Monica’s Moment and Mine
I couldn\’t stop looking at Monica Lewinsky last weekend. Her videotaped deposition played in our house nonstop.
I couldn\’t stop looking at Monica Lewinsky last weekend. Her videotaped deposition played in our house nonstop.
\”A Woman\’s Voice\”
by Marlene Adler Marks
(On The Way Press, $l2.95)
Every Friday afternoon, before Shabbat begins, I go for my Marlene Adler Marks fix.
The world was a different place for writer-director Pavel Vogler when he arrived here from Poland six years ago.
I remember the argument like it was yesterday. There I was, a 10-year-old kid growing up in a Reform congregation in Santa Monica, arguing with my best friend (another 10-year-old from the same synagogue) about the laws of kashrut for Pesach.
\”There was no magic to our survival. It was sheer, pure, unadulterated luck, for men and women infinitely more worthy perished,\” Congressman Tom Lantos said at an advance screening of \”The Last Days.\”
It must be close to 10 years ago that I met with Dr. Morris Pollard to talk about his son, Jonathan, then serving the life sentence he had been given in 1986 for stealing government secrets and passing them along to Israel.
On a terrible day in 1941, Irene Gut Opdyke saw a Nazi soldier snatch a Jewish baby from his mother and smash him on the ground.
My maternal grandfather was an educated man, and cultured too.
Lisa Weinmann-Myara, a State University of New York graduate who settled in Jerusalem with her Israeli husband 16 years ago, is waging a vigorous defense of her soldier son, who faces a court martial on charges of disgracing himself and the army by allowing a Palestinian mob to steal his automatic rifle when it stormed the car in which he was hitchhiking through the West Bank.
Risa Gruberger, whose children are 8 and 9, hopes they will both grow up loving the Jewish holidays as she does. \”When the weather\’s crisp out,\” says Gruberger, \”I want them to feel they can smell it, they can taste it, that Chanukah\’s coming.