The Polka Dotted Scarf

I remember opening up his big wooden wardrobe and burying my nose into his handkerchiefs. His clothes always had a pleasant, sweet, and mystical smell – not just

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My Sephardic Inheritance: a Spoonful of Salt, a Spoonful of Sugar

From left: the author’s maternal grandmother, Hilda, with the author’s great-grandparents, Haim and Estrella Galante, on the front porch of their house in colonial Rhodesia, ca. mid-1940s. (Photo

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The Things She Carried: Treasures of the Mundane

She always called it her “old lady bag.” When my mother in law’s purse wore out, after 10 or 15 years of hard use, she asked for another

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