Ovadia & Ruth Tamir z"tl
The Kid from Iraq old city Baghdad meets A Girl from Poland old city of Zamosc
They meet in Shech Monis and got married January 31 1951
By Rachel Kohn Tamir & Sammy Tamir
The Kid from Iraq old city Baghdad meets A Girl from Poland old city of Zamosc
They meet in Shech Monis and got married January 31 1951
By Rachel Kohn Tamir & Sammy Tamir
Their Parents
The Kids
The Grandkids
Good Old Memories
My Safta by Michelle Kohn
I think of you and remember you as a second mother during my childhood years. Fond memories come to my eyes painting beautiful pictures and emanate such delicious smells that allude to all my senses. You were a survivor through and through. From a very young age your journey began in a dark place after your mother got news that your father was not coming home and shortly after being displaced from your family, running away from the holocaust, and running through the bitter cold winter in Poland. However, your courage and strength got you to France where you made friends who lasted a lifetime and then Israel where you had to start your life over. You were forced to grow up quickly and met my Zaide.
You always had a passion for caregiving and teaching no matter how difficult the times were. In Israel you ran a little preschool in your neighborhood, shach munes, until you finally moved to the states. First to NY and then to Florida where you became not only a passionate wife, and dedicated mother but a caregiver to the next generation; to your grandchildren. While my parents or uncle were busy working you always took charge. After school and weekends you were my mother, my home away from home. I remember clearly when I would watch you cook, and with your cooking came a whole generation of stories. I would watch you exercise, and learned the importance of caring for your neshama and body at such a young age. I also learned from your generous ways; for you always had a little present for one of us, and lastly learned how to be honest and realistic. Safta would always say “Michelley from your mouth to G-d ears”, because you know we can plan but Hashem laughs. Understanding dreams was also an area of interest to you; after having a bad dream you would always have some answer or interesting interpretation; which was fascinating to my little ears. Other times I remember artfully admiring you in the bathroom while I watched you modestly braid your beautiful long hair. Thinking back Zaidie would constantly share pictures of you and say look at my beautiful movie actress wife. From week to week I looked forward to Shabbat visits with you. There was never a Friday afternoon I would think twice about running over to you safta and sneaking in some pre-shabbat food. I would spend all shabbat morning waiting to go over to your house so the family could be together and have our traditional shabbat meals. I would carry my little luggage bag that reads going to grandmas; a bag our kids now use. Confidently I would walk over from my house to yours in hopes of spending more cherishable moments, eating richly cultured and story telling foods, as well as saturday night sleepovers with my brother and cousins; kelly and donny. Whenever the time was you always gracefully welcomed me with kisses, stories, and hugs.
You were a survivor up until the last minute. Not before long your memory began to fail you and you began to repeat yourself in the most honorable way. Re-addressing your concerns, retelling stories and repeatedly asking questions about the kids you continued to be kind, generous and all of a sudden very funny. Your affinity for animals and kids was incredible. How much you loved your dogs, reminiscing on poopsie, jenny, and then fluffy. I remember how hilarious you thought is was when fluffy made a mad dash from the house to go chase the ducks. Even during the last year of your life you held on strong, and never failed me in reciprocating your love. During moments of dull silence you would then awake to tell me that you loved me, blow me a kiss, and smile. In the lull moments when you were barely speaking you would wake and say to me, michelley you have a pimple and then proceed to educate me on leaving it alone. The very brief moments you interacted gave me a sense that you would be ok.
I leave you with these memories because you are forever my survivor, my role model, and hashem should protect you and bring you to a happier place.
I think of you and remember you as a second mother during my childhood years. Fond memories come to my eyes painting beautiful pictures and emanate such delicious smells that allude to all my senses. You were a survivor through and through. From a very young age your journey began in a dark place after your mother got news that your father was not coming home and shortly after being displaced from your family, running away from the holocaust, and running through the bitter cold winter in Poland. However, your courage and strength got you to France where you made friends who lasted a lifetime and then Israel where you had to start your life over. You were forced to grow up quickly and met my Zaide.
You always had a passion for caregiving and teaching no matter how difficult the times were. In Israel you ran a little preschool in your neighborhood, shach munes, until you finally moved to the states. First to NY and then to Florida where you became not only a passionate wife, and dedicated mother but a caregiver to the next generation; to your grandchildren. While my parents or uncle were busy working you always took charge. After school and weekends you were my mother, my home away from home. I remember clearly when I would watch you cook, and with your cooking came a whole generation of stories. I would watch you exercise, and learned the importance of caring for your neshama and body at such a young age. I also learned from your generous ways; for you always had a little present for one of us, and lastly learned how to be honest and realistic. Safta would always say “Michelley from your mouth to G-d ears”, because you know we can plan but Hashem laughs. Understanding dreams was also an area of interest to you; after having a bad dream you would always have some answer or interesting interpretation; which was fascinating to my little ears. Other times I remember artfully admiring you in the bathroom while I watched you modestly braid your beautiful long hair. Thinking back Zaidie would constantly share pictures of you and say look at my beautiful movie actress wife. From week to week I looked forward to Shabbat visits with you. There was never a Friday afternoon I would think twice about running over to you safta and sneaking in some pre-shabbat food. I would spend all shabbat morning waiting to go over to your house so the family could be together and have our traditional shabbat meals. I would carry my little luggage bag that reads going to grandmas; a bag our kids now use. Confidently I would walk over from my house to yours in hopes of spending more cherishable moments, eating richly cultured and story telling foods, as well as saturday night sleepovers with my brother and cousins; kelly and donny. Whenever the time was you always gracefully welcomed me with kisses, stories, and hugs.
You were a survivor up until the last minute. Not before long your memory began to fail you and you began to repeat yourself in the most honorable way. Re-addressing your concerns, retelling stories and repeatedly asking questions about the kids you continued to be kind, generous and all of a sudden very funny. Your affinity for animals and kids was incredible. How much you loved your dogs, reminiscing on poopsie, jenny, and then fluffy. I remember how hilarious you thought is was when fluffy made a mad dash from the house to go chase the ducks. Even during the last year of your life you held on strong, and never failed me in reciprocating your love. During moments of dull silence you would then awake to tell me that you loved me, blow me a kiss, and smile. In the lull moments when you were barely speaking you would wake and say to me, michelley you have a pimple and then proceed to educate me on leaving it alone. The very brief moments you interacted gave me a sense that you would be ok.
I leave you with these memories because you are forever my survivor, my role model, and hashem should protect you and bring you to a happier place.
THE STORY OF EMMA JOURNEY FROM: POLAND TO ISRAEL AND TO AMERICA
