When I was a young child growing up in an orthodox family of ten, everything I wanted was out of my reach, including the food I wanted to eat. I was the youngest of four sisters and we all wore donated clothes delivered in paper bags. My five brothers managed with whatever they could find. Kids in school made fun of my clothes, which were dresses that had lost a life and death struggle with Clorox. I slept in a bed with two of my sisters. On a cold night, my mother threw in another sister. The house was crowded, so what did my Mama do? She took in boarders. We needed the money.
I started working when I was six. I ran errands for a woman who worked next door and for that, she gave me a dime. In later years, I babysat, worked summers in a factory, was a secretary in a real estate office and eventually became a professional singer. That’s when I began to earn some real money, most of which I had to contribute to the house.
My husband’s father died when he was just nine months old. He and his mother and brother went on relief, which is like welfare. His mother was not allowed to have anything of value except her marriage band. Life was grim and lacking any luxuries — no skates, no bikes, just a Spalding ball to pay with in the gutter.
In later years, when we married and he became a successful handbag manufacturer and I was a New York Times best-selling author, we would reminisce about the old days when life was tough and the future seemed bleak. But, we never forgot those days, so when we voted, we voted to benefit the less fortunate.
Many people we knew would vote for their pocketbooks, giving their support to the candidate who would not raise their taxes, but we didn’t do that. Both my husband and I helped people in need and never forgot our beginnings. I wonder about folks who dismiss yesterday as though it never happened to them and have little concern about the suffering of others who have not managed to climb out of their difficult beginnings.
I think, in America, if you get an education, work hard and keep your mind on your goals, you can be successful. But don’t let success go to your head. Instead, let it go to your heart.
I mostly give to Jewish charities, but St. Jude and the Shriners are on my list as well. St. Jude helps children with disabilities and never presents their parents with a bill. The Shriners do amazing work helping families in need. Of course, I must mention Hadassah Medical Center in Israel who not only help fellow Jews, but never turn away Christians and Arabs who require medical care, and the Jewish National Fund, who asks for donations to plant trees in Israel in honor of those we lost on Oct. 7, 2023. My favorite charity to give to is Magen David Adom (MDA), Israel’s national emergency medical, ambulance, and blood service.
So it comes down to this: Whatever your beginnings, and wherever you are now in life, a cup of kindness for your fellow man is always a mitzvah. Choose the appeals for money that you can handle and never forget how difficult it was for you when having bread and butter on the table was a luxury. Those memories make you the person you are today: A caring, responsive, decent person we call a mensch. One who doesn’t turn away when the need is there. In helping others, you express your gratitude to America and to your Jewish heritage.
So now, when you go to your mailbox, which is likely loaded with appeals for contributions, don’t just throw the letters in the trash. Think back to a time when you needed help and it was forthcoming, or if it wasn’t, didn’t you wish that someone would have cared? I care, my husband cared, and I really believe that you care, too. The past is prologue, so don’t forget the difficult times and be there to help someone in need. I promise your life will be richer for it.
Judith Levy is the New York Times best-selling author of “Grandmother Remembers,” which has sold 4 million copies to date. Her newest illustrated book, “Great-Grandmother Remembers” is available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
