Remembering the Mommy of Maalot Dafna

Then I turned my oven on and the fuse blew, and as I do so often these days, I thought of Chedva.

We called her the Mommy of Maalot Dafna. It was a joke, but it wasn’t.

I first met Chedva the day after we moved to Eretz Yisrael. I was standing in the hallway with my husband, trying to figure out which electric box was ours, when a sprightly woman danced by, a gaggle of little blonde girls holding onto her skirt.

“Hi, how are you? What’s your names? Your box is up there, to the right. Do you need anything?” We stammered our thanks. She laughed and waved a hand, and that was our first time experiencing something that all members of Maalot Dafna grew to learn in time: Chedva Raskin had all the answers.