In 1837, my ancestor, Shlomo-ben-Yaarnkel ha-Cohen, was walking the streets of Szypliszki and he was depressed. For most Jews depression is the default position, expressed with a big ‘oooyyyy’, but for Shlomo this was more defined. He was poor. Not just, like boat-person refugee poor, not like homeless-in-Britain poor, not even ‘how am I ever – Read More-








