Our Community
Poetry
Poet June Sidran Mandelkern, 94 explores the terrain ahead as we age, and yet she has acquired along the way a strong sense of simply being alive.
Her collection of Poems are published in her book, TO THE FAR COUNTRY. June has given us permission to share her passionate words. A reviewer said, "If you think the goal of poetry is truth, then you will find it here in a clear, graceful language that all can comprehend."
A poem by June Sidran Mandelkern
I was born in 1924.
The great Israeli poet of the same vintage,
Yehuda Amichai, said it was a good year
to be born. He died in 2000 at the age of 76.
I hope he would approve of me.
Introspection is the hallmark of old age:
What shall I do in my remaining years?
What truths can I realize, what footprints
will I leave upon the sands?
Forgive the cliche, it's time to move on.
In one short decade I will be 100.
Shall we make a date for dinner?
which restaurant should we go to?
Pick me up at 7:00.
Don't be late.
____________________________
If you want to read more, TO THE FAR COUNTRY is available on Amazon.
Our Featured Items
Crafted with love by Barbara Adner
Elegant Necklace
Perfect for family gatherings
Calendar Gift
Celebrate special moments
Calendar Keepsake
Family memories on display
Community Banner
Show your community pride
Event Poster
Promote upcoming events
Family Photo Frame
Capture family memories
Join us for family fun and community connection in Boston!
A Survivor's story
Ruth asked us to share this article, written by her brother, about their journey to America from Germany in World War II
By Armin Loeb, 1946
In Malsch, Germany on the 16 of June, 1930, at one o’clock in the afternoon, I arrived in this big world of ours. I was an exceptionally small and, I shall say, a cute baby, although I was completely bald. My parents must have been very happy with me for I was a boy. According to Jewish tradition, my name was to start with an A and thus I inherited my name, Armin.
With my parents and grandparents (on my father’s side) I lived in a big three story house which my grandparents themselves had built at the turn of the nineteenth century. It was located on a steep, cobblestone hill, called Swan Hill (Schwanebuckel). Next door was the Swan Hill Inn (die Schwane), which my grandparents once had owned. My dad and granddad were cattle dealers and farmers. In back of our house were the stalls and the barn the fields lay outside the village. We had a big, enchanting garden near our house in which my grandma and Mother (Mutti) were oftimes found working. We were neither rich nor poor but lived comfortable and happily.
Kristallnacht
Just before my seventh birthday my mother took me to school to register me. I remember I was quite frightened and cried the first day I started with first grade for there was no kindergarten. The teachers were all men, who weren’t, in the least, afraid to whip you. Boys and girls were in separate classes. The schools, even then, certainly preached the Hitler doctrine. In front of every classroom was a giant picture of the Fuhrer.
