On the wall of my study at the synagogue is a painting my grandfather Alex did in the early 1920’s. It depicts the Leviathan, the ship that brought my grandfather from Europe to this country. Both he and my grandmother, also an immigrant, came here fleeing persecution. My grandmother spent weeks, if not months, in fear of the next pogroms. It was a hard life and one that they rarely spoke of. Instead, they spent their entire adult lives as proud citizens of these United States.
That painting sits on my study wall as a constant reminder that my sister Martha and I have the life we have because of our grandparents’ decision to come to America. The painting is there to ensure that I never forget that I am the grandchild of immigrants and that, as a result, I not only owe this nation a debt of gratitude, but …Learn More