For three days, I thought I was Jewish. Until my mom burst my bubble. Oy, vey. When my folks arrived on Saturday, we were doing the usual sitting-outside-and-catching-up thing. That’s when my mom dropped a bombshell. “I think we might have some Jewish ancestry,” she said. That was news to me, though not a total … Continue reading I Was Jewish for 72 Hours
Maybe Lisel isn’t a distant cousin, but I still love schnitzel.
All my life, I've been told my ancestry was fairly straightforward: Russian on my mom's side, Czechoslovakian on my dad's. No matter which way I sliced it, I was descended from poor peasant folk in Eastern Europe. Nothing glamorous, just a bunch of sheep and goat herders struggling to make a living off the land … Continue reading Maybe Lisel isn’t a distant cousin, but I still love schnitzel.