Had the family ridden the Trans-Siberian railroad for nearly two weeks, with valuables sewn into my mother’ s coat, and arrived safely in Japan, that, too, would not have been enough.
Had the family found refuge in Shanghai, China, arriving on New Year’ s Day in 1942, after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and grew concerned about the presence of so many foreigners in their midst, that, too, would not have been enough.
Had the Mir Yeshiva been based in Shanghai, and issued the family visas to the United States in 1948, because my grandfather( a secular Jew to his core) always figured out how to benefit from connections and“ working the system”, that, too, would not have been enough.
Had a cousin in Chicago taken them in, and my grandfather found that Chicago was too small for him, and the family therefore moved to New York, that, too, would not have been enough.
None of these was enough by itself, but all of them put together – whether by assistance from others, by luck, or maybe even by Divine assistance – were enough. My grandfather lived in his adopted city of New York for 58 years, reached the age of 100, knew his grandchildren well, and lived to see grandchildren and greatgrandchildren( though he outlived my grandmother and my mother).
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