Protein is what makes children grow big and strong. Ask a survivor. They know
My parents are coming, and the house is alight with preparations and joy. Frenzied cooking, polishing the light switches, doing last-minute ironing, freshening up the bathrooms, hanging the cheery “Welcome Babby and Zeidy” signs… and they’re here!
My father, of the timeless, Jewish, long-suffering face, enters first, bearing a suitcase in his arms — no handles for him, oh no, too easy. He’s carrying his load like the baby one proffers to the kohein for its pidyon.
“Ta, let me help you…” I reach forward in what I know already to be a futile gesture.
“No! You have to hold it like this. Your mother baked a cake for Yom Tov and I don’t want it to get ruined.” Their entire trip, this soldier shouldered his burden so the cream on my mother’s famous 14 egg-yolk Crazy Cake shouldn’t smear. Crazy Cake, you gotta be crazy to make it and crazier still to eat it, it’s so rich.
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