Fifteen simanim form the structure of our Seder. If we listen closely, we can hear them echo in our everyday lives. Fifteen stories of transformation and tradition
Kadeish
Faigy Peritzman
My Uncle Fritz was a solitary soul.
As a child, I was blissfully unaware of the pain and loneliness he must have lived with daily. Instead I was jealous — Uncle Fritz lived in a hotel room all year-round! What could be more fun?
When he came to visit us at my grandparents’ house, there was no sadness in his demeanor. His face was always wreathed in a wide smile. He was a sweet, self-effacing man, full of love for his great-nieces and great-nephews, his only children.
In 1939, Uncle Fritz was engaged to a lovely yekkish girl; they were planning their future despite the ugly backdrop of their homeland. But when my grandparents (his sister and brother-in-law) managed to escape shortly after the war broke out in Poland, Uncle Fritz recognized the handwriting on the wall, and he too fled right before Germany’s gates slammed shut. His kallah never made it out.
Uncle Fritz made his way to the United States, setting up his home in Portland, Oregon, close enough to his sister in Seattle. He joined my grandfather’s business and slowly set about trying to rebuild his life.
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