Author Archives: Noah Lederman
When I spent time at my grandparents’ Brighton Beach apartment, I searched for Holocaust clues. “Grandma, tell me about the camps?” I begged between slurps of chicken soup.
“Not now. Eat tatehla. Eat.” Food had two functions in Grandma’s apartment: It was a symbol of freedom from Nazi oppression and served as a tasty muzzle for my invasive curiosity.
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