?Now, three years after a new plague first appeared, we are learning that Covid is most likely a man-made problem that was created in the (partially) U.S.-funded Wuhan Lab in China. Covid spawned an industry of “experts” touting various precautions, treatments, suggested remedies, and vaccines. As time goes on, we are realizing that certain of these precautions, treatments, and remedies are ineffective, and in some cases dangerous – and that certain treatments and remedies that might have been effective were blacklisted. We are also asking ourselves who really is an expert?

Baltimore’s aging public schools are frequently in need of major renovation or rebuilding. When this occurs, the student body and faculty are usually moved to a separate facility for the duration of the construction work. The temporary facility is known as a “swing school.” In our community, the swing school is Northwestern High. Northwestern has been used as a swing school since it was closed as a public high school in 2017. Forest Park High School used Northwestern as a swing school in that year. Northwestern is currently being used as a swing school for Cross Country Elementary/Middle School, which is being rebuilt as a 21^st Century School.

by Shani, Dena, and Daniella

We break from our Pesach cleaning and menu planning to shed light on a sensitive topic that is probably pertinent to you or to someone at your Seder table. Four is a repeating theme of Pesach – the Ma Nishtana with the four questions, the Four Sons, and the arba kosos, the four cups of wine, to name a few. While anyone can sing the Ma Nishtana, and a lot of us can identify with at least one of the four sons, not everyone will be drinking four cups of wine this Pesach. We discuss (you guessed it) four reasons why some will not be filling their cups with wine on Seder night – and why we should show sensitivity toward them.

Aharon Levi and Meira Levi

We are back again, discussing general studies in our schools, but this time we are jumping into the deep end. Before we start, a little background information: I am in my second year of teaching, and my father has been teaching in yeshivos for more than 20 years. Sometimes, I come home at the end of my day and talk shop with my father, and as it turns out, many of the questions and issues he has dealt with (and continues to deal with) are the very same ones I come home with.

I have my roots in Eretz Yisrael. My grandfather had come to Eretz Yisrael as a bachur already in the 1930s, as he felt that it was getting dangerous to stay in Europe. He eventually went to Haifa, with the encouragement of the Chazon Ish, zt”l, settling in the then completely irreligious neighborhood of Neve Sha’anan. He was one of the only chareidim who were raising their family in the area. He dreamed of building a yeshiva there that would be a positive influence on the whole area, and he and his sons were eventually instrumental in the founding and upkeep of the prestigious Yeshivas Nachlas HaLeviim in Neve Sha’anan. Despite financial difficulties and ruchniyus challenges, my grandparents were moser nefesh (sacrificed) for yishuv (the settling of) Eretz Yisrael and for spreading the light of Torah.

When I was growing up on Shirley Avenue, off the 3900 block of Park Heights, here in Baltimore, I loved summer vacation when, after supper, my friends and I had plenty of time to jump rope and play hide-and-go-seek even without daylight saving time. As the sun was setting, we would sit at the bottom of the high steps leading up to our row houses and play a game called Time.

As a child, I didn’t realize that time really isn’t a game to be tampered with. It’s a precious gift from Hashem to use wisely, enjoying the beautiful world and the mitzvahs He gave us. Now the United States Congress wants to pass a bill making daylight saving time year-round. It’s only an extra hour, but in the winter, it would be disastrous for the Jewish community.

I’ve gotten out of the habit of swimming. I was in the pool for the first time in many months, but Baruch Hashem, once I was in, it felt like I never left. Well, almost. Before my long hiatus from the pool, I could swim 12 laps in 30 minutes without an issue. Yesterday, I was wiped out after pushing myself to finish 10. But I’m determined to get back into the groove again. It’s been too long, and I’ve run out of excuses.

I was so proud of myself after I came out of the pool, and it felt good to be exhausted when I went to bed last night. Swimming does that to me, but it would be better if I reminded myself of that fact more often, to help me stay on track.

In the summer of 2019, my wife and I visited the Museum of Jewish Art and History in Paris and had the opportunity to see a remarkable exhibition about Adolfo Kaminsky, a man credited with saving the lives of at least 10,000 Jews in France during World War II. 

The Early Years

Adolfo Kaminsky’s parents were Russian Jews who met and married in Paris.  His mother had fled to Paris from the pogroms in Russia, and his father, a journalist for a Jewish Marxist newspaper in Russia, was forced to leave. Because of his father’s alleged ties to the Jewish Labor Bund, Adolfo’s parents were expelled from France and spent time in Turkey and in Buenos Aires, Argentina, where Adolfo was born in 1925. They later returned to France, eventually settling in the town of Vire, in Normandy, in 1932.

The family was poor, and young Adolfo soon found work as a clothes dyer and dry cleaner, where he learned the magic of colors and how to use various chemicals. Kaminsky also worked on a dairy farm, where he performed chemical tests to verify milk quality and discovered that lactic acid could be used to remove supposedly indelible black ink from paper. These skills would serve him well in his work for the French Resistance during World War II.

Dear Dr. Kidorf,

I started cleaning for Pesach this week and took the opportunity to clean my eighth-grade son’s room while he was in school. I was going to surprise him with a clean and orderly room. It occurred to me that maybe I shouldn’t go into his drawers, but I had to put things away, and I figured he is still young, so he probably wouldn’t object. Anyway, I found some things that are concerning. I wasn’t sure what they were, but my friend confirmed that the small colorful tubes and other paraphernalia are used for vaping. I am quite upset. I realize that young teens experiment with smoking, but I didn’t think my son would do it. Although he is not the most popular kid in the class, he has friends, and he is a fairly good student. He was never a troublesome kid and basically gets along at home and in school. I have two questions: Is this dangerous for a child his age? More importantly, what is the right approach now that I have made this discovery? Should I just ignore it and pretend I didn’t see, or should I confront him. If so, how?

Forty minutes into cleaning my room– dresser open and bare, clothing haphazardly piled onto the floor – and I needed a coffee break.

The kitchen was blessedly quiet and, blessedly, unpesachdik. I sat down to enjoy my drink, two sugars and a big splash of whole milk, when Sim busted in.

I guess it wasn’t going to be the peaceful break I thought it would be.

She sauntered over to me, silver beaded earrings jangling.”Coffee?” she asked.