In first person… Zayde recalls life in Poland

I remember my zayde, who was almost blind. My job was to hold his hand and take him to the synagogue. He knew the Bible by heart and my obligation was to sit down with him every day so that I could learn the Talmud.

As a child, my mind was someplace else. I wanted to run around and play ball with my friends, so I always tried to skip a few lines. Every time I tried, my zayde caught me. "Oh no, go back, you skipped a line." He knew I was trying to cheat.

Having survived the Holocaust, I feel especially blessed that now I am a grandpa -- a zayde myself. I took great pride and pleasure to listen to the words of the haftarah at our granddaughter Megan's bat mitzvah. It seems like only yesterday when I carried her as a baby on my shoulders. My grandson Michael is 10 years old and I pray to God that I may be able to listen to the haftarah at his bar mitzvah.

Looking back at when I used to read to my zayde, I think about the times I read to my grandchildren as they were growing up. Of course, today's grandparents are different. In addition to studying the Torah, I read Dr. Seuss and books about dinosaurs to them. Despite these differences, the blessing of being a grandparent is the same across all generations.