By Aizik Rosnfeld
I moved to N.Y. when I was only eleven and although it was hard, things became easier thanks to Nosson. From the very first time I met him he always tried made me feel at home. He never made things into a big deal and discretely helped me so that I shouldn’t feel like I was being pitied.
One Sunday, Nosson invited me to go to an art place where we got ceramic pushkas to paint. As part of the project, the pushkas had to be put into an oven to dry. For some reason my pushka cracked while it was in the oven. I was upset but I was told that I can come by the next day to pick up another pushka. I knew I wouldn’t be able to, and seeing that everyone else had a pushka made me really disappointed.
Being the incredibly sensitive person that he was, Nosson realized that I felt out of place and he gave me his very own football shaped pushka. I’m not sure why I chose to take it, but Nosson….I still have your pushka!!!