Issue 25
Summer/Fall 2025
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Quilting Through Life: The NCJWC's The Toronto Jewish Quilting Project Deliver Warmth and Comfort to Cancer Patients
From floral quilts, to a Wizard of Oz quilt, to a heart quilt, to a lantern quilt, to a jewel quilt, to the layers of blocks and tops that have been hand and machine-sewed, each stitch was made with purpose over tea and sweets and laughter, and likely tears.
Breakfast at the Airport
Wings for breakfast? I shiver at the thought.
Learning to Love Honey
I would just stare at the strands of honey running off the apple. It looked too similar to the snot that would run down my classmates' noses when the weather was cold.
The Best Books of 2025 (So Far)
This novel celebrates the queer community, found family, and Jewishiness, while also delving into the struggle of finding yourself and your people in a new place.
Bad Shabbos, Good Comedy
Kyra Sedgwick played it from an intelligent place. She played the character as a warm, loving person, because anyone who knows a Jewish mom knows how caring they are.
Apples and Honey Recipes to Delight
Dipping apples into honey. Is there a more classic taste for the New Year?
Speak to the Trees and They Will Give You a Sign
Even an exposed root could give you a sign or two.
Yom Kippur in Dunhuang
Who were those Jews who travelled to Dunhuang with Hebrew prayers held close, and why had they left those prayers behind? What lands did they come from and how far did they travel? Where, in the end, did their journeys take them?
Bouquet
My cousin with a voice like roses./ Bouquet is a word borrowed from the French.
Standing Up: Rachmones in the Classroom
I cling to my grandfather’s memory, and I imagine him telling me not to worry, that I had done a mitzvah for a fellow Jew, I had expressed rachmones. It was enough.
How Many More
They pushed down the camp’s main road, past the tennis and basketball courts, the snow up to their knees. Everything was still, at rest, white. The cold was sharp, the pines were tall, each step was a workout.
A Lament for the Ruins in Me
The quiet ache of unseen striving, / The rubble of words misunderstood.