Tag Archives: granddaughters and grandfathers

August 10, 2025 · 7:16 am

In His Hands

by Barbara Krasner (Somerset, NJ)

My grandfather once held my grandmother’s hands in his. I never knew her. He held the keys of his wooden register in his hands. Canned goods. Fresh produce. Milk bottles for the 1915 free milk campaign as announced in the Newark Evening Star. He held my infant father in his hands, an American-born baby of a Litvak and a Galitzianer. He held his aging mother’s hands and when I was born, and my mother asked him for a name, he gave me the name of his mother, Bryna, and his eldest sister. Doba, who died in the 1918 flu pandemic. He once held shoelaces that he dipped in leather in his first job at a Newark tannery. He once held pencils and rulers in his work as a joiner in Russia. He once held the parcels of his Russian life as he steamed across the Atlantic at age 19 on the SS Rotterdam in 1899 to join his brother in Newark. He held the fringes of his tallis and the leather straps of his phylacteries that I now keep in a special treasures drawer. My grandfather once held the remote to his Amana television to watch The Lawrence Welk Show and used it to change the channel to The Wonderful World of Disney for me. He once held the lever to vote for Al Smith for American president after he became a US citizen. He once held the keys to a corner lot house after decades of living behind the general store he and my grandmother owned and operated. As he aged, he held the iron-wrought banister of the outdoor stairs to my father’s car. He held my father’s hands for support. He held onto life itself to the age of 93.

But with all that my grandfather held, I don’t think he ever once held me.

Barbara Krasner holds an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts and a PhD in Holocaust & Genocide Studies (HGS) from Gratz College, where she teaches in the HGS graduate programs. The author of two poetry chapbooks and three novels in verse, her work has appeared in Jewish Literary Journal, Tiferet, Minyan, Jewishfiction.net, Michigan Quarterly Review, and elsewhere. She serves as Director, Mercer County (NJ) Holocaust, Genocide & Human Rights Education Center.

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June 23, 2025 · 7:30 am

My grandfather, Bubushi 

By Sophia Nourafshan (Los Angeles, California) 

My grandfather, Bubushi, is a man who wears his Jewish identity with pride, refusing to conceal it, regardless of the circumstances. My grandfather shared a painful incident he experienced, and the impact of his words has stayed with me ever since. It was a typical Saturday afternoon when he walked out of the synagogue, his blue kippah on, tzitzit hanging visibly, a siddur in one hand, and some chicken and rice from Shul in the other. As he walked toward the crosswalk, he saw a man sitting on the cold ground, shivering in ragged clothes, with a sign asking for money.

My grandfather, always looking for a chance to do a mitzvah, went over and slowly began placing the meal beside him. That’s when the man grabbed his wrist, looked him in the eye, and yelled, “You filthy Jew,” before punching him. I vividly remember the deep wave of upset that hit me when Bubushi initially told me about this. All I could think was, how could anyone treat him that way, simply because he is Jewish? But the next part of the story completely changed how I saw the situation.

Instead of reacting in anger or fear, I learned that my grandfather calmly placed the food beside the man, looked at him, and said softly, “Shabbat Shalom, and have a great rest of your day.” I could hardly believe it. I was told that he did not flinch. He did not feel the need to fight back nor defend himself. It struck me that what he did in order to perform a mitzvah was more powerful than any retaliation could ever be.

Hearing this story made me rethink how I approach life. I was always proud of my faith, but after hearing what my grandfather had done, I felt a deep connection to his act of kindness, one rooted in resilience. I now wear my Star of David every day, not just as a symbol, but as a reminder that I should not let fear or prejudice silence who I am. Walking with my grandfather to Shul every Saturday has become more meaningful as each step with him feels like a quiet statement of who we are and where we stand.

Bubushi has shown me that real strength comes from humility and kindness in a world that can sometimes be hostile. His example has shaped how I see myself, my faith, and the importance of standing tall, even when the world tries to knock you down. I have learned from him that dignity does not come from how others treat you but from how you choose to respond. Like him, I hope to embrace faith and resilience as the core of my identity, a testament to the strength that comes from knowing who I am and standing by it, no matter what. 

Sophia Nourfshan is a current senior at Milken Community High School. She writes: “I am fortunate to have two older brothers and wonderful parents who inspire me and set an example for me every day. From a young age, my parents instilled in me the importance of Judaism and the values that define us. This story is essential for me to share, as it reflects who I am and resonates with the challenges we are facing in today’s world. Judaism is a core part of my identity, and despite the antisemitism we encounter, I will continue to live proudly and authentically as a Jew. I hope my story can inspire others to stand up for their faith and respond courageously in the face of adversity.” 

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