Tag Archives: ancestors

Minnie Horowitz

by Anne Myles (Greensboro, NC)

At the Seder at my aunt’s house in New Jersey,

as my uncle-by-marriage blessed the matzo,

intoning hamotzi lechem min haaretz,

my mother and her four sisters and brothers 

would chime in not amen but Minnie Horowitz!

Cousin Dan told me that story on the phone—

at sixty I’ve learned the blessing, get the joke.

They’re all gone now, but alive again in this—

that fierce irreverence and joy in their own wit.

Once I was there too, gripping the Haggadah, 

my insides roiling with obscure hungers,

salty greens and charoset on my tongue.

What was I to make of it, that tale of plagues

and miracles, my inscrutable inheritance,

crumbled between jibes and family backtalk?

No one thought it worthwhile to explain.

How much did they grasp of it themselves,

children of Ray, the crown rabbi’s daughter,

transported from Kotelnich to Jersey City,

who when my mother’s friend showed up at dinner

hissed in the kitchen, Tell her it’s veal!

Oh America, what a marvel you seemed then—

land of freedom from law and memory both,

where we gloried in our big brains and mouths,

fanning history away like cooking smoke.

Oh Epsteins, I am formed of you, but wander

lonesome through states you never dreamt of

in a changed century. Oh Minnie, I imagine 

you dancing toward me like some long-lost ancestor

in your best dress, your pale knees plump as loaves,

your candles burning, and your small hands raised,

circling the light before covering your eyes.

Anne Myles is the author of Late Epistle, winner of Sappho’s Prize in Poetry (Headmistress Press, 2023), and What Woman That Was: Poems for Mary Dyer (Final Thursday Press, 2022) Her poems have appeared in numerous journals and been nominated for multiple Pushcarts. Anne is Professor Emeritus of English at the University of Northern Iowa and holds a PhD from the University of Chicago and an MFA from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. She now lives in Greensboro, where she co-hosts the new reading series Poetry on Tap and is belatedly exploring the religious dimensions of her Jewish identity at Temple Emanuel. If you’d like to learn more about Anne, visit her website: annemyles.com

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Filed under American Jewry, Family history, Jewish, Jewish identity, Jewish writing, Judaism, Passover, poetry

Ancestors

by Natalie Zellat Dyen (Huntington Valley, PA)

Last year I searched for my grandfather’s grave at Har Jehuda Cemetery.

Nathan Weisbord. 

Section C25, row 2, location 47.

But couldn’t find him. 

Once, I was able to run my hand over Hebrew letters incised into the stone.

Once I was able trace the date of his death from the Spanish flu: October 1918. 

But now he is twice buried.

This time in a jungle of tangled weeds and branches. 

Buried by neglect that afflicts old Jewish cemeteries like this one.

Cemeteries passed down to owners unwilling or unable to maintain what was entrusted to them. 

We are the caretakers of our ancestors.

Responsible for remembering them and reciting their names. 

It’s not easy for many of us to find our roots. 

Nature unchecked reclaims its own.

Paths to our history are blocked by twisted roots.

And burned records.

And toppled gravestones.

And the rubble of cemeteries in the old country.

The last time I visited Har Jehuda I was a volunteer. 

One of many warriors, armed with rakes, hedge trimmers, and bare hands.

Working to clear the paths, section by section. 

We have not yet reached my grandfather’s grave.

But we are persistent.

We Jews. 

That’s how we survive.

I had hoped to accomplish much as a volunteer. 

Bus alas, my ability to twist and bend

Had gone the way of my youth.

So I sat down and continued weeding and trimming on the ground. 

But when it was time to leave, I found myself stuck.

Lacking the strength to get back on my feet. 

So I wrapped my arms around the nearest gravestone.

A monument to man named Joseph Feingold

Who died in 1948. 

And he helped to lift me to my feet. 

As Jews, we are responsible for each other in life and in death. 

And as I honor my ancestors, they will continue to lift me.

Natalie Zellat Dyen began writing humor pieces and essays for newspapers while working as a technical writer. Since turning to fiction, her work has appeared in a number of publications including, Philadelphia Stories, The MacGuffin, the Schuylkill Valley Journal, Willow Review, Alternative Truths: Endgame, Jewish Writing Project, Damselfly, CERASUS Magazine, Every Day Fiction, and Neshaminy: The Bucks County Historical and Literary Journal. Her short story collection, Finding Her Voice, was published in 2019. Her debut novel, Locked in Silence, a work of historical fiction, will be released on February 1, 2024.

To learn more about Natalie and her work, visit her website: www.nataliewrites.com

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Filed under American Jewry, Family history, Jewish, Jewish identity, Jewish writing, Judaism, poetry