Last month, in the heart of Boro Park, a frightening incident took place. According to Hamodia (June 29 issue), a member of the Jewish community lured three boys into a shul, in separate incidents, by asking them to help him carry a box. Apparently, two of the boys, within an hour of each other, were victims of despicable behavior. The third was able to escape by convincing the man that his father was waiting outside, and that he would get nervous if he did not come out soon. He was let go, unharmed. The parents contacted the shul and the

Chana was a thirty-something professional — we sat in the same office, and had worked side-by-side for about a year. She was always very nice, intelligent and charming, but we were never close since she lived in another community and we didn’t travel in the same circles. I guess we were just so busy with our own lives, and since our lives were so different, they never coincided. While we really enjoyed working together; talking about this and that, we just never had all that much in common.

I’d always thought she was a happy person. She had a fulfilling job

I am one of those people who hates to say no, so it was quite a challenge for me to share with my friends the thrilling news that I had finally accrued enough credit card points to visit my son and his family who had recently made aliya. As every seasoned Israel traveler knows, it is par for the course to be asked to transport “a little something” to a son, daughter, mother, father, or fourth cousin twice removed, who lives in the Holy Land – anything from a few pills to a guitar. I have to admit that it

I remember taking great pride, even as a young girl, in thinking creatively and being a nonconformist. And now that I’m “grown up,” well, how many Torah-observant women do you know who are passionate about writing, avid racquetball players, lifelong collectors of seashells and gemstones, and also enjoy composing music, painting abstracts, and a good game of football? Not many, perhaps, but I can assure you that there are other out-of-the-box, eclectic individuals like myself in our greater Torah community, whose interests and professions are not your humdrum standard. I had the pleasure of speaking to a few of them.

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Fame is a funny thing. In today’s America, it is coveted and admired, even if it comes from nothing more than hitting a ball with a stick called a bat. Some people even seem to be famous only for being famous! Yet fame – or, more appropriately, renown and recognition – is also a predictable result of doing something of value to others. Rabbanim, speakers, teachers, and those who devote time and effort to community work – though they shy away from publicity – tend to be well known and liked in the community. It is just as Pirchei Avos

Do you remember the thrill of getting behind the wheel for the first time as an independent driver with a brand-new license tucked in your pocket or purse? Do you recall volunteering to do errands for your parents, just so you could drive the family car? Did you, like me, pick up a friend – or two or three – and zip carefree to the beach or out for an ice cream?

  Back in the “good old days,” as soon as you thought you were ready to take the test, you just went in and took it. Some people,