I choose my family’s candlesticks. My great great grandparents brought them from Russia when they fled. My great great grandparents were fleeing Russia, because as Jews, they were being persecuted for their beliefs, and every day there were pogroms going on in the houses around them. So they fled, and were only able to pack a few things, but they still packed their beloved silver candlesticks. They were smuggled into a hay cart that was brought to the border of Russia, and were soon on a boat heading to America. There, they had my great-grandma, who had my grandfather, who had my mother, who had me. My great-great grandparents handed the candlesticks down to my great-grandmother, Isabel, who I was named after, then to my grandma, and then to my mother. When my grandma still had them, I remember going to her house for some big Jewish holiday, and helping her polish the candles. She handled them with such care, and together we polished every last bit of those candlesticks until they shone. Now that my mother has them, we keep them in a nice glass cabinet, so everyone can see them. And once I have my own family, these candlesticks will be handed down to me.

– Isa Grumbach-Bloom

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