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Australia welcomed my family’s Holocaust survivors — and Bondi Beach soon became a symbol of renewal for me
Like so many Jewish Americans whose families immigrated prior to World War II, I grew up believing that none of my family had survived the Holocaust. When I would ask my older relatives, they would shrug. Only my grandfather shared anything about our relatives: He remembered how his parents would receive letters from Lithuania in the late 1930s and early 1940s, until one day they stopped coming.
As far as I knew, we were the only ones left. That is, until my uncle got a strange phone call from an elderly man who spoke with a hybrid German/Australian accent.
My uncle was skeptical; the person on the other end of the line claimed to be a cousin from the Australian branch of the Carvin family, despite the fact that my great-grandfather Max had invented the surname only after reaching the United States in the early 1900s.
The mysterious Australian said he was visiting Boston and asked if he wanted to meet. My uncle declined and ended the call, assuming it was a hoax or a scam.
My cousins, though, were curious. One of them began calling hotels across Boston asking for a Mr. Carvin until she tracked down the Australian. His name was Leo, and he graciously renewed his offer to meet for lunch.
When she arrived at the restaurant, she saw a man who looked much like her father, but older. And he was holding an envelope of letters written on my great-grandfather’s stationery from his home outside of Boston.
Over the course of an afternoon, my cousin learned more about my family history than any of us had uncovered in decades. Leo explained that his mother was one of my great-grandfather Max’s sisters, making Max his uncle. She and Max had continued to correspond during the interwar period; when the Nazis annexed Austria, her young adult children, including Leo, fled to Italy. Coming to the U.S. was no longer as straightforward as it had been for so many European Jews a few decades earlier, but Max tried to arrange visas for them. He suggested they begin using the surname Carvin rather than his sister’s married name, hoping it might increase the chances of obtaining visas.
It made no difference. Despite all of Europe being on the precipice of another world war, the United States would not take them in. But Australia would.
Leo and one of his brothers arrived in Freemantle, Western Australia in October 1938. To honor Max’s efforts to help them escape from Europe, they legally adopted the surname Carvin soon after their arrival. Eventually they found their way to Sydney, where they and their descendants would thrive.
In the years since Leo Carvin made that phone call to my uncle, we’ve gotten to know our Australian branch. They’ve traveled the east coast of the U.S. visiting my family multiple times; two of them crashed my wedding in Baltimore.
I’ve also visited them in Sydney on three occasions, and on each trip, we’ve repeated the same ritual: having drinks overlooking Bondi Beach at a clubhouse founded by Australian veterans of World War II’s North Africa campaign.
It would be wrong to say Bondi is unlike any other beach I’ve been to; in fact, it’s one of several beaches nestled in coves along the southeastern shore of Sydney, all equally inviting and picturesque. But Bondi is the one I will always think of as our family beach in Australia, and the veterans’ clubhouse as our local pub. It’s a place where I got to rediscover my family in a way that all too many Jewish Americans will never get to do, reuniting with the descendants of relatives who escaped the horrors of the Holocaust and found refuge in a new home.
My great-grandfather, an old-school Bundist, probably would have described our family’s immigration to Boston as doikayt, the Yiddish word for “hereness” that celebrates the diversity of the Jewish diaspora and our ability to thrive wherever we end up, often against difficult odds. I can’t help but think of doikayt whenever I think of Bondi Beach and the country that welcomed my extended family when other countries would not. It symbolizes more than just survival – it symbolizes renewal, prosperity, and resilience.
Bondi Beach may be 9,800 miles away from my current home — effectively on the opposite side of the world — but it will also be here for me. It’s become my home away from home, and a place for joyful reunions that defy all odds. And it would never have been possible if Australia had not opened its arms to my extended family.
The post Australia welcomed my family’s Holocaust survivors — and Bondi Beach soon became a symbol of renewal for me appeared first on The Forward.
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Yiddish has a long list of words for ‘cemetery‘
נישט אַלע ווייסן אַז אויף ייִדיש איז דאָ אַ גאַנצער וואָקאַבולאַר וועגן דעם, וווּ מע לייגט ייִדן נאָכן טויט.
וואָס טוט מען טאַקע מיט אַ מת? מע באַגראָבט אים אָדער מע באַהאַלט אים, אָדער מע איז אים מקבר, אָדער מע ברענגט אים צו קבֿר־ישׂראל. „באַגראָבן“ האָט דאָך אויך אַ פֿאַרשפּרייטן מעטאַפֿאָרישן טײַטש, „רויִנירן“. אָט איז דאָ אַ ווערטערשפּיל: „שטאַרבן איז נאָך ווי ס’איז, אָבער דאָס אַרײַנלייגן אין דר’ערד, דאָס באַגראָבט אַ מענטשן!“
וועגן דעם אָרט, וווּ ס’ליגן ייִדן נאָכן טויט, איז דאָ אַ לאַנגע רשימה ווערטער, כּמעט אַלע אייפֿעמיזמען. נאָך די הונדערט יאָר ליגן ייִדן און ייִדישע טעכטער, קודם־כּל, אויף אַ בית־עולם. אויף לשון־קודש איז „עולם“, פֿאַרשטייט זיך, טײַטש „וועלט“ און אויף ייִדיש — „אַ גרופּע מענטשן“; אָבער אויף לשון־קודש האָט „עולם“ נאָך אַ טײַטש, „אייביקייט“. איז אַ בית־עולם דאָס אָרט, וווּ מע בלײַבט אויף אייביק. דאָס אייגענע איז שייך צום אַרמיש־שטאַמיקע „בית־עלמין“.
אַ פֿאַל פֿון לשון סגי־נהור, דאָס הייסט וווּ מע זאָגט איין זאַך אָבער מע מיינט דאָס פֿאַרקערטע, איז „בית־חיים“, טײַטש „דאָס הויז פֿון לעבן“. אַן אַנדער וואָרט, נישט קיין אייפֿעמיזם, איז „בית־הקבֿרות“, דאָס הייסט, דאָרטן, וווּ ס’געפֿינען זיך קבֿרים.
אָבער נישט אַלע ווערטער נעמען זיך פֿון לשון־קודש. מע זאָגט דאָך אויך „דאָס פֿעלד“, „דאָס גוטע־אָרט“, „דאָס הייליקע אָרט“, „דאָס ריינע אָרט“. אַ טשיקאַווער משל דערפֿון: איך בין אַ מאָל געפֿאָרן אין דער שטאָט גער, נישט ווײַט פֿון וואַרשע, וואָס ביזן חורבן איז זי געווען דער זיץ פֿונעם באַקאַנטן גערער רבין. אין 2007 זענען אין דער שטאָט געבליבן גאַנצע דרײַ ייִדן, האָב איך געהאַט די זכיה זיך צו באַקענען, און צו כאַפּן אַ ייִדישן שמועס, מיט צוויי. (וויפֿל מאָל אין לעבן איז מיר אויסגעקומען צו שמועסן אויף ייִדיש מיט אַ ייִד, וואָס האָט איבערגעלעבט דעם חורבן און וווינט נאָך אין זײַן מיזרח־אייראָפּעיִשער היימשטאָט?)
איינער פֿון זיי, וועלוול קאַרפּמאַן, האָט מיט אַ פּאָר יאָר שפּעטער געגעבן אַן אינטערוויו דער ייִדישער ראַדיאָ־אוידיציע פֿונעם פּוילישן ראַדיאָ (צום באַדויערן, האָט מען די ראַדיאָ־אוידיציע דערנאָכדעם אָפּגעשאַפֿט). ווען די זשורנאַליסטקע האָט אים אַ פֿרעג געטאָן וועגן דעם גורל פֿונעם גערער בית־עולם, האָט ער זי איבערגעפֿרעגט: „איר מיינט ס’גוטע־אָרט?“ יעדעס מאָל, וואָס זי האָט ווײַטער געזאָגט „בית־עולם“, האָט ער געענטפֿערט „ס’גוטע־אָרט“.
אויך בײַ די אומות־העולם זענען די ווערטער דערפֿאַר אייפֿעמיזמען. דאָס פֿאַרשפּרייטסטע וואָרט אין אייראָפּע איז ס’ענגלישע cemetery, ס’פֿראַנצייזישע cimetière אד”גל, פֿון אַן אַלטגריכישן ווערב פֿאַר „ליגן/לייגן שלאָפֿן“. גאָר אַ מאָל, פֿאַר דער הײַנטיקער צײַט־רעכענונג, איז ס’גריכישע וואָרט געווען טײַטש „שלאָפֿשטוב“; בײַ די קריסטן בשעתּו האָט עס באַקומען דעם מאָדערנעם טײַטש. אַ ווײַטער קרובֿ פֿון דעם וואָרט איז ס’ייִדישע „היים“, אַ פּנים, ווײַל אין דער היים שלאָפֿט מען, אָבער נישט פּונקט אַזוי ווי אויפֿן בית־עולם…
דאָס דײַטשישע Friedhof איז דער „שלום־הויף“; און Kirchhof „קלויסטערהויף“ איז מגולגל געוואָרן אינעם פּוילישן Kirkut „ייִדישער בית־עולם“!
און אַזוי ווי מאַמע־לשון האָט פּאַראַלעלע וואָקאַבולאַרן פֿאַר ייִדן און פֿאַר קריסטן איז גאָר קיין חידוש נישט, וואָס אויפֿן אָרט, וווּ ס’ליגן קריסטן זאָגט מען „צווינטער“ אָדער „צמענטער“, מסתּמא, פֿון פּוילישן cmentarz פֿונעם זעלביקן גריכישן שורש וואָס cemetery.
The post Yiddish has a long list of words for ‘cemetery‘ appeared first on The Forward.
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IHOP denies inviting Florida GOP candidate who said ‘Americans shouldn’t die for Israel’
(JTA) — James Fishback, the fringe GOP candidate courting the online far right in his long-shot bid for governor of Florida, had a bit of food-service drama this week — and it wasn’t about the “goyslop” he previously claimed was being served in the state’s school cafeterias.
Waffle House, he alleged, had banned him from every restaurant in the state after he announced his intent to campaign at the chain’s Florida locations. The reason, he claimed, was because he said that “Americans shouldn’t die for Israel.”
But not to worry, Fishback quickly announced: Another breakfast chain, International House of Pancakes, had extended an invitation to him personally.
“Hey, wanna come over?” reads a direct message Fishback posted to social media, a photo of which appears to come from IHOP’s official corporate account. An elated Fishback soon posted photos from a campaign stop at an IHOP, which he deemed “International House of Patriots.”
Not so, an IHOP spokesperson told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
“Since our founding, IHOP and its franchisees have been committed to providing warm and welcoming dining experiences for all guests. We are not working with James Fishback or his campaign in any capacity,” the spokesperson told JTA in an email. “Additionally, we have confirmed that the image circulating on social media is not authentic.”
Fishback did not return a request for comment by JTA about IHOP’s claim. The former investment banker has used terms on the campaign trail considered dogwhistles to the online far right and boasts a large online profile that has included interviews with Tucker Carlson and antisemitic podcaster Myron Gaines. He has also praised the followers of antisemitic streamer Nick Fuentes.
Asked by JTA why he had made his earlier “goyslop” comments, Fishback replied, “Because it’s funny. Get a life.”
He then posted the exchange to his X account under the caption, “Journalists are insufferable.”
Earlier in the same conversation, asked about recently revealed racist and antisemitic messages from a Florida Young Republicans regional group chat, Fishback replied, “I condemn all forms of hatred.”
The post IHOP denies inviting Florida GOP candidate who said ‘Americans shouldn’t die for Israel’ appeared first on The Forward.
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Iran Names Khamenei’s Hardline Son Mojtaba as New Supreme Leader
FILE PHOTO: Mojtaba Khamenei, the second son of Iran’s late Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, visits Hezbollah’s office in Tehran, Iran, October 1, 2024. Office of the Iranian Supreme Leader/WANA (West Asia News Agency)/Handout via REUTERS/File Photo
Iran on Monday named Mojtaba Khamenei to succeed his father Ali Khamenei as Supreme Leader, signaling that hardliners remain firmly in charge in Tehran a week into its conflict with the United States and Israel.
Mojtaba, a mid-ranking cleric with influence inside Iran’s security forces and vast business networks under his father, had been seen as a frontrunner in the lead up to the vote by the assembly, a body of 88 clerics charged with choosing the new leader after Ali Khamenei.
“By a decisive vote, the Assembly of Experts, appointed Ayatollah Seyyed Mojtaba Hosseini Khamenei as the third Leader of the sacred system of the Islamic Republic of Iran,” the assembly said in a statement issued just after midnight Tehran time.
The position gives Mojtaba the final say in all matters of state in the Islamic Republic.
Mojtaba’s appointment will likely draw the ire of US President Donald Trump, who said on Sunday that Washington should have a say in the selection. “If he doesn’t get approval from us, he’s not going to last long,” he told ABC News. Israel, ahead of the announcement, threatened to target whoever was chosen.
Mojtaba’s father, Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, was killed in one of the first strikes launched against Iran more than a week ago.
The US military on Sunday reported a seventh American has died from wounds sustained during Iran’s initial counter-attack a week ago, a day after Trump presided over the return to the United States of the remains of the six others who died.
The US-Israeli attacks have killed at least 1,332 Iranian civilians and wounded thousands, according to Iran’s U.N. ambassador.
As Trump pressed for an “unconditional surrender,” Mohammad Bagher Qalibaf, Iran’s parliament speaker, said Tehran was not seeking a ceasefire to the war and would punish aggressors.
Israel continued to target senior Iranian figures, including Abolqasem Babaian, the recently appointed head of the military office of the supreme leader, saying he was killed in a Saturday strike.
BLACK SMOKE HANGS OVER TEHRAN
As fighting escalated on day nine of the US-Israeli campaign against Iran, thick black smoke hung over Tehran on Sunday, residents said, after strikes on oil storage facilities had lit up the night sky with plumes of orange flame.
Iran’s foreign ministry spokesperson Esmaeil Baghaei said the large-scale attack marked a “dangerous new phase” of the conflict and amounted to a war crime.
“By targeting fuel depots, the aggressors are releasing hazardous materials and toxic substances into the air,” he wrote on X.
Israeli military spokesman Lieutenant Colonel Nadav Shoshani told reporters the depots were used to fuel Iran’s war effort, including producing or storing propellant for ballistic missiles. “They are a legal military target,” he said.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said his government would press on with the assault and strike Iran’s rulers “without mercy.”
“We have an organized plan with many surprises to destabilize the regime and enable change,” he said in a video statement.
US special envoy Steve Witkoff and Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner will visit Israel on Tuesday, according to Axios, citing a senior US official.
Trump told reporters on Air Force One that he was not seeking negotiations to end the conflict, which has driven up global energy prices, disrupted business and snarled air travel.
“At some point, I don’t think there will be anybody left maybe to say, ‘We surrender,’” he said.