I doubt she ever realized that a little kid, her admiring student, was impacted by her tefillos
As the baby of the family, I went along to shul on Yamim Noraim at a very young age. The walk was short — cross the street diagonally from our house, and there we were, in front of the Statue-of-Liberty-green, two-family house, the Krakow beis medrash in Boro Park, with the crumbling front steps and the narrow alley that led to the women’s entrance.
I swung my nosh pekelach as I followed my mother and sisters single file through that alley and into the beis medrash. For the first moment, the blast of air conditioning was a relief from the sticky outdoors, but within moments, I was shivering from cold.
It didn’t matter, because I wouldn’t stay inside for long. I had my machzor with my colorful bookmarks, I would say the few tefillos my teacher had taught us, and spend the rest of the day playing games with the kids outside.
Once in a while, I would go back in for a snack or drink, skirting the puddle of water and the steady drips from the air conditioner at the entrance to the ezras nashim. When I think back to that shul, that over-powerful air conditioner is iconic, always the first thing that floods my memory.
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