Growing up, my family gathered every Friday night for a simple dinner of chicken, rice, challah and green beans. We said basic Jewish prayers to welcome Shabbat, but this gathering was rooted in family tradition and culture rather than organized religion or faith. My grandparents, who immigrated to the United States at the turn of the 20th century fleeing pogroms in the Russian Empire (we are not sure exactly where), joined us each Friday night until their deaths. This Friday night dinner differentiated us from the other children in our public school near Boston, where Friday night was typically occupied by high school basketball games or other social outings. My grandparents were involved in the Workmen’s Circle in Lynn, Massachusetts following their immigration, but stories of their life under Russian rule, the boat journey to the United States, or their assimilated lives never reached our dinner table. My grandparents themselves did not grow up with Friday night dinners of chicken and rice. Although it is not rooted in generations of family tradition, this weekly dinner connects me to my own upbringing and generations of interpretations of Jewish ritual. Now, my mother sends weekly pictures of the Friday night dinner she prepares for her grandchildren to our family group chat; the tradition continues forwards, even though we cannot trace our specific family lineage backwards. 

– Sarah Stone

Relationship:  Grandchild of im/migrant Grandchild of im/migrant