Family deficiencies and the need to perform are equal threads in this mother-daughter narrative.
Marla Brown Fogelman invites her distant cousin Carrie Fisher out to a Jewish Mother’s Day brunch, ideally for blintzes at the restaurant owned by Steven Spielberg’s mom.
When Marla Brown Fogelman hired her son to transcribe her interviews with Jewish World War II veterans, she never expected the job to transform the relationship between them.
What happens when your two grandmothers live next door to each other and don’t get along? Marla Brown Fogelman can finally explain, now that she is a bubbe.
Growing up in ‘less-than-Jewy’ Delaware, Marla Fogelman dreaded Christmas. Only as she became more observant did she begin to appreciate the holiday, eggnog and all.
It was because of my late grandmother and her 40-year obsession with a book called “The Prophet of San Nicandro” that I was sitting at Columbia University’s Café 212, in the middle of a bone-chilling December afternoon, having coffee with professor John Davis.
In a new book, “The Jews of San Nicandro,” John Davis sheds light on the little-known but highly curious tale of how a community of Italian Catholic peasants came to embrace Judaism during the rise of Fascism and the Second World War. Here, he answers a few questions on how and why he came to embrace this particularly unusual historical episode.
In a remote southern Italian town in the 1930s, a group of Catholics who had never before met any Jews began practicing their own idiosyncratic brand of Judaism. Helmed by a disabled and charismatic WWI veteran named Donato Manduzio, who fancied himself a prophet, the 80-odd impoverished peasants of San Nicandro converted en masse after the end of World War II, with the majority eventually emigrating to the newly founded state of Israel.