Esoterica’s Newsletter

The “synagogue” is seen in front on June 22, 2026. To the right is the back of the bar. Thank you for following as I research my memoir-in-progress, “The Synagogue at the End of the World.” Please feel free to subscribe or share. There’s something reassuring about going back to a place you know, one where there’s history.

The Synagogue at the End of the World captures moments of my research for my memoir-in-progress. Thank you for coming along for the ride. “So, why do you call this the not-normal cemetery?” My younger son asked me the question as we made our way through the woods, maneuvering around outstretched branches, while we avoided brushing up against stinging nettles. We were in the outskirts of Napkor, a village in Szabolcs-Szatmár-Bereg county in eastern Hungary, about 250 km from Budapest.

Hiii-yaaa, karate chop, courtesy of Miss Piggy. Such a hot badass porcine. Audio playback is not supported on your browser. Please upgrade. Come with me down the rabbit hole. Support my work by subscribing. Most women have a sixth sense for danger. You know what I am talking about. That feeling that hits you when you walk down a quiet street and a stranger stares at you for a second too long.

These are not “interesting times.” Interesting times assumes a level of intellectual stimulation one can enjoy from a safe distance. No, these are terrifying times, and the New York Times just made them even scarier.

A fragment of brick found behind the synagogue, which I investigated to learn more about its structure. The monthly cost of subscription is roughly equivalent to a Starbucks latte in 1998. Let’s imagine us drinking one together. Please consider a free or paid subscription. Thank you for your support. An article about a recent archeological discovery made me remember something about writing creative nonfiction. Discoveries take time. They are a slow, meticulous brushing away of dirt and debris.

Please follow along as I explore my grandmother’s life before World War II and this little village in Hungary next to the Ukrainian border, where Jews live no longer. It’s hard to say why this synagogue in Beregdaroc, the synagogue at the end of the world as I’ve been calling it, has become so important to me. A couple years ago, I didn’t even know it existed and now it’s become my anchor, rooting me in this village that my family — what was left of them — abandoned over 80 years ago.

Call me vain but I really want that checkmark next to my name. I’ve discounted subscriptions to the cost of a latte in 1998. Thank you for your support. A couple of weeks after October 7, when Israel’s war in Gaza moved into full throttle, a mini battle began to brew in my home. Israel had always been a difficult topic for my partner Isac and I, but I struggled to understand why this new cold front moved into our lives so quickly.

These posts come from the heart, the human heart. If that holds value for you, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Ten years ago, police shot a Black man named Andrew Loku in the hallway of his apartment building, killing him on the spot. His death occurred almost a year after Eric Garner’s in New York. Garner suffocated to death after being put in a chokehold by the police.

Like what you see? Consider a free or paid subscription. 100 percent human-made content guaranteed :) Over a dozen years ago, Nathan Englander published a short story in The New Yorker called, What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank. The story follows two couples, one Orthodox, one secular, who get high and drunk and end up talking about who would save them should a second Holocaust hit. This Substack is reader-supported.

I’m so grateful you’re here. Please consider a free or paid subscription. If it’s beyond your budget, message me for a comp. I’m reading the graphic novel adaptation of The Children’s Crusade to my 14-year old, L, at night because that’s what you do when war stories make up your own childhood — you carry on the tradition.