If you know someone in the Los Angeles area whose great work on behalf of others goes unsung or undersung, who doesn't get paid for what he or she does (or doesn't get paid near enough), whose life is the embodiment of the values of menschlikeit, tsedaka and gmilut hassidim
Like many little boys, Noah Applebaum used to wave in awe whenever a sparkling red fire truck roared by. But Applebaum, 18, never got over his fireman phase, so two years ago he signed up for the Los Angeles Fire Department’s Cadet program, and today he is a badge-wearing cadet, sleeping at Fire Station No. 94 in the Crenshaw District most weekends, training junior cadets and riding along on calls to help firefighters at the scene.
On a recent Friday morning, about an hour and a half into his regular weekly shift as the Friday manager of the North Hollywood Interfaith Food Pantry (NHIFP), Jerry Rabinowitz, 86, broke into a smile.
Many people avert their eyes when they walk by the homeless. Hanne Mintz opens her hand, her heart and her home.
Several days before Mollie Pier’s son, Nathaniel, died of complications from AIDS, she joined together with his doctors, Nathaniel and his longtime partner, Michael, as the couple exchanged rings and vows in his hospital room.
Jonathan Boyer may be the Happy Minyan’s unsung hero, though he’s more than happy to sing the shul’s praises. The Shlomo Carlebach-inspired synagogue was launched some 17 years ago to answer the need for an aufruf for a friend of Boyer’s who was unaffiliated at the time.
Earlier this year, after nearly two decades of providing counseling and psychological help to local Iranians for free or at reduced rates, Shadee Toomari, a local Iranian-Jewish licensed clinical psychologist, formally established the community’s first nonprofit mental health treatment clinic.
There was a moment while preparing for her bat mitzvah when Rebecca Hutman feared the occasion would not live up to its importance. She wasn’t settled at a shul, and the experience was feeling kind of rote.