A Common Thread

by Hannah Shippas for Fresh Ink for Teens

Sewing binds me to my great-grandmother and my family’s heritage.

Sewing is a big part of my life. Like my Jewish heritage, it’s who I am and what makes me, me. I’m a senior in high school and ever since I was in elementary school, I have been fascinated by crafts like sewing. Sewing has been passed down on my mother’s side, the same way as Judaism. Not only has the hobby been passed down, but so has a machine: my great-grandmother’s sewing machine. My great-grandma used the machine to make clothes when she came to America before the Holocaust. It doesn’t run on electricity, but instead has a foot pedal to manually move the needle up and down. Since the machine has meant so much to our family, we haven’t sold it. In a way, the machine connects me to my family’s past and to my Jewish heritage. I consider the machine to be a part of our identity, justifying my love for sewing.

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Does Security Trump Civil Liberties?

by: Bailey Frohlich for Fresh Ink for Teens

Teens respond to Donald Trump’s call to deny Muslims entry into the United States.

We are blessed to live in the United States in the 21st century. Our Founding Fathers fought a Revolutionary War to secure our life, liberty and pursuit of happiness — inalienable rights afforded to us by our Bill of Rights.

One of these rights is freedom of religion, a freedom which has shaped America from its inception when the pilgrims fled religious persecution and arrived 400 years ago.

When Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump made seemingly anti-Muslim comments in early December he naturally caused immense controversy. In a statement posted December 7, 2015 on his campaign website, Trump called for a “total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States… until we are able to determine and understand this problem and the dangerous threat it poses.”

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Song Of Life

by Lauren Ishay for Fresh Ink for Teens

Memories from childhood formed the teenager I am today.

Childhood came, only to so quickly disappear
Time rolled unremittingly on, with each passing year
But my time of youth, always remembered oh so well
And in the remembering there is a story to tell

My days of being young were mostly happy and carefree
Blissfully ignorant of life, were my friends and me
From chasing butterflies and picking flowers at 3 years old
To a trip to the doctor discovering my first cold

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Jewish Handiwork

by: Noa Rubin for Fresh Ink for Teens

The hands of many people shaped the person I am today.

Using a silver cup I pour water on my hands, once on my right, then on my left, three times. I watch the water rush down my hands and into the sink. Al netilat yadayim (on the washing of hands) — I reflect on my gratitude for the commandment to wash my hands as preparation for holy actions. I am ready.

My Jewish identity consists of many disjointed facets. Seeking commonality in my memories, I found one recurring image: hands. The people who appear in my memories used their hands to sanctify mine. The memory of my dad’s hands on the car’s steering wheel, fighting traffic to get me to school, brought dedication to me as a learner. The memory of my grandparents hosting Shabbat dinners for my cousins and me almost every week. Their hands set the table and cooked beautiful meals — a meaningful, intergenerational practice — and therefore, tradition matters to me.

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