talking about, Dovid? You're choking? You don't feel well?"

A True Tale of Ascent

by Chava Dumas

Not endorsing any particular place, we still appreciate the idea of family togetherness and outings. This particular story took place Bein Hazemanim.

LETTERS, FEEDBACK

Response to Risa Rotman's "Lost and Found".

CREATIVITY CORNER
An Ancient and Inexpensive Chanukia

by Devora Piha

Clay, the very stuff that we are made of! Besides half a dozen good reasons for using this medium, it is also therapeutic, says Devora.

And for our Linguistic Corner, the word clay is certainly derived from the Hebrew `kli,' or archetypal vessel. And how about going one step further to `kol,' everything. Earth- clay, the building block of the material world.

Eggs & Cholesterol!
by Dr. Reuven Bruner, Ph.D.

Ounce for ounce, eggs have a lot more cholesterol than any other food. It's all in the yolk, which contains over two- thirds of the suggested daily limit for cholesterol. At the same time, eggs are rich in protein, B vitamins, iron and other minerals.

Your Medical Questions Answered!
by Joseph B. Leibman, MD

As you have read in the Yated, I have been appointed to run the emergency department at Bikur Cholim. While I still am at Tel HaShomer hospital, let me explain what was behind my decision.

POET'S CORNER

Money, Money, Money
by Lori Rubabshi
to the tune of "Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel"


I found a buried treasure behind the kitchen sink
The faucet poured out money, instead of what to drink.

Oh money, money, money,
No minus anymore,
I'm living on the plus side,
Instead of living poor.

I paid off city taxes, electric, gas and mayim,
And told them in the future, I'll pay the bills on time.

Chorus

I paid my kids' tuition, quite overdue, I'd say,
And gave a large donation, for kids who couldn't pay...

I went to do some shopping, and had a lot of fun,
I bought some toys and clothing, and gifts for everyone...

I bought a large apartment, a minivan in blue,
I bought for friends and family and gave tzedoka too...

The shopping made me tired, I napped to an extreme,
I slept until my husband awoke me from my dream.

Oh money, money, money,
No money anymore!
Again I'm in the minus,
And back to living poor.

[By the way, why do you think they eat sufganiyot in Israel rather than potato latkes? Because flour was always cheaper than potatoes.]

We all do some star gazing on Chanuka nights...

Star Gazing

by Lori Rubabshi

Star light, star bright,
Hanging in the sky tonight,
Oh, the wonder that you show,
With your glitter and your glow.

Miles and miles and far away,
My mother greets another day.
Frequent phone calls help us feel
The separation's not so real.

Mom just said the other night,
That she beheld a touching sight,
A star was hanging in the sky,
And so, she thought, if she could try
Imagining that I also knew
To gaze up at the darkened blue,
As if we both could samely see,
The light above both her and me,
Then somehow both our hearts would touch,
And distance wouldn't seem so much.

4:45 p.m. in the Old City

by Ruth Fogelman

4:45 p.m.
With a brisk step
I hurry through the darkening tunneled alley
Past black-suited men crouching near each entranceway.
Why do they face the wall and bend so low?

4:47 p.m.
The stooped figures now stand erect,
The olive oil lamps of their Chanukiyos
Outside each entrance
Now brightly light the cobbled alley
And verses of Maoz Tzur
Ring through the newly-fallen night.

*

And a cotton-candy-fluff poem, no name,

by Drora Matlofsky

Baby
Pink pink
Crying crying crying
Tired tired tired tired
Motherhood.


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