Growing up by the sea in Belle Harbor, New York, five decades ago, I never heard of a Hanukkah doughnut. In my Ashkenazi family, Hanukkah fare was potato latkes, served with sour cream and my mother’s freshly made applesauce, or as an accompaniment to brisket.
It’s the time of the year when we begin to talk about oil. Not just the kind that heats homes, but the kind that burned in the Tabernacle of the Temple—that is, olive oil.
Moment remembers DNA pioneer Rosalind Franklin, economist Anna Schwartz & comedy writer Lucille Kallen—three of the many women who did not receive the accolades they deserved in their lifetimes.
A teenager with a big smile grins at the camera. Another waves his hand and keeps moving to stay in the picture. A bearded man is helped down the stairs of a building as groups of young and old crowd the streets of a small town, all anxious to be a part of this remarkable movie.
Maybe you know one. Maybe you want one. Maybe you are one. Go to JDate.com, and you’re guaranteed to find one: “Message me if you are looking for a nice Jewish boy who values family, respect and loyalty.”