L’Dor V’Dor…what exactly does it mean? I don’t think any of us really realize that live conversations are what this sentiment is all about. I don’t think we realize how important it is until the source of the information is gone. 

My grandmother was my hero, my person, the one I connected with the most, but unfortunately I never got the chance to sit down with her and ask about her Jewish upbringing and the importance of Judaism in her life. She passed away on November 6, 2025 and I regret everyday not having those important Judaic conversations with her. But we can’t live in the past and have to go forward, so now I have the memories and stories of her upbringing from my great-uncle and my grandfather.

My grandmother grew up in an Orthodox household. It looked like your typical 1940s Jewish household in Cleveland, Ohio. My great-grandfather owned a meat shop, my great-grandmother stayed at home, and my grandmother and great-uncle were inseparable—a built-in best friend. 

Growing up they would sneak around. They would go out and try ham sandwiches, pork, and other non-kosher foods that would have infuriated their parents. But despite the mischief, the traditions are what lived on from generation to generation, from weekly Shabbat dinners to cooking for the high holidays. My great-grandfather would daven every morning and would put on tefillin. When my mother was little, she came downstairs in their house one morning and was worried about what was growing on my great-grandfather’s head!

The meat shop that my great-grandfather owned was passed down to my great-uncle. Now it’s not kosher anymore, and serves Cleveland residents beyond the Jewish community. Mr. Brisket, a Cleveland staple, was born from this transfer. 

I know I’m lucky to have known my great-grandmother, my grandmother’s mother, and still have my great-uncle around to ask these questions and learn these stories about growing up Jewish in the 1940s and 50s. One story that struck me is that at my grandparents’ wedding, my grandmother needed permission from her parents to get married to my grandfather. She was only twenty at the time, and was still considered a minor in terms of marriage; twenty-one was the age of majority at the time. This story made my grandmother’s era feel very different from mine.

My grandfather did not grow up in a kosher or Orthodox home. A lot of his Jewish stories start after he got married to my grandmother. A veteran who served during the Korean War, he talks about bringing my grandmother overseas and how they continued their Jewish traditions of Shabbat and familiar foods, to keep them connected to family back home. They shipped their car back and forth from the States to where he was stationed. These small choices helped them feel connected to home.

When they returned to Cleveland after the war, they raised their children Jewish, just like my grandmother had been raised. My mom, aunt, and uncle did not grow up in a kosher or Orthodox home, though. They still kept traditions of high holidays and always stayed connected to their childhood roots, where their Jewish upbringing and traditions started.

These stories are what keep me connected to my family. These traditions are what keep me connected to my family and my heritage. L’Dor V’Dor, from generation to generation. Even though we may not have our family members in the physical world, we have their stories. We have to cherish the life they’ve lived, and cherish those we have left with us who knew our family and ancestors well. 

This moment has made me realize the importance of having everything documented—whether that be on paper, online, or in a voice recording. These stories can’t disappear; they’re what keep us all connected to our family members after they go. I didn’t spend as much time with my grandmother as I would have liked to, getting her Jewish background or discovering how important it was to her as a child, but I’m making up for lost time and learning all the stories I never got to hear from the source. 

All in all, without a Jewish upbringing from my parents, who in turn received it from their parents, L’Dor V’Dor wouldn’t even exist. Our loved ones may be gone, but they leave behind the memories, customs, traditions, and stories that we all should cherish.

In Loving Memory of Phyllis Wapnick (July 22, 1933 – November 6, 2025)