{{location.city}} {{location.region}} {{location.country}}
{{zmanim.engDateString}} / {{zmanim.hebDateString}} / {{zmanim.parsha_shabbos}}
~ {{formatTime(zmanim.sunrise)}} ~ {{formatTime(zmanim.sunset)}} Candles ~ Fri.{{formatTime(zmanim.candle_lighting_shabbos)}}

Sheila Segal

The Silver Menorah

December 13, 2006, by

The story of this silver menorah is the story of four generations spanning three countries. Rochel, a woman of vision, who left Lithuania as a young girl in 1905, and brought up her family in South Africa. Helen, her strong willed daughter, who abandoned her comfortable lifestyle in South Africa for the fledgling State of

The Accident

November 9, 2006, by

I met my friend Sharon for coffee last week when she arrived in Israel for a quick visit. “I’m only here for the week,” she explained with her trademark engaging grin. “I couldn’t miss Danny’s bar mitzvah at the kotel.” Good friends had decided to celebrate their eldest son’s bar mitzvah in Jerusalem, and on

Paper Chains

October 5, 2006, by

It is several days before Sukkot in the town of Rechasim. Tobi and Aryeh Miller are packing for their weeklong stay in Yerushalayim, where they are going to spend yom tov with Tobi’s parents. “What do you think about making yom tov here, Tobi? You know that I enjoy going to your folks, but it

Love Your Neighbor

August 24, 2006, by

Every summer when the weather heats up and sane people take refuge inside their apartments, I breathe a sigh of relief when I switch on the air conditioner. Not only for the instant blast of cold air, but also for the sense of satisfaction I get when I hear the whir and hum of the

The Hospital Room

August 16, 2006, by

My sixteen-year-old son bounded too energetically down a flight of stairs and twisted his ankle. No big deal, he thought. He went to the doctor on his own, and the first I became aware of his injury was a phone call from the clinic. “Listen, I can’t treat a minor without parental approval. I need

Mrs. Weiser’s Cheesecake

June 1, 2006, by

Suri wandered through the narrow aisles of the makolet, peering disconsolately at the unfamiliar items. She picked up a package of crackers and examined it carefully. She replaced it on the shelf with a disappointed sigh. The year was 1965 and Suri Schwartz was a new bride who had only recently moved to Eretz Yisroel

Waterfront Beggar

January 12, 2006, by

My Great Aunt Ella was a legend in her own time.  “The Johnny Appleseed of chessed,” one irreverent cousin once declared, after reading a book about the well-known figure, and the name stuck.  In our family, Aunt Ella was the soft touch, the gentle, kindly soul that could see no harm in anyone, even boisterous