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Personals

Love, Journal Style?

We\’re compiling the best stories of people who met through The Journal to run as part of our 20th anniversary edition.

First Person – My Upfsherin

The upfsherin (hair cutting ceremony) took place on the last day of Shevat — an auspicious time for a healing ritual. The day before Rosh Chodesh (first day of the month) is observed, in the medieval mystical practice of Yom Kippur katan (little Yom Kippur) — a day for cleansing, purification, and preparation — just what shaving my head represented, as I began my fifth week of chemotherapy.

Not Supposed to Be This Way

\”I really loved your story,\” Tante Mina said to me in a nearly inaudible gasp. She looked at me and it gave me hope, for her eyes still held that sparkle, that fight, that desire to live. As I walked out of the critical care unit of the hospital to let the next family member into the room, I had no way of knowing that those would be the last words I would hear her speak.

The Leah Doll

Tante Mina sat on her couch and slowly tore away the wrapping. When the paper fell and she saw the porcelain doll her nieces had molded, painted and dressed for her, her breath caught in her throat and she let out a little gasp. As Tante Mina continued to stare at the doll, Mali, my mother, told her 81-year-old aunt about the next step.

Jewlicious Conspiracy

Parents don\’t understand why 300 young Jews packed the Long Beach Alpert JCC for the Jewlicious sequel on Feb. 17. We came for food and song, complete with banging on the tables and exuberant dancing wherever there was room. At the Sunday night concert, \”Jewbilation,\” you could see the look of shock on the older generation\’s faces as we jammed to Hebrew heavy-metal songs by the Maccabees. This was not your mom\’s \”Oseh Shalom.\”

Age Apparent

Of all the May-to-December romances that were not meant to be, mine must top the list. For starters, I met Rick in a hot tub — a cliché I was sure we could never get over.

First Person – A Miraculous Trip

It was a nippy, star-filled Friday night, and we were on our way to a bar mitzvah. We — Julius, my husband of 50 years; our son, David; and I — had traveled from the Valley to Santa Maria for the celebration.

First Person – Our Sunday Shabbos

The men in our family, the breadwinners, had their eyes fixed squarely on the prize. They were staking their claim to the American Dream, and they weren\’t about to rest when the goyim were working. They would postpone that pleasure for one day and rest when America rests — on Sunday.

First Person – Granny and Sharansky

When my friends Cami and Howard Gordon invited me to an informal dinner with guest speaker Natan Sharansky at their Pacific Palisades home, my first thought was, \”Oh, good, I get to see their new house.\”

The Greatest Game

We sat at my sister-in-law\’s kitchen table, 11 of us from three generations of my husband\’s family, absorbed by a wicked game of dreidel on the fifth night of Chanukah, howling with abandon and anticipation at each seemingly endless spin. My 10-year-old daughter, the youngest present, was killing us all, amassing huge quantities of chocolate gold.

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Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.