The Schwartzes moved to Newark in 1946 after suffering through Auschwitz. Reb Meir became a baker and his wife Hinda was a stay-at-home balabusta. They wanted to rebuild. As fellow survivors were blessed with children the Schwartzes waited in anticipation. They were both full of hope for a brighter future after their dismal past.

They lived in Weequahic in Newark's South Ward. It was a Jewish middle-class neighborhood a place where most families dreamed of saying “My son the doctor.” During the 1950s the local high school graduated more future PhDs than any other school in the country. There were shuls and kosher restaurants. The Jews “built” Newark Beth Israel Medical Center and life was good.

Unfortunately the Schwartzes were unable to build a family of their own. In the late 1970s they moved to Elizabeth and then to Passaic to be near their only surviving relative a niece. They moved near my shul and became unassuming members.

This Pesach their niece was away and they agreed to join us at the Seder. They asked what they could bring. Although we were touched by their offer we told the nonagenarian couple that the most precious gift they could bring was themselves.

On Erev Pesach -- while I was grinding the maror and checking the lettuce -- Reb Meir rang my bell. He was carrying a dusty old bottle of wine in the crook of his tattooed arm. “I would like to bring you this bottle of wine.” I took one look at the old bottle and thought There's no way I'm going to serve this old and probably spoiled wine at my Seder. I thanked Mr. Schwartz and hid the bottle in the cabinet hoping it wouldn't be found with the afikomen.

That night as I was about to begin Kiddush my daughter asked “Ta aren't you going to use the wine Mr. Schwartz brought?” I always wonder at the knack kids have of saying exactly what you don't want them to say. Thinking fast I announced in a Solomonic tone that I would pour a little bit of the “special” wine into everyone's cup for a taste.

When we reached the kos shel Eliyahu my daughter had another bright idea. “Let's use their wine for Eliyahu s cup. Eliyahu will bring us the Geulah and the Schwartzes were saved and now they're our family. Let's use their wine for the kos of Geulah!”

Mr. Schwartz hadn't said a word the entire Seder. Now however after my daughter spoke Mr. Schwartz broke his silence. He told her “The wineis old. In fact it is 75 years old. My father made it before the war. When the war ended I went back 'home.' I looked around our looted house and saw a partially exposed bottle of wine under one of the floorboards. This was the only thing I have from my father. I carefully kept the wine with me for 68 years. My plan was to use the wine at my son's bris and chuppah; however Hashem thought otherwise and the wine remained unused. I decided to bring it tonight. Who knows how much longer I will be in This World? But now after your daughter mentioned how we are part of your family I was consoled as I am a part of the rebirth of the Jewish community. So while things did not turn out as I planned I know that He has a plan and that it is good.”

There wasn't a dry eye in the house.

And to think I'd wanted to hide the bottle.