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Articles by Faigy Schonfeld
Shabbos Sacrifice
ne fall morning in 1956, the phone rang in the Chevron yeshivah office.O“Can you call Chaim Rottenberg?” the caller asked.
Wedding Plans - Mishpacha
E very kallah is radiant, Molly thinks, but some are just… peaches and cream. Roses and tulips. Nechama doesn’t see her watching; she glitters, eyes clear, cheeks pink, clasping an older woman’s hand in both her own and telling her something earnestly. She is so beautiful and so good, it breaks Molly’s heart. Molly coughs past the roughness in her chest. Chava Kirschenbaum squeezes her shoulder. Bracha, the chassan’s mother, is busy receiving a round of air-kisses from a cadre of rebbetzins.
Double the Company, Half the Time
Illustration by Esti Friedman-Saposh The Man Joe Blumenthal, age 36 4 kids Educator/Administrator Fair Lawn, NJ The Boys Eitan and Koby, ages 11 and 9 My wife has been bugging me to do this, and I finally caved when she suggested we choose a summer week when I am not working and the kids have no homework. I am a teacher and have off for the summer, while my wife works the same schedule year-round. We ended up choosing this week, as she was taking a course and I knew she would appreciate the break.
Budapest Silence
Photo: Shutterstock I f there’s one thing that strikes me about Budapest it’s the silence. It rings. Oh it’s busy full of tourists and beggars and honking cars. But still it’s silent. Friday night in Budapest; something sad and beautiful and bittersweet riffles through the dry August air. We walk as the sky turns lilac then purple and people rush about oblivious to the soft whispers of an arriving queen.
Choosing Joy - Mishpacha
A long wait at the doctor’s office is not what I wanted today, on Erev Succos. There’s too much joy in the cool autumn breeze. The avenues look like a massive circus, replete with tents of tinsels and gaudy decorations. I sigh, tired and happy, and wait. The heady fragrance of pending holiday is compounded by the magic of a kicking little being inside me. It’s been a long pregnancy, as pregnancies tend to be, and I’ve been dreaming lately of baby fragrance, buttery skin, and delicious, tiny things.
Galus Child - Mishpacha
I‘ve seen the Holocaust its remnants. I’ve been to Majdanek to Auschwitz; tasted the blood and ash and thickness of its air. I’ve walked the noisy streets of Krakow skeletal bare of what once was. I explored Budapest’s busy avenues pulsing with humanity and emptiness of all that had been. And now I see The Children’s Forest. A rather unremarkable forest, somewhere in the thick of Poland.
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