Dispatches from a Truncated Seder

No relatives this year, just us.

Turns out we picked a horrid Kosher for Passover wine, an Israeli Merlot... 

[Dear god-Ed]

As rabbinical organizations across the Jewish world are saying 'do what you gotta do' this year, we set that Israeli Merlot aside and uncorked the Cavaleire D'Oro Chinati. What you gonna do about it g...Boom...CRACK, arghhhhh!

The Seder was short this year, almost Stroockian. Our grandfather could burn through one in an hour and fifteen minutes, and that's if he wasn't focusing. Speaking of:

The Kiddish cup of our great-great grandfather, Jacob Loeb (b. 1869) passed down from our late grandfather to us. We visited his grave in Philadelphia a few years ago:

Papa Loeb, as he is known, was an investment banker who lost half his money on Black Tuesday but survived with his name intact.

Our grandfather's parents divorced when he was a kid. Actually, his father more or less ran out on the family (our GF never blamed him BTW, and said his mother was a total nightmare) Papa Loeb, took a hand in raising him. Every Sunday in the 30's Papa Loeb took our grandfather to the George Washington Bridge construction site, and from there, lunch at the Algonquin. 

We have Papa Loeb and Grandma Carrie's living room furniture (given as a wedding present in 1894)  at the house in the Stroock Northern Strategic Direction.