Here is a snapshot of my family’s coming to America… one immigrant family making its way through the years. My family lived big. Our triumphs as well as our challenges. With little subtlety, my family said what they meant without editing. This could be exciting or a bit shocking.
I still look up to my dad. He’s been gone fourteen years. A fascinating man, he had some wonderful rare attributes, a good share of challenges, and as far as the title goes, piercing blue eyes. He loved big and had a hard time showing it. Words, hugs and easy companionship, those weren’t his way. Read More
WHAT ARE YOUR STORIES? I was going to wait until the influx of your stories came spontaneously flooding in. Then, the plan was to set up a special link just for your tales. The idea that we are bigger and better when we come together is ancient. Building community. Not just Vivi and each reader. Read More
My father’s mother, Rifka, was a young woman living in Poland in the early 1900s. Pogroms against the Jewish people were common in her little community in Galicia. These recurring outbreaks of violence created desperate conditions and the Jewish people sought to escape. Little did they know it was to get much worse in Galicia, not better, in Read More
I don’t know anybody who could beat my mom’s energy and humor. This lady was “the bomb” in today’s positive vernacular. She was up for adventure at the drop of a hat..and had you crying with laughter at her jokes. Mom had a mean Yiddish and pushed the boundaries with her zest