Queens Jewish Link
Connecting the Queens Jewish Community 
I have had the z’chus to be a rebbe and guidance counselor in a few wonderful yeshivos during my career in chinuch. One of my talmidim, Yossi Glanz, was a student in my shiur when I was a seventh grade rebbe in Ashar and then again when I was one of his tenth grade rebbeim in Heichal HaTorah. I had, and have, a close connection with Yossi.
There is something special about sitting on the lap of a grandparent. It’s even more special when that grandparent begins to rub or scratch your back.
In celebration of her bas mitzvah last week, my daughter Chayala and I went on a father-daughter outing. No, we didn’t go to Eretz Yisrael, LA, or Miami. Far more exciting than that, we went to visit the land of my youth: Manhattan’s Lower East Side. For me it was a walk down memory lane; for Chayala it was a glimpse into a strange and unfamiliar world.
Although I have been living in Monsey most of my life, for my first eight years, my family lived on the Lower East Side. During those years, the fall season meant that the leaves on that one tree on the corner would fall off because winter was coming. For the most part, however, things looked the same as always.
It’s fascinating how something can be so exciting for one person and so anxiety-provoking and upsetting to another person.
One morning this week, I opened my email to find the following message: “Good morning. There is an inheritance fund left in your name. Thank you.”
I was very excited. I felt honored that some anonymous person would think to leave me an inheritance. I am expecting the money transfer any day now.
