Flickers of Light

E veryone has a special menorah — it might be the exquisite silver chassan gift from shanah rishonah or the dried-out block of clay with bottle-cap inserts from elementary school or the family heirloom that miraculously made it to safer shores together with bedraggled refugees. But no matter what kind of menorah Jews have lit over the centuries — openly with pride in years of comfort or in hiding with bravery and mesirus nefesh during times of terror and death — that sliver of light continues to push away the overwhelming darkness.

1. Daddy’s Gift

Chaia Frishman

It’s barely November and the search for glass cups for the menorah is already on my mind. This menorah is anything but standard. Then again, neither was the man behind it.

Before “take your daughter to work day” existed, my father often brought me to his shop on 47th Street in Manhattan. There I was able to assemble small tools, watch metal shards fly as he worked on his machines, and observe him interacting with his customers. My favorite memory is the look on a bedraggled customer’s face when Daddy ripped up his bill, absolving him of his debt, and wished him a freilechen Chanukah. Daddy’s talent and business acumen could never compete with his compassion.

It was mixed into his baby food. Born on February 5, 1931, in Brest-Litovsk, a.k.a. Brisk (hometown of our great prime minister, Menachem Begin, Daddy used to boast), my father lived in a simple home. His father, Avraham Gwirczman, made aliyah in 1933. Daddy’s mother, Chaia Tzivia n?e Morosovich, and siblings followed two years later.