Articles by Amy Hirshberg Lederman


Road trip to paradise

I grew up listening to music on our family’s prized possession, a stereo system nestled deep within a richly oiled mahogany cabinet with two huge speakers that dominated the corners of our living room. Sunday mornings were dedicated to classical music, the afternoons were filled with Broadway musicals and the evenings were a potpourri ranging…


Passover, Me and Bobby McGee

The year was 1968: the Vietnam War was raging, psychedelic music and drugs were “in,” Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated a week before President Johnson signed the  Civil Rights Act and the Beatles released the White Album to mixed reviews. I was about to enter 9th grade and amidst the free love and political…


Jewish roots in nature

On a hot August day in 1959, I sat cramped in the back seat of our Thunderbird among suitcases, pillows and my annoying 13-year-old brother for what seemed like the longest trip of my life. Amid melting crayons, half-eaten sandwiches and bouts of carsickness, I whined for most of the eight hours it took to…


Words of Wisdom NEVER Grow Old

I grew up in a house where words were the currency by which my brother and I gained recognition. Unlike most of our peers, where parental approval was dished out for things like making the varsity team or getting straight A’s, my dad’s highest form of praise came as a result of  the words we…

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