Gilad Shalit marked his first birthday since being freed from Hamas captivity.
Supermodel Naomi Campbell visited Bethlehem in honor of her birthday.
Forty-five years after his bar mitzvah, Edward L. Moskowitz could not find the photos. They were lost in his garage, in a box, among shelves of such boxes, and were his only remaining evidence of a Shabbat he had shared in the mid-1960s with Marty November, his bar mitzvah partner.
Captured Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit spent his 25th birthday in captivity.
Israeli President Shimon Peres marked his 88th birthday with a full working schedule.
As Israel prepares to celebrate its 62nd birthday, the weather outside is chilly. The climate at home is not wonderful either.
If I wanted to start a minyan, I think the last thing I’d call it would be a “happy minyan.” Seriously, how can you live up to that ideal every week? How can you not get exhausted by the constant pressure to deliver “happy”?
Jewish Home for the Aging resident Al Silver celebrated his 85th birthday with 40 family members and friends on July 19.
Hundreds rallied in Mitzpe Hila on Thursday, to demand the government do more to secure the release of captive Israel Defense Forces soldier Gilad Shalit.
The song was written for Micha Shagrir's documentary film "Mirdaf", during the War of Attrition (1968-1970). It describes the military situation along the Jordan border when PLO raids against Israel, followed by IDF chases after the perpetrators, became a daily routine. The song was first performed by Chava Alberstein, to music by Nahum Haiman (this year's recipient of Israel's Prize) and can be heard on you-tube (search for Mirdaf).
In sharp contrast to the birthdayof Kuntar, next month will witness another birthday celebration closerto my heart: the birthday of our late son, Daniel Pearl, who would have turned 45 on Oct. 10
But by and large, despite those enticing pitches, adulthood turns out to mean acceptance -- of how you played the hand you were dealt, of mortality, of beshert -- even if it sometimes includes flashes of 40-f---ing-8-like fury at the way the world turns out to work.
I have learned that finding peace is more important than being right, but that I can't make peace with someone who doesn't see me, nor they with me if I don't see them.
We celebrate the 232nd birthday of the United States of America on July 4. Between noshing on barbecue and watching fireworks, test how well you know early American history. Circle the right answer for the following questions but read carefully -- some might be a bit tricky.
"Mort Sahl changed the face of comedy. Before his, that face was Marty Allen's."
-- Jack Riley
Dobkin doesn't play bingo, and she doesn't own a television. She occasionally attends a lecture or musical event, but generally, when she isn't working, she is reading, usually The Forward in Yiddish or English or The Jewish Journal. She reads without glasses, except for very small print.
Fortunately, it's perfectly possible to plan a kid-friendly birthday bash without compromising our values, sanity and pocketbook. All it takes is a little panning for gold.
One speaker characterized the Berlin Jewish community as "a piece of the mosaic that makes up our history" and emphasized the importance to the city of today's Jewish community, which numbers approximately 30,000.
It's not every day that I am E-vited to a birthday party promising to feature live ammunition. Excitedly, I E-sponded with a resounding "yes." Paula was throwing a Wild West-themed shindig for her husband Bill's birthday. It was a "BYOF" (Bring Your Own Firearm) affair.
My college friends Jordy and Michelle are throwing a party -- a birthday party for their 1-year-old son. That's right, my former party 'til the break of dawn dormmates are hosting a luau for their little one. This should be good.
I walk into the Hawaiian-themed rager and am overwhelmed. It's like Tot Shabbat with leis. There are a dozen kids playing on the floor. How do my friends even know this many crawlers? Where did they find them? I can only imagine they rented them from the party store along with the tiki bar and folding chairs. And who are all these new mothers?
In a few weeks I'll turn 33 and, sadly, I realize I'm long past being anything "for my age." I'm no longer cute for my age, talented for my age, a good reader for my age. All qualifications and special considerations have long passed. There's nothing I can get away with now because, "After all, your honor, he's only 33."
Five hunks of Hebrew National salami lie side by side in a glass display case at Ben's Kosher Delicatessen in midtown Manhattan. When compared with the crispy corn dogs and enormous latkes, they don't look like much. But the takeout counter guy is relieved he has any salami to sell at all.
For the last several months, a shortage of Hebrew National products has hit kosher restaurants and food distributors across North America, forcing some to fill the gap with other meat products -- ones that don't "answer to a higher authority," as the Hebrew National famous advertisement put it.
The shortage comes at what should be a time of celebration, as Hebrew National, which was founded on Manhattan's Lower East Side, celebrates its 100th birthday.
7 Days In The Arts
It took 50 years, but this New Year's Day a childhood dream and mother's fantasy is about to come true. I was born on Jan. 1, 1953. Dwight D. Eisenhower prepared to assume the presidency, American troops remained in Korea and newspapers heralded mine as Los Angeles County's first recorded birth.
I'll be 54 this weekend. Not for me the modesty of hidden age. I'll take my years, gladly, as I'm given them.
I have been asked by the Hillel Foundation at Dartmouth College to meet with them on the occasion of Israel's 54th birthday. There aren't too many of us still around who were there at its birth, and they would like to hear, from the perspective of a participant, what made it possible for the Jewish state to survive while the Palestinian state, also created by the United Nations, crashed in flames.
There's nothing like completing chemotherapy to spice up a birthday party. Last weekend, 40 of my dearest friends performed a commemorative Havdalah ceremony to mark a really great CT scan and year 53. My "re-birthday" celebration was just the ticket, restorative not only for me but also for the extended community that has seen me through my struggle with lung cancer.
The 60th birthday of Bob Dylan (né Robert Zimmerman) has created a bull market in baby-boomer nostalgia and soul-searching.
Some birthdays are better than others, and number 53 is especially tough for Israel.
"Ima, how old am I today?"
My oldest son's sixth birthday is coming soon. Recently, he has developed a near obsession with calculating exactly how old he is on a daily basis, practically down to the hour. Of course he is hardly unique. From our earliest years, we humans feel the compulsion to mark the passing of time, to define who we are by counting our years and months and days.
The month of January marks three important birthdays.
On Jan. 3, my oldest son, Zack, turned 16.
Exactly 16 years and 90 minutes after his birth, he received his driver's license.
More than 100 guests sat in a sea of round banquet tables in a Studio City hotel, munching on fancy appetizers presented by waiters. A band warmed up. Kids crowded entertainment stations waiting for artists to personalize clothing and paint their faces.
I had been invited to a 1-year-old's birthday and was about to leave, convinced I'd accidentally entered a bar mitzvah reception. Then I saw David's mom, parading the sleepy birthday boy around in her arms.
When you're still "flying solo" and your 35thbirthday comes a-knocking, suddenly, the pitifully comic titlescrowding the self-help shelves of your bookstore seem less like jokebooks and more like required reading.
My birthday used to be celebrated as if it were a national holiday. From the backyard pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey days to the touch football games on the beach at Easthampton, July 16 was a date inscribed in infamy.