Sunday, November 29, 2015

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Nshei Chabad Women’s Magazine–Chanukah Edition now for Download

cover-smallerThe Nshei Chabad Newsletter – the women’s magazine of Chabad Lubavitch for all Jewish women, is now available for immediate download and reading at Amazon, and if you have Amazon Prime or Kindle Unlimited, it’s FREE…  (free sample article at the end of this note)


Kislev-Chanukah $3.99 (or free) at Amazon -

and the past Rosh Hashanah – Tishrei e-Edition is now discounted...

Tishrei-Rosh Hashanah $2.99 (or free) at Amazon -


and ALL the 2014 issues have been price reduced to $1.99...

Kislev - Chanukah last year -

Tishrei - Rosh Hashanah last year -

Tammuz - Summer last year -

Nissan - Pesach last year -

Shvat - Purim last year -


Please try them out, and don’t forget to add a review on Amazon.


And here’s a brief excerpt…


Yisroel and Chasha Rivka Ostrov: Proud Jews in America

My father, Yisroel Ostrov, was born in 1919, the fifth child in a family of five sons and three daughters. His parents Meyer and Bracha Ostrov came over from Poland during their late teens seeking religious freedom and to escape from the violent pogroms in Europe. They lived with relatives until they reached marriageable age. My Bubby Bracha wanted a very religious, learned and G-d-fearing man, and my Zaide Meyer was a Torah scholar seeking a wife to help him raise a family according to the Torah.

During the impoverished Depression years, Zaide Meyer found it difficult to support his eight children. He, like many Jews, would start a job on Monday and be fired by the following week for not coming to work on Shabbos. The next Monday they would be looking for another job, and the cycle would begin again. The only people who could keep their job were those lucky enough to own their own business or to have a boss who was shomer Shabbos. And so most Yidden who were determined to keep the holy Shabbos would go into business. Often this involved peddling their wares all through the countryside on horse and wagon, or locally via pushcarts and tables set up at the local marketplaces. Unfortunately, it was very difficult to get enough money to establish even a modest pushcart business, and many Jews were unable to support themselves.

My grandfather owned a pushcart and he sold buttons, towels, and any other merchandise he could get his hands on. Zaide Meyer barely managed to eke out a livelihood for his family, but he remained determined that his children would study Torah and not go to work while still children (as many did in those years).

When my father Yisroel Ostrov was still very young, he would wake up early in the morning to attend the Yeshiva Mesivta Tiferes Yerushalayim (MTJ) on East Broadway run by Hagaon Harav Moshe Feinstein z”l. When leaving the house there was usually not a crumb of food for him and his siblings to put into their empty stomachs.

He was a growing boy and going hungry did not sit well with him. One morning he woke up with a plan. He went to a newspaper distribution center and took a large number of newspapers to sell. He got up before 5:00 in the morning and found a busy spot to sell his papers, with a friendly yet assertive, competent attitude. After selling the entire bunch he immediately went back to pay for the papers. He then took his profits straight to the neighborhood grocery and bought two large loaves of bread, some milk and a large package of fresh butter. He quietly let himself into the apartment and lovingly placed the breakfast on the table, every weekday morning for many years.

My father loved learning Torah and attended MTJ from the first grade until he graduated in the eighth grade. At that point, he felt responsible to help support his family and could not continue his schooling during the day. He enrolled in the Seward Park Night High School Program, working toward his high school diploma, and had the entire day to work.

In the summer months he would sell ice cream. He’d carry a large, frozen, box-like insulated container which he would fill with dry ice each morning together with an assortment of frozen ice creams and sell them on the boardwalk, near the beach.

During the cooler months he would deliver goods for many different businesses. He would also hang around the pharmacies that had public pay phones. Most homes in those days had no telephones, and therefore most calls were made to the few businesses that had them. My father would stay by these phones, and whenever a call came in for someone, he’d go to their apartment to tell them that they had a call. People would tip the young boy called Srulik who called them to the phone, and this was another way for my father to earn some extra money.

With all his money-making activities, he showed up to shul to daven with a minyan three times a day.

Most of his siblings were not such hard workers, nor did they have his warm and nurturing nature. He nevertheless loved to make them happy. One of his brothers was a major baseball fan, and my father always made sure to reward him with tickets to the games. If he knew his siblings needed something that was very important to them, he would usually come up with the money for it.

When World War II broke out, my father Yisroel Ostrov was drafted into the army. He knew it was his obligation to serve his country and he had no hesitation about going to war. He felt that America had taken in Yidden such as his parents Meyer and Bracha Ostrov in their time of need and safeguarded them from religious persecution, and he had a responsibility now to step up to the plate.

During basic training he won a sharpshooting award. He then took an intensive 17-week training course on an army base in Texas to become a medic before being shipped overseas. The day of his departure to Europe was handed to him, and he was getting his things ready to go. The day prior to his departure, he bumped into a fellow yeshiva classmate, a Dr. Shuleberg, who was working as a dentist. My father told him that he was to be leaving to Europe the next day as a paramedic. Dr. Shuleberg told my father that he was working as a dentist on the Texas army base, and he needed an assistant for his practice. He immediately asked that my father be transferred over to his base practice, and thus my father was not sent to the front lines.

My father spent the next three years of his army duty as a dental assistant. He lived as a true Yid, trying to keep as much Torah and mitzvos as he could. He volunteered three times a day for kitchen patrol (KP). This much-dreaded job, which soldiers were assigned to once a week, entailed setting the tables, serving the food, and washing out all the pots, pans, dishes and utensils. (Nothing was disposable in those years.) My father volunteered for these duties three times a day because kitchen access was crucial to his survival as a Torah Jew. After all his back-breaking duties, he would then take out his own pot and pan and fry himself some eggs and potatoes, or cook some oatmeal to eat with his personal dish and cutlery that he kept in a hiding place. He always took his day off on Shabbos, and he would try to get a furlough to leave camp and stay near the local shuls. The local shomer Shabbos people made themselves available to the Jewish soldiers in the area and would invite them for Shabbos and Yom Tov meals.

After four years in the army and a promotion to corporal, my father was very happy to receive his honorable discharge. He returned to his parents’ home ready to begin the next phase of his life—meeting his life partner, my mother Chasha Rivka, and building his own Jewish home filled with Torah and mitzvos. How they met shows why G-d is the best shadchan...


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