THE WALLS OF THE GHETTO

The walls of the ghetto encircled you.

The walls of the ghetto enclosed you.

The walls of the ghetto framed you.

Framed your life and the lives of your loved ones.

You, with your tattered yellow star marking you

Jew. Schweinhund. Part of a damned nation.

It is fear that fed you when the cupboards were bare.

It is bravery that sustained you when that fear was spent.

You fought to the bitter end --

The rat-tat-tat of machine gun artillery

echoing off the barren walls of that wasteland.

The raining of bombs all around you.

The smell of death hovering... Always hovering.

With hands up in the air, with this gesture of surrender,

of final supplication

You the boy, already a man, left your legacy.

And we remember. We always remember...

Something to Ponder

Has it ever occurred to any of you how many times you've gone to weddings, bar mitzvahs, bat mitzvahs, engagement parties, retirement parties, staff parties, etc, have posed for pics or have had candid pics taken of you when you weren't aware of a photographer around...or have sat at a table with people at any of these types of affairs and have had a microphone shoved in your hand and a video camera with the spotlight on you. You're supposed to give a congratulatory message to the new happy couple or to the shining boy of thirteen or the sparkling girl of twelve.

Have you ever thought about all these pics and footage taken of you....that you've never ever seen?

No doubt you've already reached your total 15 minutes of fame in these many simcha videos...but never actually got to see them.

No doubt your face fills up pages in photo albums on coffee tables and on bookshelves...but you never actually got to see them.

I think the next time I go to a simcha and the videographer goes around to each person at the table to say a few words, I'll put up my hand and say really loudly, "Sorry, I'm on strike."

And when asked to pose for a group shot, I'll put up my hand and say really loudly, "Can't do it. I need to sign a model release...do you have one handy?" (of course they won't)

And when it's the end of the evening, and time to say goodbye and mazel tov to the hosts, and time to hand over the envelope with the "gift" (check), I'll put up my hand instead and say really loudly,"I can't give this to you unless you promise to invite me over to see the pics/video once they're ready..."

Prayer Box (as opposed to Prayer Book)

'The JewBerry': Praying every day on the PDA

06/11/2008
ASSOCIATED PRESS NEW YORK

Thousands of observant Jews around the world are praying three times a day - using their PDA.

A software program for BlackBerries combines Hebrew prayers and technology, the brainchild of two entrepreneurs who attended New York's Yeshiva University. They dubbed it "the JewBerry" - a $30 program that provides texts of daily prayers instead of the traditional, printed book. The program is not linked to Research in Motion Ltd., maker of the BlackBerry.

"Throughout the day, Jews gather in office-building stairwells and conference rooms to pray, and while sometimes you might not remember your prayer book, no one goes anywhere without their BlackBerry," says co-creator Jonathan Bennett of Cedarhurst, Long Island. Among JewBerry users is the president of Yeshiva University, Richard Joel. "I love it, because now I can not only look how the market is doing, but I can also say my evening prayers," he says, adding that "at the heart of what Yeshiva is about is the notion that it's not our technology that informs civilization; it's our values."

http://www.jewberry.com

Lost & Found

I'm a mom who likes to stay on top of things if I can, even to the point of knowing what my kids wear to school. But it is obvious that not all parents are like me.

On Friday, when I came to pick up the kids, my youngest ran to the car without his jacket; he'd forgotten it in the schoolyard and went to retrieve it...but it wasn't there where he'd left it with his knapsack and lunchbox. He checked the lost and found, as well as his classroom, but it wasn't there.

There was, however, a very similar jacket, just a shade darker, lying there on the cold concrete near to where my son had left his jacket. Believing that there had been a switchoff done in error by a kid, I took that jacket, assuming and hoping that my son's jacket would appear in the school's lost and found on Monday and I'd leave this jacket in its place.

I got home and looked closer at the jacket; on first glance, it really looked the same as my son's, but a shade darker, a different store label affixed to it and a couple sizes smaller than my son's. And there was no name.

My son's jacket does have his name and phone number, so it's easily identifiable.

If in fact, this was a case of mistaken jacket identity, I couldn't understand that a parent wouldn't notice the difference in jackets or spot our family name in our jacket.

So throughout the weekend, I hoped I was correct and that Noam's jacket would show up in the lost and found on Monday or Tuesday.

It didn't...but I did the right thing and left the other jacket in the lost and found.

But you wouldn't believe the items that appear in those big baskets, just waiting to be claimed by their rightful owners.

There are countless school uniform jackets, and designer jackets, hats and gloves, and lunchboxes.

Please tell me how a child, however old or young, can lose a lunchbox and not realize it or not have a parent realize it or think, "Perhaps my son/daughter left it at school. I'd better check the lost and found." Does a child not think that they need a lunchbox for the next day? And if the lunchbox is labeled, as I saw on several of them, it is so much easier to claim.

Okay, so the school jackets all look the same, but many are labeled. Don't you think to even give a quick peek in the lost and found?

I recall losing a winter hat when I was in kindergarten. I looked in the school's lost and found many times without success. When I was in grade one, I checked it again, and what do you think I found? Yes, my hat. Better late than never...!

There are many wealthy families at the kids' school; perhaps they don't notice when an item goes missing or perhaps they don't care. And my guess is that many of the kids don't care enough either if they lose something 'cause they know it'll get replaced.

Each term, I believe, before Chanukah, Pesach and the end of school, the administration takes a day and displays all the lost and found articles for parents/kids to come and look at and claim whatever is theirs. All the items that go unclaimed are donated to charity.

Perhaps it's somewhat silly to think that a kid didn't bring a lunch to school for three months 'cause her lunchbox went missing; perhaps a child's fingers were numb over the month of February because his gloves went missing when the weather was cold. But it's sillier to think that people don't even consider checking the lost and found until it's too late.

I'm still hoping my son's jacket will turn up at school. In the meantime I told him to keep an eye on the kids in the schoolyard and see if he spots anyone wearing what looks like his jacket. If he spots it, he is not to accuse anyone, "That's MY jacket," but to say rationally that he thinks it's his jacket and let him check it for his name.

I'm also hoping that by the first "clean sweep of the year" of the lost and found, most of the items will have already been rightfully claimed by students, nannies, and parents.

Missing Max

I've mentioned our shih-poo countless times since we got him over 2 1/2 years ago.

Max is a beautiful, smart and most lovable animal, yet he can also be annoying...at least to me. You see, Max thinks I'm his mom and doesn't want to let me out of his sight much of the time. If I'm at the computer, Max might lay on the floor beside me. Even if he's asleep, the minute I get up to go downstairs, Max is up and right there alongside me.

If I'm in the bathroom with the door closed, the dog doesn't respect my privacy and comes in unannounced. And if he doesn't come in, he's waiting right there outside the bathroom for when I emerge.

The kids know Max primarily loves me. My husband knows Max primarily loves me. I know Max primarily loves me, but I don't want to be the only one he shares his love with.

I'll tell you one thing, though. Whenever I come home from somewhere and open the door, Max is sitting right there, excited to greet me, excited to see his mom. The kids could be somewhere in the house within earshot of the front door and MAYBE they'll call out, "Hi, Mom...Hi Eema," if I'm lucky. But Max is there all the time to say hello.

But today he's not here. I dropped him off at the groomer this a.m. and will pick him up later. And the truth is that since I've come home, I've felt a bit lost without my canine's presence in the house. It's a gorgeous, mild day in Toronto, and I came home from grocery shopping, thinking "I should take Max for a walk" but then remembering he's not home today. And when he wasn't at the door to greet me, I felt a bit hollow and a little lost in my own home.

Funny how we attach ourselves to pets and how they attach themselves to us. Max must feel just as I do today when I leave the house in the a.m. and not return for hours sometimes, or when he sees us go out as a family and wants to be included, but we don't take him along.

I'm looking forward to seeing him in an hour or so, and I think I'll whisper in his ear that I missed him today, and then I'll compliment him on his clean, shorn appearance. I think he'll like that...and then he'll no doubt follow me closely, hoping for more compliments to come his way!

A La Jerry Seinfeld

I used to write comedy bits...just in case I'd ever be brave enough to get up on stage on amateur night at a Toronto comedy club; after all, Jim Carrey, Howie Mandel and Mike Meyers all started in downtown Toronto.

So last night, I thought of this bit that I could just imagine Jerry Seinfeld using in one of his closing/opening monologues of his former TV show. I wanted to shower without getting my hair wet and pulled out a shower cap from the bathroom drawer. No doubt the shower cap was from one of my many -- NOT! -- vacations, so it was a standard issue cap found in hotel bathrooms.

I put it on my head and tried to tuck my hair in; when I got it in on one side, the hair on the other side popped out. When I tried to tuck in the hair at the nape of my neck, the hair on the front of my head popped out of the cap.

By no measure is this shower cap designed for adults with typical-sized heads; it is built for mini people with mini heads.

And as I stood there and struggled with this tiny bit of elasticized plastic, I grinned...'cause I could just picture Jerry Seinfeld talking about this bit of "nothing".

Amy Winehouse's "Rehab" in Yiddish

Click on this link for the Yiddish version of "Rehab".

Good Shabbos...and don't drink too much!

http://www.revver.com/video/857600/amy-winehouses-rehab-in-yiddish/

And the Moral of the Story Is....

...CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR CHICKENS!!

or even better: The moral of the story is "A bird in the hand is worth...$10,000 in fines!"


Monsey Kaparos Organizer Face $10,000 in Fines
October 11, 2008

The Journal News reports: Organizers of a religious ceremony involving chickens face up to $10,000 in fines for failing to properly clean up after the ritual, the Rockland County Health Department said today.

The group running the kapparot ceremony was cited for two violations of the Rockland sanitary code each of the five days that thousands of chickens were kept on the grounds of the former Monsey Jewish Center, said Thomas Micelli, director of environmental health for the Health Department.

Inspectors found there was a large amount of offensive material - including chicken feces, feathers and blood - on the site each of the five days, resulting in five the violations, Micelli said. Five additional violations were issued to the group for creating a public health nuisance.

The county got a court order Wednesday - the last day the ritual was performed - ordering the organizer and the property owner to stop the ceremony.

Chickens were still on the property yesterday, but had been removed by early this afternoon.

My Girls

I'm sending a shout-out to Terry & Betty...my girls.

These women have been in my life for decades -- Terry, since I was about five, when we met and blew soap bubbles together; Betty, since I was about 17, and switched to public high school to finish off there.

Both these women are my gal pals, my ladies, my "chiquitas", my email friends. No, we don't get to see each other tons, nor do we even talk on the phone tons, but we reach out and touch via the computer keyboard and messages several times a week...back and forth, back and forth.

With each of them having their own "peckelas" to deal with in life, and doing so with head held high, smiles and laughter, and a strong sense of self, these women are females to emulate, females to admire, females to just hang out with and shmooze with.

Thanks, both of you, for being my friend, for checking up on me when I don't surface too often, for making me laugh out loud in your own ways and for just being you. I wish you both a g'mar chatimah tovah and a very blessed New Year.

Ciao, bellas!

Lay It To Rest aka A Shanda

I was recently on a Jewish funeral chapel website, getting information about someone who'd passed away. I spotted a name I thought I recognized and decided to read the announcement and the guestbook entries affiliated with that person. Among the entries I found these: (note: I have removed all references to names, but that does not erase the actual impact of such words)


Entry : The news of the passing of my father XXXXXX just reached me yesterday Oct 1/08. XXX XXXXX was the father of XXXXXXXXand XXXXXXXX, and the Grandfather of XXX, XXXX, XXXX, XXXXand XXXX. The relationship between XXXX and his two children had been strained for past 39 years, we were kids when he married his second wife and over time he essentially failed to understand what being a father is. XXX was easily manoeuvred to disregard his kids, brothers, sisters, nephews and nieces and consequently was always finding ways to not have a relationship with us all. Nevertheless, it is shameful his kids and family were not notified of his passing, but I guess no one would expect any less. Approximately 6 months ago I heard XXXX was not well so I went to his home and asked security to buzz his suite. The women that answered told security she didn’t know who I was and not to allow me in????? Again, more disregard for his kids and for him as well. So, as I think about what our father gave us I will end by saying as adults my sister and I have learned how be stronger people better parents, better uncle and a better aunt. We commit to our family to never let anything or anyone get in the way of our relationship with our kids, our nephews and nieces. With all his shortcomings he is still our father and we always loved him.

Entry: In my time of grief and sorrow I am so revolted to read XXX's son's comments about his father and his one last attemp to defame his good name that I feel I must respond. XXX needed his kids when he was alive & fighting for his life with his terrible illness and not when he was dead. XXX always loved his kids and was so deeply hurt when he hefadn't heard from his son XXX for about 5 years. He contacted his daughter XXX when he became ill about 1-1/2 years ago and met with her. She showed no regard and was completely indifferent to his illness. When he asked to see his grandchildren she said "we'll see". He never heard from her again. Anyone who knew XXXX knows what a kind and loving person he was. Although it was erev Rosh Hashanah and people we busy preparing for the holiday, on such short notice they left everything to attend his funeral. The rabbi even remarked about the number of people who put themselves out and were there. This is the best respect Joe could have received. For a number of year XXXXand XXXX have shown no regard for their father and had no contact. They have always had a deep restment of me although for 25 years I tried to establish some kind of relationship for XXX's sake. I then just gave up. They should be ashamed of themselves for the hurt and suffering they caused their father and now I see they're trying to shift the blame This is something they'll have to live with for the rest of their lives. Everyone knows how I tried everything for XXX to extend his life and never left his side. I will always love and I miss him terribly. He was my rock. He always had a smile on his face and was very happy in our marriage. Even through his illness, he was not depressed. I saw to that. He was a wonderul loving husband.

Entry: We are very sorry to hear about uncle XXX. We wish we would have been notified about his passing, as the XXX family would have been in full attendance at the funeral. please accept our condolences.

Entry: This is disgraceful

Entry: Now this is one nice family!

Entry: Sorry about your loss; this page is for people to convey their condolences, not to air dirty laundry. let the man r.i.p.

Entry: My heartfelt condolences to the children and other family members who were not informed of their own father and uncles funeral. This is disgraceful!!! As a woman I would never allow any new husband to come in between my children and I. Unfortunately too many MEN allow the "new wife" to come between a loving family. Let him R.I.P. I'm sure there are 3 sides to this story.

Entry: I'm sure his kids would have left what they were doing on short notice if you would have told them their father died. You should be ashamed of yourself for airing dirty laundry on a public site.

Entry: This a disgrace to the deceased, your differences should be settled in a cage.

To say I was shocked by this public display is an understatement; apparently so were numerous others among the several memorial book entries.

I don't know this family; at this point I wouldn't even want to know this family.

But I can probably see how it started, why the son wrote what he did. He probably heard about his father's death and funeral and figured people would have been asking at the funeral why the man's own son and daughter didn't show up. He felt the need to let people know; this memorial book was the outlet for his anger and disappointment and to some extent, grief.

It is truly a shame how family units can disintegrate, how parents and/or children can be cast aside, can mean nothing anymore in a grand scheme of things.

May the man rest in peace, may his family know no more sorrow, and may they all discuss their grievances in the next world when they meet one another again, with Hashem as their judge.

Having read these entries, a saying from my school days came to mind: "Ezeh booshah v'cherpah." (Hebrew for "what an embarrassment and a disgrace")

I Wrote a Letter...

I have ALWAYS been known for my letter writing, my note writing.

Each one is personal, detailed, filled with the big picture and all the elements that make up that big picture.

When I spent half a year in Israel many years ago, I wrote lengthy, freeflowing letters to friends and family. They all commented on how wonderful it was to receive such letters, but not one person could write me a similar one in return.

Not that I wanted pages and pages of Toronto life, but I wanted morsels...and at least a couple of handfuls. Sometimes all I got back were a few crumbs. People were busy. Seemingly I wasn't...

Writing letters has always come easy to me. Doing so is easier than confronting a person at times; the invisible wall is up between you and the reader/recipient, but it is not a true barrier. In fact, that invisible wall allows for a freedom of sorts.

When people write thank-you notes for wedding gifts or engagement gifts, they write the same pat copy. I write warm notes intended solely for that particular reader, intended solely for what that person gave me. I've been told by many people that they love my notes, they keep my notes, they remember my notes...

When people lose someone in their life, I write notes of consolation; I dig into my heart for the words that will hopefully touch that person and console them in some small personal way.

I always try to make my words mean something to someone. They're not always supposed to be about me but rather, about the recipient.

It is my greatest pleasure to write letters; it is my greatest pleasure for me to touch someone with my words. It is my way of simply...sharing.

About ten days ago I checked out Facebook to see if a former classmate of mine was on it. I knew her birthday was around mine, and so I wanted to say hi and also wish her a happy birthday.

She was listed on Facebook so I dropped her a brief note, and she responded very happily, recalling that my birthday was also around hers and wishing me a happy birthday in return.

So I followed her note with quite a detailed lengthy one, responding to some of her comments and questions, and also simply catching her up on my life. It was no effort for me to do so; it just took a bit of time as I thought out my words.

I didn't expect a similar-length letter by any means, but I didn't expect this either, three sentences of a total six:

wow what a letter. i am intimidated to write you back. what a pleasure to read.

The fact that my letter intimidated her threw me; the compliment doesn't help pad that bit either.

I love making others happy with my words, but I never realized that I could intimidate someone with this...do I call it "my talent" or "my strength" or even "my signature"?

The New Year's a Comin'

Shanah Tovah from Pearliesofwisdom and family.

Wishing all of you and your families a very happy, healthy, prosperous and peaceful New Year.

May it be a good -- even a better! -- year for all of you.

It's the Little Things...

...that count in a big way.

Today I turned 47. It was a day like any other -- getting the kids up in the morning, getting them to school, picking up groceries and running errands, dealing with the household, etc.

I got homemade b'day cards and email b'day cards; I got Facebook birthday greetings; I got telephone calls from siblings.

There was no option today to go out and celebrate this birthday, but I did celebrate it when I answered the phone just after 8:00 this morning to hear my mother singing me "Happy Birthday" and then my father getting on the phone to wish me a happy birthday and many other blessings.

Having my parents in my life makes for two of the greatest "presence" of all!

Are You There, G-d? It's Me...Pearl.

My husband came home from shul this a.m. and told me that a friend from shul is traveling to NY on Thursday to go to the OHEL, the Lubavitcher Rebbe's final resting ground, where people from all over the world come to pray at Rabbi Schneerson's grave, and often leave a "petek" -- the equivalent of the millions of notes stuffed into the Wailing Wall, notes that have prayers and requests for good health, peace, financial stability. The list goes on and on. The friend asked if we want to write a petek, so I began to write one this evening.

As I was writing, I realized I was writing in Hebrew, and then wondered WHY?? Does G-d only understand Hebrew? Are there not thousands of Lubavitchers who come from the world over to visit the OHEL? Are all the notes that are left at the gravesite written in Hebrew? Highly doubtful -- no doubt they are in Yiddish, English, French, Italian, Spanish, Portugese, etc.

The language of prayer can be the language one is most familiar and most comfortable with, but I guess my subconscious had decided that the holiest language should be the language of choice for my prayer representing my hopes and desires for my family.

Let us hope that Rabbi Schneerson is as good an emissary as the thousands he's sent out into the world and that he will be able to get my message straight to G-d... And the fact that my message doesn't need any translation might even speed things up! :)

Everyone Loved Molly

Molly Picon, with her geneyvishe oygen (mischievous eyes)

I love this photo of the late, great doyenne of the Yiddish theater, Molly Picon.

Often referred to as the Jewish Helen Hayes, this diminutive actress left her mark on the world.

She was born Margaret Pyekoon on Broome Street on the Lower East Side of Manhattan on February 28, 1898.

In 1903, Clara [Molly's mother] took five-year-old Margaret, dressed in red and sporting an elegant fake-fur muff, to the Bijou Theater for a contest. A drunk on the trolley demanded that she do her act then and there. She consented, concluding with an imitation of the drunk himself. Impressed, he collected pennies for her from the other passengers. At the contest, she would add to them the first-prize five-dollar gold piece and the loose change that her first legitimate audience had spontaneously tossed onstage. Margaret/Molly Picon had begun her theatrical career...

Pet Peeve

Listen, people, and listen good. If you're going to post an engagement picture/album, a l'chaim/vort picture/album on http://www.onlysimchas.com/, then please...please...please... POST PICTURES OF YOUR WEDDING TOO!

We admired you in your surprise engagement-caught-on-film pics, we admired you and your chattan/kallah in your vort pics -- why stop there?

If it's about "ayin harah," you wouldn't be posting ANY pics of you and your beloved, so don't make that claim.

The people who have the right idea are the ones who do post engagement pics, then wedding pics, then bris/simchat bat pics...we get to see the beautiful, mazeldik progress of your singlehood as it becomes couplehood as it becomes parenthood!

And listen, for people like me, it doesn't help to list your engagement or other simcha WITHOUT posting ANY PICS at all.

So if you're going to do it at all, do it right! Okay???

'Nuf said.

A Moment to Ponder -- Part 3

1. Have you ever noticed...

when you're walking in a residential neighborhood and you suddenly smell "that laundry smell" (coming through exterior house vents) indicating that someone is doing laundry...

That smell is ALWAYS the same, no matter whose house it's emanating from. Does that mean that everyone is using Tide or Purex or Arm & Hammer?

It doesn't seem to matter if the detergent/fabric softener you buy is labeled "Fresh Mountain Breeze" or "After the Rain" or "Powdery Clean" -- the end result is that they all smell the same.

2. Have you ever stopped to realize...

that some of the qualities you don't care for in another person, some of those idiosyncracies that irritate you...are often qualities you yourself are guilty of having and displaying.

3. Have you ever tried to...

get a bit of information from someone who doesn't want to share by making an accusatory or know-it-all statement about the fact and immediately that person corrects you -- so now you know that bit of information that they were concealing.

Yes, it's a rather low tactic, and not one that I adhere to, but rather one that I often fall victim to!

A Moment to Ponder -- Part 2

1. Have you ever wondered...

... if it's only you who thinks in moments of crisis/tragedy/conflict that make international headlines, "I wonder if there were any Jews on that flight... I wonder if so-and-so who was killed in that avalanche is a Jew -- it sounds like a Jewish name.... I hope there were no Jews on that flight...in that 10-car collision...in that tsunami devastation..."

Of course I have feelings for everyone, but for me it always comes back to being a Jew and recognizing fellow Jews.

When I heard about the plane crash yesterday in Russia, my reaction was "I hope there were no Jews on that flight" and was saddened to learn that a Jewish family of four were indeed killed in that accident.

2. Have you ever thought it might be nice to...

...ask that stranger beside you in the elevator where they bought their purse. But then you debate with yourself too long and the person gets off the elevator before you get the chance to ask them.

3. Have you ever tried to...

...see if your foot is really as long as your forearm between wrist and elbow -- as the theory holds.

A Moment to Ponder

HAVE YOU EVER...

1. found yourself just humming mindlessly and then suddenly stopping to actually listen to yourself and see what it is you've been humming?

That just happened to me; I was taking the dog for a late-night walk and was humming up the street and then I listened to myself. I was humming the late Luther Vandross's "Dance with My Father." I don't know why I was doing so -- as my husband is in his year of mourning, we don't listen to music in the home when he's in earshot, so it wasn't as if I'd heard it on the radio anytime recently. But I knew that I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness when I realized what I'd been humming.
Thank G-d my father is alive; he is not aging very well and has great difficulty even walking these days, much less dancing. Perhaps my subconscious was just telling me that I wish my father "of old" were back to dance with me, were back to his old, familiar self...

2. found yourself hiding in your own home or apartment when someone came to visit, not answering the peal of the doorbell or the rapping of a knock or the annoyance of a buzzer.

That has happened to us; we've "hidden out" from another family, not wanting to be social on a particular Shabbat afternoon, and telling the kids to be quiet, so the family wouldn't hear our giggles on the other side of the door.

3. wondered what it might've been like knowing your spouse as a child (Robert Avrech is an exception, having known his wife Karen since he was nine years old) -- ie. if you would have gotten on as children as you do in adult life

4. taken the time to tell someone how much they mean to you

5. allowed yourself to feel guilty over something you truly didn't have to

6. pondered why THE $100,000 PYRAMID went off the air, when it was such a good game show

Mazel Tov...

(from Yeshiva World News blog)

Israel: A Grandmother of 7 Gives Birth to Her 19th

Blei Ayin Hora

September 14, 2008

After 8 boys and 10 girls, Sima Zalmanov, 47, from Tzfas, gave birth to a boy last week, her 19th child blei ayin hora. The new boy was born in Rebecca Ziff Hospital in Tzfas, where the staff knows her well.

Sima admits, “It came as a surprise. I thought at this age, I would not have more children but we are excited over the gift”.

Sima, who has been married for 27 years, is the principal of the city’s Chabad high school for girls. Her eldest child, a son, is 26. Six of the couple’s children are married.

Sima and her husband are waiting for the birth of their eighth grandchild due next month I”YH.