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With tears rolling down my face, I tried again. “Zot ha’ima sheli. She’s my mother. Please let me in”

From that moment on, every meal, and I mean every meal, was punctuated by passionate singing of the “Rebbetzin song”

I wasn’t sure how my appearance would go over with the old crowd. I was certain that my new style would trigger confrontational questions, maybe even mockery

Who knows what she has sacrificed, this small, lone woman who embraces the Torah with strong skinny arms?

“Look at him, at him, behind the stained shirt and missing teeth, and you can’t help loving him, he’s another Jew”

Add good food, company, and a story retold for generations, and you have the scene set for the tale of Zeidy z”l and the walnut