Last February, Malka read a book her mother bought, called Shidduch Secrets. One chapter was about a girl who, turned off by a shadchan’s harsh words, decided to focus on doing chesed and started visiting a nursing home. Malka was inspired by this true story, in which the girl ended up marrying the grandson of a nursing home resident. She pushed herself to make the three-mile roundtrip walk, alone, to Tudor Heights Senior Living, one Shabbos shortly after Pesach, since no friend was available to go with her.

Who doesn’t tremble on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, when the chazan chants the somber and fearsome Unesanu Tokef? This year, as we recall the unprecedented number of water tragedies that have occurred this summer, we will surely shudder even more when he comes to the part, “Mi vamayim – Who shall perish by water.”

The swimming season had barely gotten underway, in June, when three children drowned in Israel, leaving them in serious and critical condition; later that month, a man in his 50s fatally drowned in a pool in Tzefas. Closer to home, we are still traumatized by the drowning of Rabbi Reuven Bauman, z”l, who heroically jumped into the ocean to save a student and whose body was found off the coast of North Carolina by a boat of Misaskim of Maryland volunteers from Baltimore.

If your travels to Israel between the 1970s and the early 2000s included a visit to the Kotel, chances are you saw – or at least heard of – the legendary Rabbi Meir Schuster, z”l. He was the tall, lanky, black-hatted bearded fellow in the dark suit, who dedicated himself to frequenting the Kotel, day in and day out, no matter what. A man on a mission, he loved his fellow Jews so much that he wanted to share his enthusiasm for Judaism with them, out of pure compassion. Indeed, he received no monetary compensation for his work.

Arizonan Robin Meyerson jokes that her husband Charles saves bodies while she tries to save souls. He is an electrical engineer who creates pacemakers and other lifesaving medical products. She, the mother of their five children (and a grandmother), is a former corporate marketing whiz and, most recently, a motivational speaker, teacher, and author, who has made raising awareness about Jewish burial her life’s mission. How did she make that drastic leap? Robin shared her inspirational story of Divine Providence when she came to town to be a featured speaker for Project Inspire.

I read between the lines of Becky’s seemingly innocent WhatsApp chat sent shortly after I arrived at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Stamford, Connecticut. It was the first time my fairly recently widowed former grad school roommate was attending the annual Samchainu and Nagilla international Shabbaton for almanos (widows). Knowing her hesitancy (I twisted her arm to attend!), I knew that, “U here yet? I’m in room 4058. You?” was a cry for help.

My suspicion was confirmed when I picked Becky up from her room to go downstairs for the buffet lunch. She confided that she was so overwhelmed by the sadness of seeing so many almanos together that all she wanted to do was stay in her room and read all Shabbos. I took my longtime friend under my wing and was thrilled when she admitted, before parting ways on Sunday, that she was uplifted by the experience and happy she came.

So, what do Baltimoreans Chavi Barenbaum, Esky Cook, Malky Goldstein, Rebbetzin Fredda Hopfer, Rebbetzin Judy Neuberger, and Chaya Zwick have in common?

Why, Rebbetzin Chana Wesel, of course!

The veteran teacher par excellence taught them all at the Bais Yaakov in Williamsburg, in Brooklyn, New York. The adage, “Teachers live forever in the hearts they touch,” is certainly true of Rebbetzin Wesel. And after having the pleasure of meeting and interviewing her, I understand how this beloved and inspirational protégé of Rebbetzin Vichna Kaplan – the founder of the first Bais Yaakov high school and teachers seminary in America – captured the minds and hearts of her students. Indeed, many of her former students – who are scattered around the world – still keep in touch with her over a half-century later.

Here is her story and theirs:

A Close Escape

Rebbetzin Wesel did not start life in America. Born in Vienna, she was only seven years old when her family left. But she clearly remembers the events that foreshadowed their escape.

“It was March, 1938, on Shabbos Parshas Zachor, when Hitler, y”s, marched into Vienna and annexed Austria to Germany,” recalls Rebbetzin Wesel. “We knew then that we had to get out; we were fortunate that we made it out.”

Rebbetzin Wesel explains that the word, “Jude” was painted on all the Jewish-owned stores, and signs were affixed to benches that said Jews were not allowed to sit there. Her mother was afraid for them to use their Jewish names, and her eight-year-old brother was only allowed to wear a cap instead of a yarmulke.