Navigating the shidduch system was a cinch when the Baby Boomers dated. That’s because there was no system – and yet, singles did not suffer from the shidduch “crisis” referred to today. In addition to meeting at shul, school, and singles events, they met at Shabbos tables, Catskill hotels, libraries, and even Tashlich. Relatives, friends, classmates, students, workmates, and neighbors often proposed (no pun intended) ideas. Oh, and suggestions were also made by shadchanim.

There was no such thing as today’s mandatory shidduch profile (more commonly called by the misnomer “resume”), and guys (or their mothers) did not insist on seeing the girl’s photo prior to going out. An extensive preliminary FBI (Frum Bureau of Investigation) check of references did not exist. After hearing some details, you basically trusted the person who broached the idea and then relied on your own judgment.

Back in 1979, when I moved to Baltimore, Jack’s Grocery was the “in” place to shop. It was a cozy, quaint, heimishe mom-and-pop grocery store, where everything from the freshest produce and canned goods to appetizing and hot take-out food specialties, all within two aisles. The proprietors, Jack and Rose Boehm, a”h, were hardworking, ehrliche, goodhearted Holocaust survivors from Czechoslovakia who worked their way up in America, despite not knowing a word of English when they arrived.

My sister, Debbie Burnstein, a”h, passed away in December, at the age of 66. Debbie was developmentally challenged and lived in a group home just about her entire life. She was raised in a generation when people didn’t talk about children who had such challenges. They were “put in the closet,” so to speak. But my parents were not like that. Unfortunately, their family and friends did have that mindset, so my parents had it hard. Even our relatives, as wonderful as they were, never called and asked, “How’s Debbie?” or “Where are you putting her?” And my mother was too uncomfortable to tell them that they had to put her in a non-Jewish place.

Chaya Milevsky was born in the Jewish ghetto of Shanghai and moved to Cleveland as a baby, before life took her to Mexico, Israel, Toronto, and ultimately Baltimore. Her husband, Rabbi Dr. Uziel Milevsky, zt”l, a musmach of Ner Israel yeshiva, was the former Chief Rabbi of Mexico and founder/lecturer at Ohr Somayach Toronto. Chaya shared her incredible life story with me.

 My article in the last issue of the Where What When, about a young woman’s experience being hospitalized with COVID, caused some consternation among readers. As a follow-up, and to provide a candid, unrestrained glimpse into hospital life these days, I asked a hospital-employed nurse for an anonymous first-person account of what it is like to take care of a patient load that includes COVID patients.

I felt like I came late to the party. I was exposed to COVID so many times before I was finally diagnosed with it the week of October 11^th. My mom had it and was hospitalized for two weeks. Some of my siblings had it; they waited it out at home and were okay. I wasn’t admitted to the hospital until October 19^th, and my experience was – shall we say, interesting. I learned a lot and am still processing what happened.

I really don’t know where I picked up the virus. I had traveled to the Midwest to spend Yom Tov with my parents, and shortly after I returned to Baltimore, I attended a friend’s wedding – masked, of course. I work in a health care facility, and we had some COVID cases, so it is kind of crazy that it took so long for me to get it. In the building where I live with my roommates, there were people who had Corona, but we didn’t catch it. We were being really careful.