The image of Grandmother Rachel in a long taffeta dress reading a prayerbook lies before me. She was born in 1864 and brought my mother, as an infant, to America when the May Laws of 1881 were passed in Russia, resulting in brutal discrimination against Jews and a wave of pogroms.
The struggles of a single mother with three daughters were hers. She had faith in a better future and an unshakable belief in prayer. I remember her warm embraces and the endless sugar cookies. She died in 1920 when I was 6 years old.