The rhythmic thudding of leather meeting the heavy bag, coupled with the sharp “she, she” exhaling of breath, has an intoxicating sound all its own. Conversational snippets, background noise, all fade away as intensity increases. Jab, jab, cross,…
When I was a toddler, even before my mother started curling my little payess around her finger and brushing it with a bit of sugar-water, she taught me the English alphabet (after I had mastered the Alef Beis, of course). By the time I was enrolled in pre-school I knew that c-a-t spells cat....
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The house smells like a Friday afternoon. Ajax, some unidentified scent, and delicious Shabbos food. The washing-machine spins noisily, the little kids fight over a coloring book and the older kids fight over which of the younger ones…
Green Tuesday
Chaim Mayer’s mother usually calls in on Thursdays to remind him to pick up the lokshen kugel for Shabbos, or of a family member’s shulem zucher, which s’volt gepast that he attend.
The Departed
A report on the Footsteps organization and the lives of those who leave the ultra-Orthodox world. Article by Orli Santo.
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