Malka and Shimmy Pine P

Meet Malka & Shimmy Pine

By Malka Pine

Shimmy and Malka Pine love Israel so much, they live in two different cities – add in their home in Manchester, UK – three homes! (“Honey, where did I leave my…”) Shimmy’s parents fled Germany during the 1930s, settling in the expanding refugee community in Manchester UK. They left behind his mother’s parents and two young brothers who subsequently perished in the Shoah. Shimmy, born in 1947, was the second of three sons. In Manchester, his father established a small but successful business selling army surplus goods that were in abundance after the war. After two years in Gateshead Yeshiva (1964-1966), Shimmy applied to study economics and management science at university. He planned to enter the world of accountancy – but due to his father’s deteriorating health, he changed his life course and entered the family business. With his father at the helm and his mother handling the accounts, the small family business grew, eventually importing industrial textiles from the Far East and selling them to manufacturers in the UK and beyond. Our son Eli now runs the business together with his uncle, and they have recently been joined by our grandson Joey – making it a fourthgeneration business! I was also born in Manchester, in 1950, to refugee parents fleeing Europe. My mother came to the UK from Frankfurtam-Mein in 1938 and my father from Lithuania in 1931. My father was the youngest of 13 siblings born into a rabbinical family in Kelm, Lithuania. Almost all the children followed in my grandfather’s footsteps or married into other rabbinical families. Only my father and one uncle followed a different course: my father going on to study accountancy in the evenings after a full day of yeshiva studies. My father set up an accountancy practice that eventually included two of my brothers. As the only girl, with five brothers, I was delightfully spoiled by my father.

A Best Friend Named Shimmy

At 16 I was sent to school in France for a year, and though miserable for the first few weeks (no cellphones, only weekly tearful long distance phone calls with my mother) I made new friends, spent much time in the beautiful French countryside and learned to speak fluent French. Meanwhile, my older brother Dovzi (David Zvi) had a best friend named Shimmy who began spending a lot of time in our house – especially after I returned from France. We married in 1969. We settled into a routine with our parents nearby, and within the first 15 years of marriage had five children. Shimmy became involved in communal work. He was Chairman of the Board of Governors of our local Jewish Primary School and several other educational establishments. Before making aliyah he was honored with the title of “Chaver” for services to the Manchester Jewish Community.

A Cloak and Dagger Affair

In 1985 we were approached by the Jewish Agency to go to the Soviet Union to visit “refuseniks.” We left our five children with our parents telling everyone we were going on vacation to Eilat. This was a very cloak and dagger affair because the Soviet authorities were hostile to support for Jews who had sought permission to emigrate to Israel. We attended secret meetings, gave shiurim, distributed kosher food and items of a religious nature. I even smuggled out an important document (under my sheitel ) that was urgently required by English lawyers on behalf of certain refuseniks. Thankfully we returned safely home to the UK, though in hindsight maybe we were somewhat foolhardy to leave five small children. Although busy with the kids at home, I found time to do voluntary work at a local advice center and applied to Manchester University for a degree in social work. I was a middle aged, middle class, Orthodox Jewish woman, attending university in my early 40s, the oldest student in the class. After qualifying, I worked on a child protection team dealing with drug- and alcohol-dependent adults and often putting their children into foster/ residential care – work that was often painful and challenging. Subsequently I joined the Manchester Jewish Social Services, working mainly with the Charedi community. Although abuse was less prevalent, it was still difficult working within one’s own community. One angry husband even tried to run me off the road and also yelled obscenities at me in a local Jewish supermarket. It must be in the genes as both our daughters have become social workers in Israel. Aliyah was always our dream and after four of our children were married and living in Israel, Shimmy and I made

aliyah in 2007, together with Shimmy’s 84-year-old mother. We have had 14 wonderful years in Israel, spending time in Jerusalem and Netanya with the children and grandchildren and making new friends. We have an open house in Jerusalem inviting neighbors, friends and interesting people whom we meet including two waitresses and one disillusioned girl whom Shimmy met at the gym. We have always been interested in helping Jews to meet and marry – with the age range recently expanding to 60s and 70s. I recently joined a dating website, called Chiburim, as a mentor to assist young singles to navigate the complex world of dating.

The Sound of Music

Shimmy always enjoyed music and his parents’ house was filled with the sound of singing. He became a member of the Manchester Jewish Male Voice Choir and sang with the world’s leading cantors. Soon after aliyah he attended a course for chazanut at the Great Synagogue of Jerusalem (2008) where he met a voice teacher whose wife is a concert trained pianist. The teacher has accompanied him on many occasions. One of Shimmy’s aims was to record various classical pieces for future generations of our family. To date he has made CD recordings of pieces by Handel, Schubert, Halevi and several others. Shimmy loves all kinds of music (except jazz), singing baroque music, opera, chazanut and even some pop. At the start of the Covid pandemic, during lockdown, when Shimmy could not go to shul, one Shabbat, he stepped out onto the balcony and sang, “Ani Maamin.” The neighbors joined in and soon everyone in the courtyard was singing together. Our Shabbat “zemirot sing-along” has since become a regular weekly feature. We have commemorated Yom Hashoah, Yom Hazikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut together and he makes Havdalah every motzei Shabbat. People from outside come to listen and participate. We keep busy with book club, Pilates, Hebrew classes, shiurim, tiyulim - and of course we love coming to SNAC and Netanya.

Triple Siyum on the Roof

By Issy Zuckerbrod

Truth be told, I did not find the corona year too difficult. In fact, there were some distinct benefits. I suppose the most difficult aspect was the lack of physical contact with our families, but even that was mitigated by the increased use of Skype, Zoom and other social media. The mushrooming of outside minyanim was a major phenomenon. Of course when there was a strict lockdown, my wife enjoyed my full choral service in the salon, suggesting that this become the new norm. I certainly enjoyed myself with no risk of being mocked for my cantorial efforts! Staying at home I discovered intimate Shabbat meals with my wife, who suddenly developed an interest in experimental cooking. The weight problem became an issue, but the extensive variety of new recipes made it all worthwhile. Since retiring, my major daily activities have been learning with my friends, my chevrutot. Again, with the aid of Skype all learning carried on as usual. I could zoom in to my shiurim without leaving my comfortable armchair and could mute myself and turn off the video, eliminating the need to get dressed. I could even have a snack while the shiur was taking place and no one would be the wiser. During the course of the year we finished two masechtot of Gemara and Sefer Melachim Aleph and Bet. This presented a problem. We could not make a siyum with a minyan for any of our achievements. So with the easing of restrictions, how to make three siyumim became my major deliberation. The idea came to me in a flash. A triple siyum! I consulted with the rabbi of the shul my wife had attended in London in Golders Green, who was now in Israel, asking him if a triple siyum was even possible. After all, one is not supposed to mix one simcha with another. Not only could it be done, he said, but it was a “meritorious” thing to do, greatly increasing the joy of the occasion. But it was important to give each siyum its own due importance. The rabbi recommended full catering and a very careful program with specific timing to give equal importance to each siyum. After the dips and salads, we began the first siyum with the hadran and full kaddish. Then came the first course of the meal, followed by the second siyum, hadran, and kaddish, in turn followed by the next course. And so on until after the third siyum when the guest of honor gave a Dvar Torah. The large roof of our apartment is a great place to make smachot. The year of corona had deprived us of opportunities to take advantage of this wonderful facility. Now for this triple siyum we had 51 guests on the roof. It was a great occasion, and for many of our guests it was a first opportunity to socialize after the year-plus of corona.

The SNAC Writers' Circle

Everyone has a story...

Everyone is a writer. Everyone has a story to tell. It may be about an actual event or experience. Or it could be a story from your own imagination. It might be a poem, a letter to a publication or an opinion piece. If “there is a song [story] in [your] heart,” we welcome you to the Writers’ Circle. We meet every week to review pieces that each writer presents. We encourage one another, giving positive and thoughtful feedback, the aim being to develop your unique voice. Do not think this is beyond you. This is a wonderful opportunity

to start writing those memoirs you want to hand down to your children, or to put the fruits of your imagination on paper.

Our motto: “Everyone has a story to tell. Our job: to help you tell it in the best possible style.”

Come and join us!

For more information, please contact Molly Zwanziger at mollyzwanziger@yahoo.com, or 054-916-5858.

Shabbat Afternoon Walk

By Charlotte Wiener

Slowly I stroll through the somnolent streets Suburban sounds resonate around me The afternoon buzz of families on garden patios Children’s voices calling to each other in play Filter through the porous garden boundaries Everyone is at peace in a Shabbat afternoon harmony

Curiously, I peer into well-maintained yards Admiring the carefully arranged sculptures and pots Petunias and begonias spill out in a riot of color Jacaranda trees form a purple canopy Other yards are a jumble of weeds, bikes and balls And stray cats glare warily out of their lofty perches

The sun starts to sink and the air gets cooler Green squawking parrots streak across the sky Flocks of chattering birds roost in the trees Groups of white shirted men with kippas and tsitsit Lethargic from their satiated meals and afternoon naps Amble towards their mincha minyans.

All is right with the world.

Pigeons

By Barbara Sopkin

They flew in wars. They carried messages. They were eaten. We repaid them without meaning to. Our town built them a home with food, privacy and a sea view. The smog that arrives by day when car-clad humans travel in herds on designated paths The fog that comes on humid evenings Obscures the reason why we built their palace next to the sea Our numbers grew, and so did theirs. Suddenly, one summer, the handful that frequented the balcony multiplied exponentially. The city is cleaning up their haunt by the sea, my neighbor said. It’s prime land for development. They made themselves at home in human habitations. They took over the balcony, the clothes line, the window sills, the roof. Their droppings sully my refuge. They carry diseases. When their excretions dry, their germs blow in the wind. They have taken revenge, and I have surrendered and become their maid.

Waiting

By Judy Isenberg

And so we wait to hear the phone’s hello Relieved that all have reached their journey’s aim And so we fear to hear the phone’s despair That some or one are stuck in limbo still Awaiting impetus to progress on.

Suspended here we fear to breathe too hard In case we dash the spinning plates to earth With clumsy weight of hope’s untrue embrace. We tread the water with our churning feet We fill the time with useless tasks like this.

We cheat ourselves by covering the clock Re-calculating normal journey times Composing stranger reasons for delay. Secure the parcel, make the heart-strings tight That bind my overflowing, throbbing chest.

Strange fancies break the bonds with fresh despair When the balloon of hope is fully flat. The silent screen taunts with its surface blank And then a spray of sound inflates my heart. With news that’s good or bad I dare not ask.

The Last Word

By Mike Garmise

Name that Month!

With the new year approaching, we all wait with varying degrees of eagerness for the new calendars to come in the mail from our insurance agents and donation-seeking organizations, so that we have where to write in all of our activities, and not double-book (too often). But where does the word calendar come from, and why doesn’t it have a regular “er” suffix? A short search reveals that in Roman times calendar originally referred to an account book, where monthly income and expenses were registered. A new page was opened on each calends, the first day of the month. This was, of course, the day on which debts were due and accounts were reckoned. And here’s where the plot thickens (or sickens). Calends, it turns out, comes from the root meaning “to call out.” To which I can hear you all asking, “What’s the connection?” The answer is both surprising and familiar. The first day of the month was not determined astronomically but rather by a physical sighting of the new moon which was then announced (called out) by – the Priests, at the Capitol! Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Oh, those Romans... Well, from this we can easily rearrange the letters so that calends becomes “claim” and its whole family – acclaim, declaim, exclaim, reclaim, etc. And “clamor” – all sorts of noise – just to mention a few. In Hebrew we just use the word luach, which means a board on which things can be written, be they accounts or events. The word ends with ar rather than er because calender already existed as a word, and it meant a cloth presser. Its root traces back to cylinder because of the similar shape of the apparatus (and from here we can also move to the word column, the same shape but in buildings such as the Acropolis or the Roman Senate). Since we’re in the calendar, let’s examine the sources of the names of the days of the week. Obviously, Sunday and Monday tip their proverbial hats to the sun and moon, and Saturday to Saturn. The remaining days are named after Germanic gods – Tiw’s day, an equivalent of Mars, Woden’s day, an equivalent (somehow) of Mercury, and Thor’s day of Jupiter (with his lightning). Freya, of Friday, is the Germanic version of Venus. And penultimately, in our tour of the calendar, something about the last months of the year, September through December. We all know that Sept, Oct, Nov and Dec are the prefixes for seven, eight, nine and ten, respectively. However, these months are actually numbers nine, ten, eleven and twelve. Is it possible the Romans erred? Actually, they were quite right, at the time, for September through December were their months seven through ten. Then Christianity became the official religion and a new calendar was adopted, based on the “rebirth” of the sun at the end of December, instead of the rebirth of the earth, in March. Because in Roman times, March, named for Mars, was in fact the first month of the year, the time at which it was propitious to begin to think about going out to war. This, incidentally, clears up another seeming anomaly. February. It has fewer days than any other month in the year and the additional day of leap year is added to it. Thinking back to our Hebrew calendar, we know that the leap year correction is appended to the last month of the year, Adar. Logical. Doesn’t it seem silly to add an extra day to the second month of the year, even if only once every four years? But when we understand that February was actually the twelfth month, the Romans don’t seem so befuddled. On the other hand, “what have they ever done for us?”

Say it in

Hebrew!

Time, Frequency & א ] Quantityבתומכו תורידת ,ןמז zman, tadiroot v'kamut[

דCompletely ]Le-gamrei[ יֵרְמַגְל

Certainly ]ba-roor[ רוּרָבּ Definitely ג ]be-hech-let[ טֵלְחֵהְבּ Suddenly ]pit-om[ םוֹאְתִפּ א Immediately

]mi-yad[ דַיִמ ב

Exactly

]bi-di-yook[ קוּיִדְבּ א ב ב ד Enough ]maspik[ קִיפְּסֵמ Too much ]yoter midai[ ידִמ רֵתוֹי Always ]tamid[ דיִמָת Usually, generally ]be-derech clal[ לָלְכּ ךֶרֶדְבּ In the meantime ]ben-tayim[ םיִיַתְניֵבּ Still ]adayan[ ןיִיַדֲע

Not yet

]adayin lo[ אֹל ןיִיַדֲע

Already

]cvar[ רָבְכּ

Once

]pa-am achat[ תַחַא םַעֵפּ ~ Barbara Westbrook ~גא Twice ]pa-amayim[ םיִיַמֵעֵפּ Never ]af pa-am[ םַעַפּ ףַא

The Shine Family Office

The Shine Group was created in 2008, as a separate entity to the leading law firm Michael Shine & Partners, by that firm’s founders, Michael Shine, Shira Shine, and Alon Shine. Providing multinational families and High Net Worth individuals with a wide range of customized financial/structural/estate planning solutions and family portfolio scenarios, the Shine Group's multi-disciplinary team of more than fifty experienced financial specialists is dedicated to handling every aspect of our clients' financial affairs.

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Michael Shine & Partners

Michael Shine & Partners is one of the leading law firms in Israel in the Private Client field with expertise in: international tax planning, the establishment and administration of trusts, trust taxation, multi-national asset protection, family wealth preservation, local real estate transactions including buying, selling and leasing, estate planning and general legal counsel for multi-national families.

4th Floor, Sea View Building, 11 HaSadnaot Street, Herzliya Pituach 4612001, Israel P.O. Box 2053, Fax: +972(0) 9531954 Tel: +972(0) 9531953 Email: Office@shinelaw.com