My grandfather, whose name was Pesach Hillel, died when I was about seven years old. I have a few special memories of him…He used to throw me in the pool and dare me to swim (that’s how we all learned!)…He used to sneak over the freezer with me and offer me an “ice cream samanich” on a hot day…When I woke up early on a day I was sleeping over at his house, he would set up breakfast for me (a roasted egg) so my grandmother could sleep…
When my second son was born, I knew I wanted to name him after my wonderful grandfather, who had lived through the Holocaust, but come out the other side stronger than anyone I knew. He had given people free loans to get them back on their feet again, given people jobs when he could barely afford it, and gotten involved with so many worthy causes. I knew that I would want my son to follow in his footsteps and think more of others than of himself. That’s why I named my son Pesach Hillel (we call him “Hillel”). He already has a sweet disposition, and I know he is making his namesake proud.
By Keren Perles