Dedication
For Erika
This book is dedicated to you—not because you ever read it (thankfully), and not because you inspired it, but precisely because you didn’t read it, nor inspire it.
Had you gotten your hands on it back in 1995, we might never have walked into each other’s lives at all—and what a whirlwind that would have erased.
We met beside the ancient stones of Jerusalem, in the shadow of the Kotel, thanks to your grandmother, Bubby Irma, who lived just steps away from Aish HaTorah in the Old City.
I was wide-eyed and full of questions. You were elegant, grounded, and a little suspicious of me—which, in retrospect, was only fair.
By July of 1996, we were married, packed, and on our way to St. Louis, Mo. to save the Jewish world—one "Big Shabbos" at a time. It was an adventure as bold and chaotic as we were. Our life together was full of colour and complexity, heartbreak and laughter, challenge and joy.
I know I gave you a hard ride at times—okay, maybe more than “at times.” But I also know that from our years together came four miraculous souls, each one a gift I would never trade for anything. And as far as raising them, you did the heavy lifting. For that, for them, I will always be grateful to you.
And to that handwriting analyst your grandparents hired: thank you for being deceived by my calm penmanship. I may have looked balanced, but my head was spinning like a dreidel in a wind tunnel.
Erika, I wish you every happiness, every blessing, and peace beyond measure. May your journey with Eli be a beautiful one, rich in love and full of light, all the way to the end of time.
With deepest gratitude,
Micha
For Erika
This book is dedicated to you—not because you ever read it (thankfully), and not because you inspired it, but precisely because you didn’t read it, nor inspire it.
Had you gotten your hands on it back in 1995, we might never have walked into each other’s lives at all—and what a whirlwind that would have erased.
We met beside the ancient stones of Jerusalem, in the shadow of the Kotel, thanks to your grandmother, Bubby Irma, who lived just steps away from Aish HaTorah in the Old City.
I was wide-eyed and full of questions. You were elegant, grounded, and a little suspicious of me—which, in retrospect, was only fair.
By July of 1996, we were married, packed, and on our way to St. Louis, Mo. to save the Jewish world—one "Big Shabbos" at a time. It was an adventure as bold and chaotic as we were. Our life together was full of colour and complexity, heartbreak and laughter, challenge and joy.
I know I gave you a hard ride at times—okay, maybe more than “at times.” But I also know that from our years together came four miraculous souls, each one a gift I would never trade for anything. And as far as raising them, you did the heavy lifting. For that, for them, I will always be grateful to you.
And to that handwriting analyst your grandparents hired: thank you for being deceived by my calm penmanship. I may have looked balanced, but my head was spinning like a dreidel in a wind tunnel.
Erika, I wish you every happiness, every blessing, and peace beyond measure. May your journey with Eli be a beautiful one, rich in love and full of light, all the way to the end of time.
With deepest gratitude,
Micha