By Gerald Eskenazi
The Brooklyn Dodgers and Cal Abrams had the pennant locked up along with the loyalty of millions of Jews. In a flash, they blew their lead and turned a kid’s world upside down.
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By Gerald Eskenazi
It certainly wasn’t your average Friday night Sabbath.
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By Gerald Eskenazi
It used to be so simple: On Sunday mornings I’d go upstairs to my grandma’s part of the house, snuggle in bed with her and sing “You Are My Sunshine.” How she kvelled.
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By Gerald Eskenazi
In corners of the world I never expected my Jewishness to surface, my ancient heritage finds me. Or is it the other way around?
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By Gerald Eskenazi
I was sailing along the Nile on a fancy cruise, breakfast-time. I looked in the breadbasket, and there I saw them: bagels! On the Nile!? I knew, just knew, they couldn’t be good. And they weren’t. They were white bread made round.
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