Op-Ed: Nosson, My Little Brother
I’m hurt, I’m shocked; I’m devastated, I have a new hole in my heart
As I’m struggling with my anger and sadness of Nossons tragic passing, I reflect on life’s journey alongside the Deitsches.
It starts with my very youth, in 1963. We moved onto Crown Street, right across the street of the Deitsches. With Reb Sholom and his wife Mirel, and their wonderful six children.
I remember being somewhat envious of the Deitsches. Reb Sholom was a man in his forties, and he had both his parents. Something that we, the first post holocaust generation, were mostly not privileged to have. My father A”h lost both his parents to famine in Samarkand in the early forties, and by the time he was Bar-Mitzvah, he was fully orphaned. I had no paternal grandparents.
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