#Saba is Hebrew for grandfather

[covington-shenanigans]

uhhhh hey tumblr

guess what happened to me yesterday

if you said "did one of your kids get you a new mug that you've never had a reason to need before" you're correct

[wonderlandsakura]

DANI AND DAN'S PARENTS AND WHAT THEY CALL THEM

Danny: Dad, Father (mostly Dan)

Vlad: Papa, Папочка (Papachka) (Dad but Russian, originally to spite Vlad cause he wanted to be called father, became a softer heritage sharing thing)

Tucker: Baba, اب (Ab) (it's dad in Arabic)

Sam: Mom, Mama, אמא (Ema) (mom/mama in Hebrew)

---

Bonus Grandparents:

Jack: Gramps, Granddad

Maddie: Grandma, Grandmom

Sam's Father: Saba (grandfather in Hebrew)

Sam's Mother: Savta (grandmother in Hebrew)

Sam's Grandma: Great Grandma Ida

Tucker's Dad: Gramps, Grandpa

Tucker's Mom: Gran Gran, Nan

Clockwork: Clockpops, Grandpop, Pop Pop, Grandpappy

Pariah (Optional): Grandfather Dowager the Late Ex-King of the Infinite Realms (Grandfather for short), Grumpy

[whythobro]

So like, is no one gonna talk about the fact that Asha calls Sabino ‘Saba’ which is Hebrew for grandfather meaning either she or some part of her family is Jewish? And I mean when she greets those people at the start of the movie she says ‘hola’, ‘shalom’ and ‘Salam’ that’s Spanish, Hebrew and Arab. Which makes sense since the main religions in the area Rosas is set in is Christianity, Judaism and Islam. And it’s likely Asha could be Jewish.

Are we all just gonna skip over this?

[princess-ibri]

Someone point this out, but it seems like Asha is Jewish, which is really cool.

https://www.tumblr.com/whythobro/738360619603001344/so-like-is-no-one-gonna-talk-about-the-fact-that?source=share

Oh! I didn't know Saba means Grandfather in Hebrew thats super cool! It definitely makes sense she could be from that yeah!

[pickypickypeak]

Adding onto the red string of fate thing, I feel like another thing that needs to be mentioned is that it's an East Asian concept, when Rosas' world clearly takes inspiration from European and Middle Eastern cultures instead (specifically Spanish, Jewish, and Muslim, something which can be seen in both the clothes as well as the languages Asha uses, given its source of inspiration). As far as I know, this doesn't exist in either Judaism or Islam (feel free to correct me if I'm wrong). Yeah, Disney is Disney, but even regardless if Star was meant to be her soulmate in a romantic way or not, tying (no pun intended) the red string of fate into this really doesn't make much sense, at least not from a cultural perspective.

Actually, now that I think about it, the closest thing that comes to mind is how some Jewish customs practice wearing a strand of red wool to ward off misfortune, and since Asha is implied to be Jewish (saba is Hebrew for grandfather), hey, maybe the red yarn does have significance after all! Just not in the way people think!

I didn’t know about this symbolism or its origins and I think it’s very interesting, what you added about red wool being used in Jewish customs also perfectly fits! Cool!

I don’t know where that person read about that concept being used in wish, but I wanna believe they actually read it somewhere and did not just come up with it on the spot, because otherwise, I could take a random symbolism from any culture and just say “this wasn’t done properly in wish which proves they should have kept starboy and make them kiss”. Also that backfired because the concept still works in their own words, the string can very much still symbolize fate and love. Their post sounded more like “I personally wanted this to be a love story but I’m trying to cover it up with a random deep unrelated symbolism that I’m telling people was meant to be in the movie”.

BUT I’m choosing to believe they read it somewhere else. Maybe it’s on the art book?

[mynameisgoliath]

Kwa kwa de la oma in Hebrew. There are a few versions but my favorite was the 'religious' one:

Hakwa kwa shel ha dosim [the religious people's kwa kwa]

kwa kwa kwa kwa kwa

esti matriko [Estie matriko]

saba shkha tzadiko [your grandfather is a rightous person]

ima shkha yesod olam [your mother is the foundation of the world]

v'ata talmid khakham [and you are a smart tora learner]

v'lo v'ken [and yes and no]

v'hadarta pnei zaken [and you honoured the elderly]

[a sentence from the tora that is used for counting]

*everything here is very slangy except for what is phrases from the tora

The more usual one is:

Kwa kwa de la oma

kwa kwa kwa kwa kwa kwa

esti matriko

aba shkha kofiko [your father is curious george]

ima shkha hipopotam [your mother is a hippopotamus]

v'ata khamor katan [and you are a small donkey]

v'lo v'ken

tzolea v'misken [limping and pitiful]

[count to ten]

*Not actually Curious George but a similar Israeli character

One of my favorite things is learning what words people used for this hand game—where you sit in a circle with your hands facing up, right hand on top of your neighbor's, left hand below your other neighbor's, and you sequentially go around slapping right hand into left— where they lived when they were kids. The regional variations are the best. It's in Wikipedia as "Stella Ella Ola," but for me (and many NE USAmericans) it's "Quack Diddly Oso."

The way these games are taught to younger kids by older kids and spread throughout regions is so fascinating; I want a visualization where you can see what happens when one random kid 50 years ago moved to a different state. I have no idea how widespread this game is, but I think it's all across the US and Canada, at a minimum. I haven't seen my kids play this—is it still a thing?

In my school in the 90s, it went like this—

Quack diddly oso, 
Quack, quack, quack, 
Señorita, 
Rita, rita, rita, 
Velour, velour, 
Velour, velour, velour, velour, 
1, 2, 3, 4!

I especially appreciate the versions that include “your mother smells like pizza,” “the toilet over fulled,” and “the cat peed on the floor,” “potatoes on the floor-a”

What about you? Anyone play it outside of North America?

[badass-women-league]

-TIVALI-

1- The reunion

"When will I see Ima ?"

The little girl was holding flowers in her hands. She was hopping up and down with impatience. Tony looked at his watch and said:

-"come on Tali be patient, I've already told you she's gonna get out from there" he pointed at the arrival terminal doors. He whispered "you inherited that impatience from your mom for sure"

Tony could not blame his daughter, he was as impatient as she was. He hasn't been in contact with Ziva for month and he haven't seen her for years. YEARS! Away from the woman he loves, the mother of his child and on top of that she had been in danger all this time. She could have died and he would probably not have been aware of it. Raising Tali on his own hasn't been easy. He was worried about their reunion. Worried that things would be different between them. After such a long time away from each other it would be normal. Tony had changed and Ziva had too. Tony knew they would have to get to know each other again. But he was still Tony, he still loved food, movies and he was still the class clown who makes fun of everything. So maybe there was a chance that Ziva was still the same after all: the sexy, strong and independent ninja that he fell in love with.

The door of the terminal opened and passengers walked out. Tali and Tony were looking for Ziva's face. Tony was getting worried. What if she had not taken that plane at the last minute ? It was irrational, she would have told him. Finally she walked through the doors. Tali yield "IMA!" And rushed to Ziva with her flowers in her hands.

Ziva heart stopped when she saw the little girl. She crouched to hug her daughter. Tony walked to them. Ziva took Tali's face on her hand to take a better look at it. She was so big, so beautiful. She was crying tears of joy. She unconsciously started speaking in hebrew. It was always happening when she was upset or like right now, overwhelmed by her emotions. She switched back to english: ⁣

-"my baby! oh my god Tali, look at you, you are so big now"

-"we missed you Ima"

Ziva hugged Tali again and sobbed:

-"I missed you too Tali"

-"look these are for you ! Aba said you like flowers... I choose them myself"

Ziva took the flowers and kissed her daughter's forehead.

-"thank you Tali, they are very beautiful" she glanced at Tony and said "Aba remembered my favorite flowers"

Tony proudly smiled.

After a long hug to her child, she looked up at Tony. He was smiling to her, happy to see that the strong bond between Tali and her mother hasn't been broken after such a long time. She stood up, keeping Tali close to her. The little girl was looking up at her parents. Tony and Ziva were shyly smiling to each other. Ziva was still scared that things could be awkward between them. Tony talked first with his usual charming grin:

-"hi..."

Ziva smiled and tilted her head on the right side:

-"hi..."

Tony smiled too and cupped her face before kissing her softly. When Tali saw this, she immediately shouted a long: "ugh!!!!!!!!" in disgust. Her expression made Tony and Ziva smile and laugh. It was the first time that Tali was seeing her father kissing someone and she was pretty disgusted. Tony was still holding Ziva's face. He looked at Tali and then deeply at Ziva and said:

-"you gonna have to get used to this Tali, because it's gonna happen again.. a lot"

Ziva smiled and kissed Tony.

After a long minute of kissing Tony whispered:

-"come on let's go home"

Ziva was finally home. It doesn't matter if it was in D.C or Paris, her home was where Tony and Tali were.

Tony opened the door of his apartment and stepped aside to let Tali and Ziva in. He smiled and said:

-"welcome home"

Ziva stepped inside and took a deep breathe. She looked around her. It was bright and beautiful. It was the perfect mix between modern and old design. She walked through the room and stopped in front of framed pictures. Mostly pictures of Tali. Some with Tony, some with Senior. Tali's first day of school. Tali's first time at the zoo, Tali's 4th birthday. She was looking so happy. Ziva's heart was broken by the idea that she missed all those crucial moments of her daughter life but at least she was strengthened by the idea that she had the best reason for that. She had protected her.

Ziva looked surprised when she noticed a picture of her between Tali's. The picture of her that Tony took on their first trip to Paris. Tony's favorite one "because she was smiling", as he said years ago. Tony stepped closer and said:

-"you said it would look better in black and white, so I got it reprinted that way.. it's still my favorite"

Ziva fought the tears growing in her eyes. Tony turned to Tali:

-"why don't you show your bedroom to Ima ?"

Tali looked excited and she grabbed her mother's hand to lead her to her bedroom.

When Tony walked to Tali's bedroom 15 minutes later, Ziva was sitting on Tali's bed. She could not take her eyes away from her daughter. Tali was very chatty. She was showing Ziva all sorts of things: toys, clothes, drawing she had made for her. Tony leaned on the door frame to look at them. A tear rolled down Ziva's cheek. A tear of joy and regrets at the same time. Tali saw it and stopped talking. She was confused. She walked to Ziva, touched her mother's face with confused eyes and asked:

-"are you hurt Ima ?"

Ziva smiled and kissed Tali's tiny hands. She wiped her tears away and said:

-"I am fine Tali. I am just very happy to see you"

-"why are you crying ?"

Ziva pulled Tali closer to her and said:

-"because when I left you and Aba, you were just a baby and now you are a beautiful girl. Sometimes grown ups cry when they are happy. It's stupid I know but it's like that"

Tali laid her eyes on Ziva's necklace. She grabbed it with her little fingers. Ziva was struck by her memories of when Tali used to touch it when she was a baby.

She looked at Tali's neck and noticed her Star of David necklace. She took it between her finger and said:

-"see, I have yours and you have mine. As long as we wear them, we'll be together, no matter where we are"

Dinner time. Tony, Tali and Ziva were all gathered around the dinner table. Tali was talking about her school and her friends. Tony discreetly turned to Ziva and asked:

-"Was I that talkative too back at NCIS ?"

Ziva smiled:

-"you were worse than that. She definitely inherited that from you"

Tony looked resigned and said:

-"she got my talkativeness and your bad temper..."

Ziva faked to be offended:

-"My bad temper ? What bad temper ?"

Tony turned to Tali and said:

-"oh I see that miss Dinozzo forgot to mention what she did to young Jeremy last week didn't she ?"

Tali shyly smiled, as a child who knew she had done  something wrong. Ziva looked confused and asked:

-"What did you do Tali ?"

-"I punched him in the face..."

She was obviously not very proud of her action and certainly got lectured for her behavior by her father. Ziva looked at Tony with confused eyes and Tony asked:

-"and why did you punched that poor Jeremy ?"

Tali answered quietly:

-"Because he said he wanted me to be his girlfriend"

Ziva closed her eyes and bit her tongue to control herself but she really wanted to laugh which would have been very wrong for Tali's education.

Tony whispered:

-"does that remind you of someone ?"

Ziva could not disagree.

-"alright alright.. maybe she got that from me..."

They both laughed. Tony turned to Tali and said:

-"alright Kung fu panda! It's time to go brush your teeth and go to bed, go on"

Ziva was clearing the dinner table. Tony looked at her and said:

-"don't worry about this I'll deal with that later"

He knew she was trying to keep herself busy. He walked to her and grabbed her wrist to stop her. She made eye contact with him. A long and deep one. Tony looked at her wrist and saw the scar from Paraguay on it. He quietly said:

-"I know you need some time but you'll find your place Ziva. We're gonna help you, me and Tali" he briefly paused "Gibbs told me about Adam.. I am sorry"

A little voice raised from behind and surprised them:

-"who's Adam ?"

Tony glanced at Ziva and looked sorry for her that she had to deal with that now. He grabbed Tali, sat her on the countertop and said:

-"Adam was a very dear friend of Ima. He took care of you when you were a baby and he helped Ima to get you to me"

-"where is he now ?"

Ziva swallowed hard. Tony chose his words wisely and continued:

-"He is gone but he's still keeping an eye on you and Ima"

Tali was trying to understand:

-"Is he with saba ?"

Ziva was surprised about Tali evoking her grandfather. She never thought that Tony would have mentioned him.

-"yes, yes he is with Saba. They are both looking after you, but now it is late and I am sure that Adam and saba would like you to go to bed"

Tony turned and placed his back in front of the little girl:

-"get on board princess"

The little girl laughed and got on her father's back. He led her to her bed, Ziva following them with a smile.

[verilyruth]

Hi! Why do you used Ima/Aba and Savta/Zayde (in other words Hebrew/Yiddish)?

Good question! I want to say I use Zayde instead of Saba because in my way too complicated series of headcanons, the modern era Jacobs’ grandfather grew up speaking Yiddish, not Hebrew (obviously all of them spoke Yiddish over Hebrew in the canon era), and not Bubbe because she didn’t. In reality, I just wasn’t paying attention and I always use the Hebrew Ima and Aba for Esther and Mayer. But from now on, let’s just pretend it’s the first thing, okay?

[indigowallbreaker]

I sometimes wonder what name I would have if I ever wanted to ditch my birth name for something more masculine. The name Indy appeals to me bc many people on here call me that anyway. But I sort of would want something that starts with my current initial.

Did some playing around on Behind The Name at work just now. Savva or Sabas is growing on me. Savva is the Russian version of Sabas, which is a Hebrew-Spanish name (? I think? BtN was a bit unclear). My grandfather's father was from Russia and came to the US as a young boy. I like how they both sound.

Mostly making this post to remember which names I just looked up and to express this idea of a name change for the first time. I doubt I'd ever go through with it irl but it's nice to think about what other names might suit me.

[randomwritings05]

Mangoes In the Summer

I think sometimes of my childhood, what little I can remember. Of the hot summers and wet winters. Of running through fields and forests. Walking through markets, running to the stalls with air conditioning (which was almost all of them). I recall then a half-forgotten memory, of the day I fell in love with mangoes.

I am suddenly 6 (or maybe 7) again, walking up a steep path in the hills behind my grandparent house. My brother is ahead as I walk beside my grandfather (who I shall now refer to as Saba, as it is the Hebrew way to say it and what he has always been to me). Other family members trail behind us. The hot sun beats down on my hat and Saba offers me a drink of water. I take a few sips before passing the bottle back. We reach a small hill, a tree atop, almost bare of grass but covered in ferns, the ground cracking and dry. There are a few large rocks beside the tree. I sit down on one. Mangoes hang from the branches. I look up at them, eyes squinting against the blaring sun. Saba looks over the fruits, picking a few. He washes the outside with a bit of water. The sun is warm against my skin as a slight breeze ruffles the hair sticking out from beneath my hat. My eyes close and when I open them again, Saba offers me half a mango, sliced and pushed to resemble a hedgehog. I gingerly take it, a bit of juice smearing across my fingers. I take a bite and the sweet taste of nectar erupts in my mouth. My eyes close again. The breeze dances through the tree, the ferns singing with it. The sun is constant, warmth spreading through my body. The slab of rock I sit on digs into my crossed legs but I don’t care. Life is too beautiful to care. The moment stretches for eternity. 

Then I open my eyes and it’s gone. But the sun still heats my skin and the wind still plays with the tree and the rock is firm and solid. The mango is still fresh, the smell enticing my nose and I take another bite. A bit of juice dribbles down my chin. My parents have caught up by then, along with cousins and aunts and uncles. My grandmother (Farmour, as she is Danish) hands me a napkin. I thank her and wipe my chin. She smiles at me. I smile back. Everything is ok. The adults talk of things I don’t care about. I take more bites of the mango. I giggle with my cousins about our games. When we finish, Saba hands me the semi-dried mango seed. I bury it in a patch of loose earth with my brother and my cousins. We pour water over our dusty hands above the spot. As I wipe my hands dry, I think to myself that I never want to leave this moment. But we’ve got more distance to cover, and Farmour has made her famous salmon and I’m tired. 

So we continue walking. I take one last look at the hill and the tree and the rocks. Smile once more at the sun. Then I turn and run after my mum, who’s calling me, the taste of mango burned into my mouth.

[diamondartistvpweb]

Queens of Ethiopia

African women of antiquity were legendary for their beauty and power. Especially great were the Queens of Ethiopia; Queen of Sheba (960 B.C.), Candace of Meroe and her defeat of Alexander the Great (332 B.C.), Amanirenas, Amanishakhete, Nawidemak, Amanitore (Acts 8:26-40), Shanakdakh, and Malegereabar.

Queen of Sheba

The Candaces of Meroe (332 BC- 12 AD)

Candace Amanirenas of Meroe (40-10 BC)

The Treasures of Nubian Queen Amanishaketo

Nubian Queen Amanitore (1 AD - 20 AD)

Queen Shanakdakhete of Meroe (Nubia)

Nawidemak,

Malegereabar.

Queen of Sheba

Makeda, Queen of Sheba (960 B.C.) (also known as Makeda, Makebah-Tamar, Malikat Saba; Ge’ez: Nigist Saba; Hebrew: מלכת שבא‎; Malkat Shva; Arabic: ملكة سبأ‎)

Makeda is best known as the beautiful, wealthy, and intellectual queen who tested Solomon with riddles, is a somewhat mysterious figure in ancient texts, and little has been verified about her life. Even basic details such as her given name and the exact location of her kingdom remain uncertain. Nevertheless, she has fascinated and inspired African American, Ethiopian, Islamic, and Jewish cultures for nearly three thousand years.

She was a monarch of the ancient kingdom of Sheba and is referred to in Habeshan history, the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament, and the Qur’an. Sheba was an ancient name for Abyssinia, a kingdom on the Red Sea in the vicinity of modern Ethiopia and Yemen.

In Ancient times Ethiopia was also known as Nubia, Kush, Aksum, Abyssinia and Sheba. One thousand years before Christ, Ethiopia was ruled by a line of virgin queens. The one whose story has survived into our time was known as Makeda, “the Queen of Sheba.” Her remarkable tradition was recorded in the Kebra Nagast, or the Book of the Glory of the Kings [of Ethiopia], has been held in the highest esteem and honour throughout the length and breadth of Abyssinia for a thousand years at least, and even to-day it is believed by every educated man in that country to contain the true history of the origin of the Solomonic line of kings in Ethiopia.

The Bible tells us that, during his reign, King Solomon of Israel decided to build a magnificent temple. To announce this endeavor, the king sent forth messengers to various foreign countries to invite merchants from abroad to come to Jerusalem with their caravans so that they might engage in trade there.

At this time, Ethiopia was second only to Egypt in power and fame. Hence, King Solomon was enthralled by Ethiopia’s beautiful people, rich history, deep spiritual tradition and wealth. He was especially interested in engaging in commerce with one of Queen Makeda’s subjects, an important merchant by the name of Tamrin.

She gave the king 120 talents of gold, and of spices very great store and precious stones; there came no more abundance of spices as these which the Queen of Sheba gave to King Solomon.” (Kings 10:10)

The Biblical passage refers to the gifts Makeda presented King Solomon of Israel on her famed journey to visit the Judean monarch. But Makeda’s gifts to Solomon extended beyond material objects; she also gave him a son, Menelik. The boy’s remarkable resemblance to his grandfather prompted Solomon to re-christen Menelik. Solomon later re-named his son after his own father, the legendary King David.

Menelik’s line continued down to the 20th century with the last ruler of Ethiopia the “conquering lion of Judah” & his descendants who have all descended directly from King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba.

New DNA evidence reveals close links between Ethiopia and groups outside of Africa. Some Ethiopians have 40-50 percent of their genomes that match more closely with populations outside of Africa than those within.

Clearly, centuries after her death, the Queen of Sheba still holds sway over the imaginations of people far beyond her time period and her geographical location. Source

"I am black but comely,

O ye daughters of Jerusalem,

As the tents of Kedar,

As the curtains of Solomon,

Look not upon me because I am black

Because the sun hath scorched me."

(Song of Solomon

[poetzproblem]

I know is writer's choice but why pappy? Is not Spanish? Why not saba (Hebrew) or Gramps or Grandpa? I know he don't want to feel old, I think is just a little strange because pappy is like Daddy and I don't think quinn would like that

It’s not Spanish. And Leroy isn’t the Jewish dad. My own grandfather was Grandpap or Pap to me, so I chose a variation of that. 

I imagine it’s the ‘grand’ or ‘gramps’ part that Leroy finds aging and wants to avoid. For the same reason, Shelby will encourage the kidlets to call her Nana.

Since Rachel calls Leroy Dad, Pappy is something distinctive in their family for his granddaughter to call him.   

[303magazine]

  There’s a reason why Alon Shaya named his new Denver restaurant after his grandma or “Safta,” as it’s translated in Hebrew. But it’s not just because of the pretty pink interior or the fact that the menu is partially based on his grandmother’s recipes. Rather, it has to do with respect.

“When you’re around your grandparents, you’re always sitting up a little straighter, not cursing as much,” said Shaya. “So we thought, ‘how do we open restaurants that focus on not only just professionalism but respect and being kind while also making people comfortable?'”

Alon and Emily Shaya. Photos by Brittni Bell Warshaw.

This seems to have influenced everything he and his wife Emily have done in creating Safta. This includes intensely vetting every single employee, to creating an HR position that’s solely focused on “people and culture,” and providing many work amenities restaurant employees aren’t used to, like health benefits, a five-day work week and continued education. 

“We’re going to put them first. Above customers, above the bottom line — everything. Their experience here has to be more important than everything else,” said Shaya. This is a stark difference from the traditional hospitality culture where the customer comes first. But Shaya’s focus on respect makes sense considering less than a year ago, the chef lost everything in his professional life due to a toxic work environment. His old mentor and partner, John Besh, fired him only a month before Besh was accused by 25 women for fostering a culture of sexual harassment at his restaurant group. That company included Shaya’s namesake restaurant — of which he later lost in a legal battle with his mentor.

Shaya now sees this as a blessing. “It was a chance to press the reset button,” he said.  “It [allowed] us to be like, ‘here’s what we know how to do, here’s what we love doing and here’s what would make us the happiest.'” The result was Pomegranate Hospitality, the restaurant group that has now opened a pair of restaurants: Saba (grandfather) in New Orleans and Safta (grandmother) in Denver.

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Safta just opened this past weekend inside the brand new Source Hotel. Located in a hyper-modern building full of angles and concrete, it may seem like a hard spot to recreate something that reminds you of your grandmother. But the rose toned walls paired with blonde wood and white orchids softens the space just enough that you instantly see the connection. Shaya, half-jokingly said it reminds him of a hipster grandmother’s living room. The inviting space feels much more casual than your typical high-end restaurant and in some sense, that’s reflected in the food too.

READ: [PHOTOS] The Source Hotel Opens Market Hall, Restaurants and New Belgium Rooftop Bar

On one side of the menu you’ll find a large selection of hummus, of which Shaya is famous for. It comes topped with an assortment of accouterments like lamb ragu ($18), soft-cooked egg ($14) or blue crab ($24). Paired with the puffed pita bread, this is a must order with any visit to Safta — but don’t skimp on the Salatim (three for $21). Just below the hummus on the menu, you’ll find a collection of small traditional side dishes — ones that remind Shaya the most of his grandparents. Take the Lutenitsa for example. The blend of roasted eggplant, peppers, tomatoes and garlic is actually what Shaya credits as his earliest food memory and why he got into cooking in the first place.

“I was still learning English. I was an immigrant kid from Israel. I was a complete weirdo outcast in school. My parents had gotten divorced a couple years prior… I was all over the place,” said Shaya. “I remember opening the door and the eggplants and peppers hit me and I knew my grandparents were there and I knew that family was together.”

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Beyond the sides — which alone could make for a hearty lunch with enough pita — the small dishes and large plates is where the restaurant really shows off. Try the Kibbeh Nayeh ($22) — a middle eastern lamb tartare served with the flakiest flatbread that resembles more of a puff pastry or the Matzo Ball soup ($14) that’s made with duck instead of chicken. If you’re looking for something big to share, try the pomegranate-braised lamb shank ($42) made with labneh and peaches or the charred cabbage ($22) — one of Shaya’s favorite recipes he adapted from his grandmother. In general, the place is an excellent spot for vegetarians with many dishes coming meat-free but still decadent (the whole roasted cauliflower ($25) is a show stopper).

As for drinks, wines and beer abound and the cocktails aren’t too shabby either. Fans of a classic Sazerac ($13) will find a friend in this rendition, whereas people with an aversion to tequila will be shocked by the mellowness of the Negev ($12). But something feels right about drinking a glass of pink wine at Safta — of which the restaurant has several.

—

With all things Shaya wants to accomplish with Safta in Denver, it all can be seen in the name. The sense of respect, hospitality and comfort are all in hopes that he and his wife do right by their grandparents — and in turn to do right by the people around them. To honor that promise, you’ll see the two faces of both their grandmothers on the wall when you depart.

“[They] are here to look over us and give us advice and wisdom,” said Shaya.

Safta is located at 3330 Brighton Blvd #201, Denver. It is open Wednesday through Sunday from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. and it is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. 

All photography by Brittni Bell Warshaw.

Safta Wants to Redefine Restaurant Workplace Culture There's a reason why Alon Shaya named his new Denver restaurant after his grandma or "Safta," as it's translated in Hebrew.

[israel-jewish-news]

102-Year-Old Survivor Reunites With Newly Discovered Nephew

New Post has been published on http://hamodia.com/2017/11/19/102-year-old-survivor-reunites-newly-discovered-nephew/

102-Year-Old Survivor Reunites With Newly Discovered Nephew

Eliahu Pietruszka (R) embraces his nephew Alexandre Pietruszka as they meet for the first time in Kfar Saba, Israel, on Thursday. (AP Photo/Sebastian Scheiner)

Eliahu Pietruszka shuffled his 102-year-old body through the lobby of his retirement home toward a stranger he had never met and collapsed into him in a teary embrace. Then he kissed both cheeks of his visitor and in a frail, squeaky voice began blurting out greetings in Russian, a language he hadn’t spoken in decades.

Only days earlier, the Holocaust survivor who fled Poland at the beginning of World War II and thought his entire family had perished learned that a younger brother had also survived, and his brother’s son, 66-year-old Alexandre, was flying in from a remote part of Russia to see him.

The emotional meeting was made possible by Israel’s Yad Vashem Holocaust memorial’s comprehensive online database of Holocaust victims, a powerful genealogy tool that has reunited hundreds of long-lost relatives. But given the dwindling number of survivors and their advanced ages, Thursday’s event seemed likely to be among the last of its kind.

“It makes me so happy that at least one remnant remains from my brother, and that is his son,” said Pietruszka, tears welling in his eyes. “After so many years I have been granted the privilege to meet him.”

Pietruszka was 24 when he fled Warsaw in 1939 as World War II erupted, heading to the Soviet Union and leaving behind his parents and twin brothers Volf and Zelig, who were nine years younger. His parents and Zelig were deported from the Warsaw Ghetto and killed in a Nazi death camp, but Volf also managed to escape. The brothers briefly corresponded before Volf was sent by the Russians to a Siberian work camp, where Pietruszka assumed he had died.

“In my heart, I thought he was no longer alive,” Pietruszka said. He married in Russia and, thinking he had no family left, migrated to Israel in 1949 to start a new one.

Then two weeks ago, his grandson, Shakhar Smorodinsky, received an email from a cousin in Canada who was working on her family tree. She said she had uncovered a Yad Vashem page of testimony filled out in 2005 by Volf Pietruszka for his older brother Eliahu, who he thought had died.

Volf, it turned out, had survived and settled in Magnitogorsk, an industrial city in the Ural Mountains. Smorodinsky tracked down an address and reached out to discover that Volf, who had spent his life as a construction worker, had died in 2011 but that Alexandre, his only child, still lived there. After Smorodinsky arranged a brief Skype chat, Alexandre decided to come see the uncle he never knew he had.

Smorodinsky, a 47-year-old professor from Ben-Gurion University in southern Israel, invited The Associated Press to record Thursday evening’s reunion at his grandfather’s retirement home in central Israel.

Upon meeting, the two men clutched each other tightly and chatted in Russian as they examined each other’s similar facial features.

“You are a copy of your father,” said a shaking Pietruszka, who has a hearing aid and gets around in a rolling walker. “I haven’t slept in two nights waiting for you.”

Throughout the meeting, Alexandre swallowed hard to hold back tears, repeatedly shaking his head in disbelief.

“It’s a miracle. I never thought this would happen,” Alexandre, himself a retired construction worker, kept saying.

It did, thanks to the Yad Vasham database of pages of testimony, whose goal is to gather and commemorate the names of all of the estimated 6 million Jewish victims of the Nazi genocide. The Names Recovery Project has been Yad Vashem’s flagship mission in recent years. The memorial’s very name — Yad Vashem, Hebrew for “a memorial and a name” — alludes to its central mission of commemorating the dead as individuals, rather than mere numbers like the Nazis did.

Debbie Berman, a Yad Vashem official at the reunion, said it was incredibly moving to be there for “the end of an era.”

“This is one of the last opportunities that we will have to witness something like this. I feel like we are kind of touching a piece of history,” she said.

For Pietruszka, a retired microbiologist and great-grandfather of ten, it was a fulfilling coda to a long, eventful life.

“I am overjoyed,” he said. “This shows it is never too late. People can always find what they are looking for if they try hard enough. I succeeded.”

[mrmarknewman]

I felt that I couldn’t let him face this journey alone

From my wife’s grandparents’ Manhattan apartment, I could hear the noises of traffic and pedestrians in Central Park seven floors below. The sounds were a refreshing change from the beeping monitors, overhead pages and ringing phones that are the usual backdrop to my work as a physician in a large Philadelphia medical center. Here the only background conversations I heard were those of loved ones in the kitchen, not those of patients’ family members, overheard through flimsy curtains ringing an adjacent bed.

The hospice nurse quietly moved about the apartment. My wife sat close by her grandfather, Werner (whom we called Saba, Hebrew for grandfather), speaking softly with him as he lay there in bed. Our two-year-old son sat nearby, dutifully flipping through a Dr. Seuss book, occasionally drawing my attention to a funny looking fish or tree.

I stood at the foot of Saba’s bed. My instinct, honed by my medical training, was to pull back the sheet to check the pulses in his feet. I wanted to read a chart, throw in an order, see if he needed better pain control.

What was his fluid intake for the day? I wondered, then thought, It must be getting harder for him to breathe.

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