Linda Sadacka

Political movements rarely emerge overnight. Long before they produce headline victories, they recruit volunteers, organize neighborhoods, contest obscure local races, and patiently build influence where few people are paying attention. By the time the broader public notices, much of the work has already been done.

For many New Yorkers, the June 23, 2026 Democratic primaries were one of those moments.

The headlines the following morning focused on the winners and losers. Brad Lander defeated Congressman Dan Goldman. Claire Valdez prevailed in Brooklyn. Darializa Avila Chevalier unseated five-term Congressman Adriano Espaillat. Viewed individually, each race reflected the political character of its district.

Taken together, however, they revealed something far more consequential. Every congressional candidate endorsed by Mayor Zohran Mamdani emerged victorious, signaling that the coalition surrounding him had matured into one of the most disciplined and influential forces within New York Democratic politics.

For some New Yorkers, the results represented the rise of a new progressive coalition. For others, they reflected a profound shift in the direction of the Democratic Party itself.

How Did This Happen?

For New York’s Jewish community, however, the election prompted a different question altogether.

How did this happen?

The answer is not found in one charismatic candidate or one successful campaign. Nor is it the product of a single election cycle. How this happened is the result of years of disciplined organization.

One of the defining characteristics of successful political movements is that they understand something many voters do not: political power is rarely won from the top down. It is built from the ground up.

While many New Yorkers focus on presidential elections or high-profile mayoral races, highly organized activists devote equal attention to the contests most people ignore – local party organizations, judicial races, Democratic clubs, neighborhood campaigns, and the civic institutions where future political leaders are first identified and developed. Those elections rarely generate headlines, yet they determine who builds influence long before the broader public realizes the political landscape has shifted.

Grassroots Strategy

That strategy has been central to the Democratic Socialists of America’s growth over the past decade. Rather than focusing exclusively on national politics, the movement invested heavily in grassroots neighborhood organizing, volunteer recruitment, labor alliances, tenant organizations, and candidate development. Supporters see those efforts as grassroots democracy functioning exactly as intended: citizens organizing around shared priorities and participating consistently in civic life. Critics view them as a long-term effort to reshape the Democratic Party from within, patiently building influence one local victory at a time.

Regardless of one’s political perspective, one conclusion is difficult to dispute. The strategy has produced results. The June primaries did not create this movement. They revealed how much it had already grown.

That reality explains why these elections cannot simply be understood as another chapter in the familiar contest between Republicans and Democrats. Increasingly, some of the strongest warnings about the Democratic Party’s future have come not from Republicans, but from prominent Democrats themselves.

Veteran Democratic strategist James Carville has emerged as one of the party’s sharpest critics of its Democratic Socialist wing. He is a veteran political consultant, author, and television pundit who has strategized for numerous Democratic candidates running for public office. Carville has argued that candidates aligned with that movement no longer reflect the Democratic Party he spent decades helping to build, pointing to positions he believes fall well outside its traditional mainstream. As Carville put it, “That’s just not who I think the Democratic Party is.”

His concerns extend beyond domestic policy. Carville, a non-Jew, has repeatedly distinguished between legitimate criticism of Israeli government policy and questioning the legitimacy of the State of Israel itself.

“Attack the government of Israel all you want to,” he said. “I don’t like it. I can’t stand it. But I like the State of Israel. You can’t conflate the regime with the people.”

At the same time, he has been unequivocal in rejecting candidates who deny Israel’s right to exist. “I don’t want to be in a political party that denies the right of the State of Israel to exist.”

An Unfolding Dabate

Those remarks matter not because they come from a conservative commentator, but because they come from one of the Democratic Party’s best-known strategists. They underscore that the debate unfolding in New York is no longer simply between Democrats and Republicans. Increasingly, it is an internal struggle over the Democratic Party’s identity and future direction.

For New York’s Jewish community, however, those political debates intersect with concerns that are far more personal.

Since the October 7 Hamas massacre, anti-Semitism has risen dramatically across the United States. New York has witnessed anti-Israel demonstrations, harassment on college campuses, and increasingly heated rhetoric surrounding Zionism.

Many Jewish organizations have expressed concern that language once directed primarily at Israeli government policy has expanded to encompass Zionists more broadly, creating an environment in which many Jews feel that support for Israel has itself become grounds for public hostility.

Public Safety and Political Apathy

At the same time, many New Yorkers have grown increasingly concerned about public safety, criminal justice, policing, and quality of life. Several candidates aligned with the Democratic Socialists of America have advocated significant changes to policing and criminal justice. Supporters argue those reforms seek to create a fairer and more equitable system. Critics fear they could weaken deterrence and reduce accountability at a moment when many residents already feel less secure.

Whether one agrees with either perspective is almost secondary. The larger reality is that a political movement with a distinct vision for New York has demonstrated an impressive ability to translate disciplined organization into electoral success.

Perhaps nowhere was that lesson clearer than in the numbers themselves. In New York’s Tenth Congressional District, fewer than 50,000 Democrats cast ballots in the primary. Brad Lander received just over 30,900 votes, while Congressman Dan Goldman received approximately 17,300. In a district representing hundreds of thousands of residents, the political direction of the community was effectively determined by a relatively small electorate.

Summertime and Political Reality

Those figures illustrate an important political reality. Elections are not always won by persuading the greatest number of people. More often, they are won by identifying supporters, organizing them, and ensuring they actually vote. The June primaries demonstrated that disciplined organization can outweigh complacency, even in one of the nation’s largest cities.

For New York’s Jewish community, that lesson carries particular significance. New York’s election reforms moved the primary calendar to June, a change supporters argued would modernize elections, improve administration, and expand participation through measures such as early voting. Whatever the intent behind those reforms, the practical effect has been that many primaries now take place just as much of the Orthodox community begins leaving the city for the summer.

By late June, families have already departed for Deal, the Catskills, the Hamptons, or elsewhere. Summer schedules replace political ones. Meanwhile, organized political movements have been preparing for these elections for months, educating their supporters about early voting, absentee ballots, and the importance of primary turnout.

That contrast is difficult to ignore. It is not an excuse. It is a lesson. For generations, many voters treated the Democratic primary as little more than a preliminary contest. The election that mattered, they assumed, would come in November. That assumption no longer reflects political reality in much of New York.

In district after district, Democratic registration so heavily outweighs Republican registration that the primary has effectively become the decisive election. By the time voters return to the polls in November, many of the most consequential races have already been decided. That reality demands a corresponding change in the way our community thinks about civic participation.

Primary Elections Determine Political Direction

Voting in a Democratic primary is no longer simply an exercise reserved for political enthusiasts. In many parts of New York, it has become the moment when the city’s political direction is determined.

The June primaries were not an isolated example. They reflected the same political dynamics that helped propel Mayor Zohran Mamdani to victory. His success did not emerge suddenly. It was built over years of organization, coalition building, and consistent participation in the contests that many occasional voters overlooked.

The lesson is larger than any individual candidate. Communities that understand where political influence is built are far more likely to shape the future than communities that engage only after the most consequential decisions have already been made.

For New York’s Jewish community, that may be the single most important political lesson to emerge from the June 2026 primaries. Understanding how this happened, however, is only the first step.

The more difficult question is what these political changes may mean for the future of New York and for the Jewish community that has long called it home.

Where Do We Go From Here?

If the June primaries revealed anything, it is that political landscapes can change long before most people recognize that they have changed at all.

Understanding how we arrived at this moment is important. Understanding where we go from here is even more so. For many in New York’s Jewish community, that conversation has already begun.

It is taking place around Shabbat tables, after minyan, at weddings, in school parking lots, and over family dinners. Questions that would have seemed almost unimaginable only a few years ago are now being asked with increasing frequency.

Do We Still Have a Future in New York?

Some families have already left for Florida. Others are exploring New Jersey. Some are taking steps to make Aliyah. Many have chosen to remain, while quietly wondering whether the city they love is changing into something fundamentally different.

No one can answer that question with certainty. What can be said with confidence is that New York is changing. Perhaps the greatest danger, however, is not the change itself. It is our remarkable ability to become accustomed to it.

There is an old metaphor about a frog placed in gradually warming water. Whether or not the story is scientifically accurate is beside the point. Its lesson has endured because it reflects something profoundly human. When change occurs gradually, each individual step appears manageable. Only when we look back do we realize how dramatically the landscape has shifted.

Many New Yorkers would argue that they are already experiencing that phenomenon. Riding the subway has become a source of anxiety for many commuters. Encounters with homelessness and severe mental illness have become increasingly common in neighborhoods where they were once rare. High-profile crimes involving repeat offenders have intensified debates over bail reform, prosecution, and accountability. Security outside synagogues and yeshivot, which was once exceptional, has become routine. On many college campuses, Jewish students now think carefully before expressing support for Israel publicly. None of these developments occurred overnight.

New York Is Not the Same

Nor can they all be attributed to one election, one policy, or one political movement. Taken together, however, they have created the unmistakable sense that the New York many people experience today is not the New York they remember from even a decade ago. The June primaries did not create those concerns. They crystallized them. They forced many New Yorkers to confront a question they had quietly been avoiding.

If this is where New York is headed, what does that mean for our future? It was several years ago, as I watched many of these changes beginning to emerge, that I found myself wrestling with that same question. Should Jewish families consider leaving New York?

One Answer: Strengthen Ourselves

Seeking Torah guidance, I received an answer from my rabbi that has remained with me ever since. The message was simple. The yetzer hara exists everywhere.

A person can move to Miami, New Jersey, Israel, or anywhere else. But if he is not engaged in the lifelong struggle against his own evil inclination, he has not solved the real problem. Conversely, a Jew who strengthens his Torah, his mitzvot, and his relationship with Hashem carries that spiritual protection wherever Hashem places him.

Because, while elections determine who governs a city, they have never determined the destiny of the Jewish people.

Torah Perspective

Ignoring politics is not a Torah response. Neither is becoming consumed by it. That balance was beautifully articulated by Rabbi Joey Haber when I asked him how Torah views elections whose outcomes may visibly affect our lives. He replied:

“The Torah always teaches us two things:  1) We do our best. 2) Hashem is in control.  So, when there is an election that visibly can affect our lives, our job is to do step one and leave the rest up to Hashem.

Which means we have a responsibility to vote – not with hysteria, just with the attitude of, ‘I’m doing what I need to do.’”

Perhaps that is the enduring lesson of the June 2026 primaries.

Politics has never been the foundation of Jewish survival. Empires have risen and fallen. Governments have come and gone. Political movements have reshaped nations throughout history. Yet, the Jewish people have endured because our ultimate security has never depended solely on political power. It has depended upon our relationship with Hashem, our commitment to Torah, and our willingness to strengthen ourselves even as the world around us changes.

What “Not in My Backyard” Really Means

Like most people, I thought I knew exactly what “Not in My Backyard” meant.

The phrase has become part of the American vocabulary. We hear it whenever a new apartment complex is proposed, a warehouse is planned, or a neighborhood pushes back against development. Most of us assume it refers to people who support an idea, so long as it isn’t built next door. According to Wikipedia, “Not in My Backyard,” or NIMBY, describes the opposition by residents to proposed real estate and infrastructure developments in their local area, as well as support for strict land regulations. The connotation is that such residents are only opposing the development because it is close to them and they would tolerate or support ii if it were built farther away.  

When I was asked to explore the growing conversation surrounding NIMBY in our own community, I imagined I would spend my time reading planning-board minutes, researching zoning disputes, and interviewing attorneys. Instead, I found myself doing something completely different.

The Million Dollar Question

Everywhere I went, I started asking people a question.

If I stopped for a coffee, I’d ask the barista before I left. If I was paying for groceries, I’d ask the cashier while she rang up my order. If I was having lunch, I’d ask the waitress before she brought the check.

“When you hear the phrase ‘Not in My Backyard,’ what comes to mind?”

I wasn’t looking for statistics or carefully thought-out opinions. I wanted people’s first reaction. Sometimes our first instinct reveals more than the answer we give after we’ve had time to think about it.

At first, nothing seemed unusual.

Outside Ocean Township, the answers were remarkably consistent. Before I could even explain what I meant, several people assumed I was talking about the large summer crowds that descend on the Jersey Shore. People spoke about traffic, public safety, beach disturbances, and the annual disruption that accompanies the season. To them, “Not in My Backyard” had nothing to do with housing or neighborhood growth. It was about protecting the quality of life they already had.

Neighborhoods Outside Ocean Township

Then I crossed into the neighborhoods surrounding Ocean Township and continued asking the same question.

The difference was immediate. Before I could even explain what I meant, several people assumed I was referring to the Jewish community.

I remember thinking, “That’s interesting.” The question hadn’t changed. I was asking it the same way I had been asking it all week. Yet, somehow the answer had changed completely.

As I continued stopping for coffee, running errands, and talking to people, the pattern kept repeating itself. Different stores. Different people. Different conversations. The same assumption.

By then, I had stopped thinking about zoning.

A Conversation About People

I wanted to understand why a phrase that most Americans associate with development had become, in these neighborhoods, a conversation about people.

As those conversations unfolded, I noticed something else. Almost no one began by talking about planning boards or lawsuits. They talked about traffic. Parking. Larger homes. Mature trees disappearing. Streets that no longer felt quite the way people remembered them.

But if I stayed in the conversation long enough, those subjects almost always gave way to something deeper.

One longtime resident began by describing the physical changes she had watched over the years. She spoke about modest homes being replaced by substantially larger ones and she questioned whether the pace of redevelopment was healthy for the neighborhood.

Yet, the longer we spoke, the less she talked about houses and the more she talked about people. She missed recognizing the neighbors on her block. She missed stopping to chat on the sidewalk. She missed the sense of familiarity that had once made the neighborhood feel like home.

Relationships Are the Issue

Whether every memory was perfectly accurate wasn’t really the point. What struck me was that, beneath the discussion about development, she was really talking about relationships.

Not everyone I spoke with viewed the changes through that lens.

One woman smiled when I asked the question because, in her view, the conversation surrounding the community had become far more negative than the reality she experienced every day. She told me the new families had enriched the neighborhood. Instead of seeing strangers, she saw people she had come to know and appreciate. Her world had become larger, not smaller, simply because different people had moved in.

That conversation forced me to pause. Until then, I had been listening primarily to what people believed they had lost. Now I was hearing someone describe what she believed she had gained. The neighborhood had not changed for one person and remained the same for another. The very same streets had produced two entirely different experiences, depending on where someone happened to stand.

Non-Jews’ Responses

As I continued asking the question, another observation emerged that I had not anticipated. Several non-Jewish residents, none of whom knew one another, volunteered that their concerns were not about Judaism itself. In fact, many were careful to make that distinction before saying anything else. What they struggled to explain was something less tangible. They described newer neighbors as friendly but insular, people who tended to socialize within their own circles rather than with the broader neighborhood.

On the flip side, the Jewish perspective was never a mystery to me. I have lived it.

Jews and Continuity

I know why young families search for homes within walking distance of a synagogue. I understand why access to Jewish schools, kosher food, and community institutions is not a luxury but a necessity. As communities grow and children marry, they naturally look for homes close enough to remain part of the lives they have built. What many outsiders experience as expansion, Jewish families often experience as continuity, a way to remain connected to their faith, their families, and their community.

That reality is neither unusual nor unique. Throughout history, Jewish communities have grown this way, gradually extending beyond their original boundaries as each new generation searched for a place to call home.

Neighborhood Growth and Traffic

I also asked whether there were aspects of the neighborhood’s growth that concerned them. I expected to hear about rising home prices or the difficulty of finding housing. Instead, the answer I heard most often was traffic.

Congested roads, crowded intersections, and longer drives during peak hours frustrated them just as much as everyone else. That surprised me because it reminded me that not every concern falls neatly along communal lines. Sometimes neighbors disagree about profound issues, and sometimes they simply sit in the same traffic together.

By then, I understood why the conversation surrounding “Not in My Backyard” had become so emotionally charged. I was not listening to two sides arguing over the same set of facts. I was listening to two groups of people whose experiences of the very same place had led them to tell entirely different stories.

By that point, I had heard enough to know that I wasn’t dealing with a simple disagreement over development. The more people I spoke with, the more I realized they were not arguing about the same issue at all.

Longtime residents were describing what had changed. Jewish residents were describing what had finally become possible.

Looking at Community Through Different Lenses

Neither group was imagining things. They were simply experiencing the same community through entirely different lenses. That distinction matters because it explains why these conversations so often become emotional. When people believe they are talking about different things, they inevitably talk past one another. One side discusses traffic counts and neighborhood character. The other discusses the ability to raise children within walking distance of a synagogue, a school, and a community that makes Jewish life possible. Both conversations are sincere. They are simply answering different questions.

That realization sent me somewhere I hadn’t expected to go. Until then, everything I had gathered had come from conversations over coffee counters, grocery checkouts, and restaurant tables. Now I wanted to understand how those same tensions appeared when they left everyday conversation and entered the public record.

It did not take long to find the answer.

Entering the Public Record

Ocean Township has spent years wrestling with exactly these questions. One of the most prominent examples involved Yeshiva Gedola Na’os Yaakov on Logan Road. Residents voiced concerns about traffic, neighborhood character, safety, and the overall scale of the proposed project. The yeshiva argued that denying their application imposed an unlawful burden on its ability to exercise its religion.

What began as a local land use dispute ultimately became years of federal litigation under the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act, better known as RLUIPA.

A similar conflict unfolded in nearby Allenhurst, where a Sephardic congregation challenged zoning restrictions that it believed prevented it from establishing a synagogue. That case, too, ended not with a neighborhood consensus but with a legal settlement.

Reading through court filings after spending days listening to ordinary residents was an unexpected experience. The language could not have been more different.

Court opinions discuss ordinances, statutory protections, precedent, and constitutional rights. Planning boards weigh traffic studies, parking requirements, and environmental impact. Every argument is measured against legal standards.

Questions of How Neighbors Feel

Yet, none of those documents answered the questions people had been asking me. No traffic study explains why someone feels disconnected from the neighborhood they have lived in for thirty years. No zoning ordinance explains why a young Jewish family feels it has nowhere else to build an observant life.

The law can determine whether a municipality acted properly. It cannot determine whether neighbors understand one another.

And perhaps that is where this conversation has gone off course.

After weeks of conversations, dozens of unexpected interviews, and hours spent reading court filings, I walked away with a conclusion I never anticipated.

The phrase “Not in My Backyard” isn’t really about backyards. It’s about fear.

Fear

For some, it is the fear of losing a neighborhood that no longer feels familiar. For others, it is the fear of never finding a place where they can build the kind of life their faith requires. Those fears look very different, but they are fears, nonetheless.

The mistake we make is assuming that the other side’s concern must be rooted in ulterior motives. It is easier to believe someone is intolerant than to accept that they may simply be struggling with change. It is just as easy to assume newcomers are indifferent to the people around them when, in reality, they may be entirely consumed by the challenges of building a new life.

The truth, I suspect, is more complicated.

Communities are not built only with zoning approvals, construction permits, or planning board resolutions. They are built through thousands of ordinary interactions that never appear in a court record or a newspaper headline. They are built when neighbors learn one another’s names, when children play together, when conversations replace assumptions, and when familiarity slowly replaces suspicion.

What Makes a Community Neighborhood

As Jews, we have always understood the importance of building communities. We build synagogues, schools, mikvaot, and kosher markets because Jewish life depends on them. But perhaps we sometimes forget that the strongest communities are not held together by buildings alone. They are held together by relationships.

If there was one lesson this assignment taught me, it is that the most important conversations rarely happen inside a courtroom or at a planning board meeting. They happen over a cup of coffee, at the checkout counter, or between two neighbors who decide to stop and talk instead of simply walking past one another.

I began this assignment believing I was writing about zoning. I finished it believing I was writing about something far more important.

A neighborhood is not defined by the size of its homes, the width of its streets, or even the outcome of its legal battles. In the end, a neighborhood is defined by whether the people who share it choose to become neighbors.

Linda Argalgi Sadacka is a writer, speaker, and strategist whose work focuses on leadership, culture, faith, and community engagement. Through her writing, advocacy, and The Silent Revolution podcast, she reaches audiences seeking thoughtful conversations on public discourse and Jewish life.

Rabbi Yehuda Finchas

David sat at his father’s bedside in the ICU. Two weeks had passed since his catastrophic stroke. He had not regained consciousness, and the doctors saw no realistic path to recovery. David’s brother, his voice breaking, said quietly, “It is time to let him go comfortably. He would not have wanted this.” The family turned to me and asked, “Rabbi, can we ask the hospital to switch off the ventilator? What does halacha say?”

In Masechet Semachot (1:3–4), Chazal teach: “One may not move a dying person… until he dies… One who touches or moves the gosses is considered as one who spills blood.” Rabbi Meir likens the dying person to a flickering flame: “Just as touching a fading flame can extinguish it, so too, touching the dying person can shorten their life.”

Based on this principle, Hacham Ovadia Yosef, zt”l, rules that one cannot actively hasten the death of a person even if they are dying (Hazon Ovadia, Aveilut, vol. 1, p. 81). Likewise, Hacham Yitzhak Yosef(Yalkut Yosef, Shabbat, p. 276) rules explicitly that it is forbidden to disconnect a ventilator from a patient who depends on it.

Depriving a Person of Respiration as an Act of Killing

The Rambam’s analysis helps explain the basis of this ruling. In Hilchot Shabbat (11:1), he rules that one who strangles an animal is liable as a tolada (a derivative) of the prohibition against slaughtering. He extends this principle even to removing a fish from water.  Liability arises already when the area between its fins dries such that it “can no longer live.”

The Rambam (Hilchot Rotzeach 3:9) also considers one liable for murder by covering a person’s mouth and nose, confining them in a room and filling it with smoke, or enclosing them and depriving them of breathable air. Although these cases appear very different, they all share the same underlying feature. In none of them does the perpetrator necessarily inflict a fatal wound. Rather, he deliberately interrupts the victim’s ability to breathe by removing the conditions necessary for continued respiration.

A Contemporary Parallel

The fish is not injured by a knife or a blow; rather, it dies because it has been removed from the environment that enables respiration. A modern parallel may be found in a deep-sea diver breathing through an external air supply. If another person were to deliberately sever that air supply, one would not describe the diver’s death as merely the consequence of being underwater. Rather, that deliberate act would ordinarily be regarded as the cause of death.

The Rambam’s example of smoke suggests a similar comparison. Imagine a victim rescued from a smoke-filled building who survives only because firefighters provide oxygen through a mask. Disconnecting the oxygen supply would cause that person’s death. The smoke explains why assisted respiration became necessary; the deliberate disconnection of the oxygen supply explains why the victim died at that moment.

Mechanical Ventilation

Although the Rambam was not discussing modern ventilators in intensive care medicine, his underlying principle extends to situations in which respiration depends upon an external source. A ventilator does not independently create life; rather, it provides the patient’s present means of respiration by enabling ventilation and oxygenation to continue when the body can no longer perform those functions on its own. Disconnecting a ventilator from a patient who remains dependent upon it interrupts that respiratory support and predictably results in hypoxia and death.

The patient’s illness explains why assisted ventilation became necessary, but the deliberate withdrawal of that respiratory support explains why the patient died.

Conclusion

Returning to David and his family: halacha does not permit them to direct the hospital to switch off the ventilator if doing so will cause death. Their love, and their genuine desire to end his suffering, does not transform a prohibited act into a permitted one. At the same time, every effort should be taken to relieve pain and suffering through appropriate care.

As with all complex end-of-life questions, one must seek guidance from a competent halachic authority. Organizations such as the Sephardic Division of Chayim Aruchim, launched specifically to address our community’s needs, are dedicated to offering sensitive, informed halachic support during these delicate and difficult moments.

Rabbi Yehuda Finchas is a worldwide expert, lecturer, and author on Medical Halacha. He heads the Torat Habayit Medical Halacha Institute. He is the author of Brain Death in Halacha and the Tower of Babel Syndrome and his latest book is Nutrition and Hydration in Halacha. To contact Rabbi Finchas, email [email protected].

Sam J. Sutton

Eighteen years after its first pitch, M&S Softball has entered a new era.

For nearly two decades, the league has been one of the community’s signature summer traditions, bringing together generations of players, families, and fans. But Year 18 feels different. The league’s theme this season, “The Future Is Now,” isn’t just a slogan, it’s the story of the season.

A wave of young talent has reshaped the league, bringing speed, athleticism, and fresh energy to M&S Park. At the same time, longtime veterans have answered the challenge, proving they still belong among the league’s elite. The result has been one of the deepest and most competitive seasons in M&S history.

From Monday through Thursday, M&S Park has become a nightly destination, with fans lining the fences while thousands more follow the action through live broadcasts and highlight packages.

The Leaders

Leading the charge are the Summer Knight Kings, the league’s lone undefeated team. At 6-0, they’ve established themselves as the early championship favorite behind a balanced roster that has consistently delivered in every phase of the game. Abo Shama has anchored the offense, while Ralph Hanan has emerged as one of the league’s top pitchers, giving the Kings the combination every contender is searching for.

Close behind is Icey Hot, whose offense has been one of the league’s most explosive. Moshe Menshikov has put together an MVP-caliber first half, leading M&S in hits, runs scored, triples, and slugging percentage while ranking among the league leaders in nearly every offensive category. On the mound, Marc Sayegh has been equally dominant, leading the league in victories as Icey Hot continues to chase the top spot.

Close Behind

The race behind the leaders has been just as compelling.

After opening the season 0-3, Murderers Row refused to fold, battling back into the playoff picture behind the steady production of Eric Cytryn, Jimmy Malakh, and Michael Salomon. Chronicles Unhinged burst onto the scene with one of the league’s strongest starts and continues to feature one of M&S’s deepest lineups, led by Eli Mamiye, Sol Asis, Sammy Seruya, and Richard Levy.

Despite a record that doesn’t fully reflect its talent, Downtown remains one of the league’s most dangerous teams. MD Applegrad has been among the league leaders in RBIs, doubles, and pitching victories, while Alan Jemal is developing his power stroke.

The remaining clubs continue to show just how balanced the league has become. The Party Animals have relied on the outstanding bats of Yogi Kassin and Isaac Faham, Take Two has received strong offensive production from Teddy Braha and Zvi Rishty, and One Mo Time has become one of the season’s biggest storylines after completely reshaping its roster through a series of blockbuster trades. While the wins have yet to fully follow, their new-look lineup has everyone eager to see what the second half will bring.

Individual Performances

Individual performances have been just as impressive as the team races. Yogi Kassin leads all qualified hitters with a remarkable .727 batting average. Eric Cytryn owns an incredible .760 on-base percentage, while Moshe Menshikov’s all-around offensive production has placed him squarely in the MVP conversation. On the pitching side, Marc Sayegh and Ralph Hanan have established themselves as two of the league’s premier arms, giving fans marquee matchups every week.

Kudos to the Supporters

None of this growth would be possible without the continued support of the league’s outstanding partners. Fresh Start Painting as M&S Softball’s presenting sponsor, while AJ’s Home Improvement and The Ohos continue to invest in the league’s growth and player experience. Fans unable to attend games can still catch every pitch through the league’s official live stream and the league now has a media partner, Last Call with Sutton & Simmons.

M&S’ Striking Evolution

Eighteen years in, M&S Softball continues to evolve. New stars have emerged. Veterans continue to set the standard. The level of competition has never been higher, and every week seems to produce another unforgettable moment.

The future of M&S Softball isn’t on the horizon anymore.

The Future Is Now…

From a Backyard Pastime to One of America’s Fastest-Growing Sports

If you have visited a local park, recreation center, or community gym in recent years, you have probably heard the familiar pop of a plastic ball traveling across a court. Chances are, you were hearing a game of pickleball.

Although it was invented more than 60 years ago, pickleball has become one of the fastest-growing sports in the United States. A rapidly growing number of people now play the game for exercise, competition, and social connection. Pickleball attracts players of all ages because it is easy to learn, affordable to play, and challenging enough to keep people interested for years.

A combination of tennis, badminton, and table tennis, pickleball blends strategy, quick reactions, and teamwork. Yet its rise from a simple backyard experiment to an international sport began with three friends, a badminton court, and a desire to create something the whole family could enjoy.

A Summer Idea Becomes a New Sport

Pickleball was invented during the summer of 1965 on Bainbridge Island, Washington, near Seattle. The game was created by Joel Pritchard, Bill Bell, and Barney McCallum, three friends who were looking for a fun activity that their families could play together.

According to accounts from the founders and their families, the group started with an existing badminton court but did not have all the equipment needed for a traditional badminton game. They improvised by using table tennis paddles and a lightweight perforated plastic ball. As they played, they experimented with the rules and court setup, including adjustments to the net height, eventually creating a format that better suited the new game.

What began as a casual family activity soon developed into a structured sport. The three founders continued refining the rules, adjusting the equipment, and creating a game that could be enjoyed by beginners while still offering strategic challenges for experienced players.

Building the Foundation

Early versions of the game used table tennis paddles before larger paddles were created specifically for pickleball. These larger paddles gave players better control and helped to establish the style of equipment still used today.

The perforated plastic ball also became one of pickleball’s defining features. Unlike a tennis ball, it moves at a slower pace and encourages players to focus on placement, timing, and strategy. The combination of the ball, the smaller court, and the carefully developed rules created a sport where players compete through skill and decision-making as much as athletic ability.

One of pickleball’s most recognizable features is the non-volley zone, commonly called “the kitchen.” This seven-foot area on both sides of the net prevents players from standing directly at the net and hitting every shot out of the air. The rule encourages thoughtful play and creates the quick exchanges that make pickleball exciting to watch and play.

How the Game Spread Across the Country

As friends and neighbors on Bainbridge Island learned the game, pickleball slowly began spreading to other communities. In 1972, Pickle-Ball, Inc. was formed to help manufacture equipment and establish the sport more formally.

During the 1980s and 1990s, pickleball continued growing through schools, parks, recreation departments, community centers, and retirement communities. While it was not yet widely known across the country, dedicated players helped build a strong foundation by organizing clubs, teaching new players, and introducing the game to their communities.

The sport’s growth accelerated in the early 2000s. More communities began adding pickleball courts, and many tennis facilities added pickleball lines to meet increasing demand. Its accessibility became one of its greatest strengths: players could learn the basics quickly, but improving strategy and technique provided a lifelong challenge.

The formation of the USA Pickleball Association (now USA Pickleball) in 2005 helped further organize the sport, establish official rules, and support its continued expansion.

Enjoyed by People of All Ages

Pickleball’s popularity comes from its ability to bring together people of different ages and skill levels.

The court is 20 feet wide by 44 feet long, about one-third the size of a tennis court. This smaller playing area means players do not have to cover as much ground, while still getting an excellent workout. The game can be competitive and fast-paced without requiring the same level of endurance as some other racquet sports.

The social side of pickleball is equally important. Doubles play is especially common, and many communities offer open-play sessions where players rotate partners and welcome newcomers. For many people, pickleball is not just a sport – it is a way to build friendships and stay connected.

At the same time, competitive players appreciate the depth of the game. Learning how to place shots, create spin, anticipate opponents’ moves, and work effectively with a partner can take years to master.

How the Game Is Played

Pickleball is played on a court the same size for both singles and doubles matches. The net is slightly lower than a tennis net, measuring 36 inches high at the sidelines and 34 inches in the center.

Players use solid paddles made from wood, composite materials, or lightweight modern materials. The ball is made of  durable plastic, with holes designed for consistent flight. Indoor and outdoor versions are available to suit different playing conditions.

Each point begins with an underhand serve. The ball must be struck below the player’s navel, with the paddle head below the wrist at contact. After the serve, the receiving team must allow the ball to bounce before returning it, and the serving team must also let the return bounce before playing the ball. This is known as the double-bounce rule.

After those first two bounces, players may volley the ball or allow it to bounce before returning it. The kitchen rule adds another layer of strategy, requiring players to carefully choose when to move forward and when to stay back.

From Recreation to Global Competition

Today, pickleball is played in schools, parks, gyms, clubs, and professional tournaments around the world. USA Pickleball oversees official rules, supports tournaments, and promotes the sport at all levels.

Professional pickleball has grown significantly, with elite competitions attracting skilled athletes and larger audiences. Television coverage, online streaming, and social media have helped introduce the sport to millions of new fans.

The game has also expanded internationally, with players and organizations promoting pickleball across North America, Europe, Asia, Australia, and other regions.

More than six decades after three friends created a backyard game, pickleball continues to grow because it offers something many sports struggle to provide: a welcoming experience for beginners and a rewarding challenge for experienced competitors.

Whether played casually with neighbors or at the highest levels of competition, pickleball remains true to its original spirit – a simple game designed to bring people together.

Why Is It Called Pickleball?

The name “pickleball” is one of the sport’s most interesting mysteries.

The Popular Story

Many people have heard the story that pickleball was named after Pickles, the Pritchard family dog, who supposedly chased the ball during early games.

It is an entertaining story, but most historians believe the dog was actually named after the game rather than the game being named after the dog.

The Leading Explanation

According to Joan Pritchard, Joel Pritchard’s wife, the name came from the rowing term “pickle boat.” In rowing, a pickle boat refers to a crew made up of rowers selected from different boats.

Because the new sport combined elements of several existing games – including tennis, badminton, and table tennis – she felt the name was a fitting comparison.

Although different versions of the story have been shared over the years, the pickle boat explanation is generally considered the strongest and best-supported account of how pickleball received its unusual name.

Victor Cohen

“Honoring Our Past Building Our Future” was the theme of the Hillel Yeshiva’s 75^th anniversary gala celebration dinner. The black tie event was held on June 23^rd at the outdoor tent erected for the evening at the home of Carol and Morris, a”h, Franco.

Hillel Yeshiva has been a central part of our community’s education in Deal, New Jersey. For generations, most children from the Deal area have attended Hillel, whether for elementary school, middle school, high school, or some combination of the three.  The evening was dedicated to celebrate and to show hakarat hatov to those who have worked tirelessly for Hillel’s growth and advancement, and to fundraise to insure its future. The event was open to parents of current students, community members, and alumni of Hillel, as well as those who helped make the institution into what it is today.

I would like to give special thanks to Sammy Saka, who chaired the event, for his help and guidance with this article.

A Brief History

Hillel Yeshiva opened its doors in 1951 in Asbury Park, led by Rabbi Morris A. Schmidman, a”h. The yeshiva was founded with the commitment to provide its students with outstanding Judaic and general studies. Hillel was, of course, much smaller than it is today and it was tailored to the local Jewish population in Deal.

In the early 1970s, things began to change ass more of our community members began to move to Deal.  Hillel Yeshiva outgrew its space and moved to Logan Road. Hillel’s president at the time, Morris I. Franco, was the lead fundraiser and helped Hillel to reach an enrollment of over 300 students. Mr. Franco believed that every student who desired a Jewish education should be accommodated. Through his work and his vision, he set the tone for the decades to come.

Two brothers, Saul E. Ashkenazi, a”h, and Ely Ashkenazi, a”h, were visionaries. They recognized that even the Logan Road space would not be adequate for what Hillel needed. Accordingly, they donated a large, 56-acre parcel of land that would become the future complex of Hillel, and one the school would move to just a few years later.

Mr. Morris I. Franco, Mr. Saul E. Ashkenazi, and Mr. Ely Ashkenazi are honored in Hillel’s Founders Hall for their tireless work and dedication to the community. Presidents who followed and helped Hillel grow are Mr. Jack D. Franco, Mr. Joel Rishty, a”h, Dr. Charles Abady, Mr. Sammy Saka, and Mr. Joseph I. Mizrahi, the current President of Hillel. Mr. Jack D. Franco serves as the Chairman of the Board of Trustees, and Mr. Saka serves as Chairman of the Board of Directors.

Today, Hillel’s enrollment totals nearly 1,500 students, and the number grows substantially every year. Nearly every incoming grade is larger than the last. Future expansion is now in the planning.

An Unforgettable Evening

The event took place in the Franco’s backyard under a giant white tent. Current students welcomed the hundreds of guests in and directed them towards their assigned seats.

Many rabbis and community leaders were present. Hillel’s Rosh Yeshiva, Rabbi Saul Kassin, spoke about the school’s growth. He also presented awards. Many other rabbis were in attendance, including Assistant Rosh Yeshiva Rabbi Joseph Dana, and almost all of the rabbis who currently teach at Hillel. Community rabbis included Rabbi Shlomo Diamond and Rabbi Eli Mansour.

To open the night, children from Hillel Yeshiva’s kindergarten sang Hatikva and Gd Bless America and led the Pledge of Allegiance.

Keynote Speech

Sammy Saka delivered the keynote speech. “Tonight is a moment 75 years in the making,” he said. He noted that the theme of the night, “Honoring Our Past, Building Our Future,” was evident by looking around the room, at the hundreds of alumni in attendance. Sammy noted, “You are seeing Hillel’s legacy come to life.” Sammy thanked and recognized those who worked so hard in the early days and those who help Hillel today.

“I would like to thank our administrators, rabbis, and faculty members for their commitment and love to our children. Every day, you show up not just as educators, but as mentors and role models. You are the heartbeat of this institution,” Sammy added.

Sammy then addressed the board. “Board of Trustees Chairman, Mr. Jack D. Franco, Board of Trustees Mr. Ezra S. Ashkenazi, Mr. Neil Tobias, and Mr. Morris S. Ashear, current President Mr. Joe Mizrahi, past President Mr. Joel Rishty of blessed memory, past President Dr. Charles Abady and all of our officers, advisory board, board members, past board members, and PTA – thank you for your lasting impact on Hillel and its students.”

Sammy offered special recognition to Richie Benedikt and the entire Ray Buildersteam for their incredible work on the construction of our new buildings and to Aliza Sokol of SusanStrauss Design for her team’s beautiful design work.

“I would like to also thank everyone involved with the planning of tonight’s festivities, especially Norma Cohen. Norma designed this event from the ground up, thought through every detail, and spent a whole year preparing everything for tonight.”

Sammy also thanked One Hospitality, Co-chair Dr. Gayle Krost, Margo Jemal, Jackie Gindi, Elizabeth Beckerman, Harry J. Franco, Richie Setton, Joseph Ades, Michael Dweck, and Joseph Shamah. “The creativity, hard work, and attention to detail from the entire group made this evening truly exceptional.”

Hillel’s Growth

Sammy then spoke about the exceptional growth of Hillel over the past few years. “This coming September,” he said, “Hillel will welcome a record 1,500 students – up ten percent year over year.”

“To provide some added perspective,” he continued, “in the High School we average 65 students per grade; In the Middle School 90 students per grade; in the Elementary school 110 students per grade, and in kindergarten, an incredible 135 students. At this pace, in just a few short years, we will exceed 2,000 students.”

“Our future is very bright.”

Sammy walked through the plans for the school’s expansion. With more students, Hillel needs to grow once again. “There’s four phases,” Sammy said. “Phase one is the new preschool. Phase two is the new high school. Phase three is the new middle school, and phase four is the new, multi-level parking lot.”

The new Jack & Marilyn Chehebar Preschool is due to be completed in September 2026, and will raise the overall capacity to 1,600 students. The new high school raises the capacity to 2,100 students, and the new middle school will raise it to 2,600 students. The parking lot will help support this growth.

Funding

The next phases of the plan will cost $36 million dollars. “To help raise these funds,” Sammy said, “we created Legends Park in the front of the school. It will be a meaningful, vibrant hub for outdoor programs. Students, parents, and faculty can come together in Legends Park throughout the year to celebrate special moments.”

After the speeches, the fundraising for the night began. Community leader Mr. Harry Adjmi took the microphone, and the excitement increased. Numbers started flying in from across the room. Very quickly, Hillel Yeshiva found itself with significant financial support. Many of its alumni stepped up to the plate to give back to their alma mater.

Famous comedian Elon Gold closed out the night. He joked that Sammy made him an offer to teach in Hillel, on condition that he move to Deal. His routine had the entire tent roaring with laughter, and he moved between poking fun at the donation numbers, current affairs, self-deprecating jokes about speaking Hebrew, and much more. He truly brought up the night.

The Future

Hillel, and the community overall, have a bright future ahead. Our community in Deal continues to grow. Even with the opening of additional schools in Deal over the past 20 years, Hillel Yeshiva continues to see enrollment exceeding capacity and sees a need to plan for the future. The community’s support in these endeavors is also strong, ensuring that the education of our children, the leaders of the future, is given the highest priority.

“Whoever saves a single life, it is as if he has saved an entire world.”

(Sanhedrin 37a)

Jordana Baruchov Greenfield

Twenty years ago, Mendy Reiner saw a heartbreaking reality that most people simply accepted as inevitable. Too many members of the Jewish community were suffering and dying while waiting for kidney transplants, even though healthy people were walking around every day with the ability to save them.

Living kidney donation was almost unheard of. Families often faced years of dialysis, uncertainty and heartbreak, with little hope of finding a living donor. Rather than accepting the status quo, Mendy envisioned an organization that would educate the community, guide families through the transplant process, and inspire ordinary people to perform an extraordinary act of hesed. What began in 2006 as a small organization operating out of a shared office with only a handful of dedicated employees, several working part-time, has grown into a movement that has transformed the landscape of living kidney donation throughout the Jewish world.

Those early years were filled with challenges. Every transplant required months of education, advocacy, fundraising, medical coordination, and emotional support. Every potential donor needed to understand not only the medical process, but also the emotional and spiritual significance of donating a kidney to another person. There were countless meetings with physicians, rabbis, community leaders and families. There were misconceptions to overcome and fears to address. In those days, if Renewal could facilitate ten kidney transplants in a year, it would have been considered an extraordinary accomplishment. Fifteen seemed ambitious. Twenty felt almost unimaginable.

Hashem had much bigger plans.

A Story of Exponential Growth

Last month, Renewal celebrated a milestone that once seemed impossible. The organization facilitated its 1,500th living donor kidney transplant, a remarkable achievement that reflects two decades of unwavering dedication to saving lives. From just two transplants during its first year to a projected record-breaking year in 2026, Renewal has become the leading force behind living kidney donation in the Jewish community. The pace of growth has been astonishing. The first year brought two transplants. The second year brought seven. Last year alone, Renewal facilitated 170 living donor kidney transplants, and this year is on track to surpass even that remarkable number.

Behind every statistic is a human story. Renewal’s youngest kidney recipient was only two years old. The oldest recipient was 86. The youngest donor was 21, while the oldest donor was 77. Each transplant represents far more than a successful surgery. It represents children who get their parent back, grandparents who live to celebrate another simhah, husbands and wives who receive years they feared had been lost, and families whose futures are forever changed.

Renewal’s impact extends far beyond the operating room. Approximately 60 percent of all altruistic kidney donors in New York have come through Renewal, as have one-third of those in New Jersey. Every year the organization processes more than 3,500 cheek swabs from potential donors. Each swab begins a careful process of education, testing, advocacy, and guidance that often spans months. Every donation costs an average of nearly $19,000 to coordinate, yet for Renewal every dollar represents an investment in something priceless – the opportunity to save a life.

Ironically, Renewal’s greatest accomplishment has created its greatest challenge. More people know about the organization than ever before, and more families are turning to Renewal for help. Today, Renewal is assisting more than 640 men, women and children waiting for kidney transplants, representing an increase of more than 200 percent in less than two years. The organization now receives calls from communities across North America that had never even heard of Renewal only a few years ago. Although the overwhelming majority of recipients are Jewish, Renewal has always remained committed to helping anyone in need. Illness does not recognize communal boundaries, and neither does compassion.

The Question That’s Changed Thousands of Lives

Every transplant begins with one simple question.

“Could I be the one?”

That question has changed thousands of lives.

It is also the question that Renewal has spent 20 years encouraging communities to ask themselves.

One of those communities was the Syrian Sephardic community.

Like in every close-knit community, trust could never be expected overnight. It had to be earned. Renewal understood that education would have to come before participation and that relationships would have to come before results. Years ago, when Mendy Reiner and Duvid Shisha first met with respected leaders of the Syrian community to introduce Renewal’s mission, educate about living kidney donation, and seek their partnership, the response was sincere and memorable.

“Our community will help you financially,” they explained. “But you’re not going to get our kidneys.”

It was never meant as a rejection. On the contrary, the Syrian Sephardic community quickly became one of Renewal’s most generous supporters. They believed deeply in the organization’s mission and consistently stepped forward with extraordinary financial support. At that time, however, living kidney donation was still unfamiliar territory for many within the community.

Renewal understood that changing perceptions would take patience.

One of the most significant steps came when AJ Gindi joined the organization. As a respected member of the Syrian community, AJ became far more than a staff member. He became a bridge. Week after week, month after month, he visited synagogues, met with rabbis, answered questions, spoke at community gatherings, and patiently educated families about living kidney donation.

Then AJ did something that transformed every conversation that followed:

He donated one of his own kidneys.

Suddenly, kidney donation was no longer an abstract concept. It had the face of someone the community knew, respected, and trusted. His example inspired conversation around Shabbat tables, in business offices, and in synagogue hallways. More importantly, it inspired action.

Over the years, 47 of AJ’s own friends and family members followed his example and became living kidney donors themselves.

One person’s decision had become a movement.

Without many people realizing it, a quiet transformation had begun.

Families within the Syrian community began witnessing kidney transplantation firsthand. Donors were no longer strangers from other neighborhoods. Recipients were no longer distant stories. They were relatives, neighbors, classmates, business associates, and lifelong friends. Renewal had become more than an organization serving the community. It had become part of the community itself.

Exceeding Every Expectation

That journey reached an extraordinary milestone on July 19, 2026.

Renewal organized a community-wide swab drive on behalf of six members of the Syrian Sephardic community who are desperately waiting for kidney transplants. Each of the six has a different story. Some chose to publicly share their identities while others preferred to remain anonymous. Some had spent years on dialysis. Others are rapidly approaching kidney failure. Every one of them represents a family praying that somewhere a stranger will choose to help.

To make participation as convenient as possible, six swabbing locations were established throughout Deal, Long Branch, and Oakhurst, including The Deal Synagogue, Park Avenue Synagogue, Sarah’s Tent, Ouri’s Market, the DSN Community Center, and the DSN Beach Club. Volunteers staffed each location from morning until evening – uncertain how many people would respond, but confident that every single swab represented another opportunity to save a life.

What happened exceeded every expectation.

The event took place during shavua shehal bo (the week of Tishah B’Av), in the heart of the Nine Days, when the Jewish people mourn the destruction of the Bet Hamikdash. Our sages teach that the Second Temple was destroyed because of sinat hinam, baseless hatred. Every year we reflect upon that painful lesson and ask ourselves how we can help rebuild what was lost.

On that Sunday, the Syrian Sephardic community answered not with speeches, but with action.

Despite the intense summer heat and one of the busiest weeks of the Jersey Shore season, hundreds of people rearranged their schedules to perform a simple act of hesed. Parents came between family commitments. Business owners stopped during the workday. Young adults arrived with friends. Entire families encouraged one another to participate. Some had planned to attend all week. Others simply saw the signs and decided on the spot that they wanted to help.

Every few minutes, another registration form was completed.

Another cheek was swabbed.

Another person quietly said, “If Hashem created me to save another Jew, I want to find out.”

To an outsider, a cheek swab may seem insignificant. It takes less than a minute. There are no needles, no surgery, and no commitment to donate. Yet Renewal has witnessed enough miracles to understand what can begin with something so simple. Hidden within that tiny cotton swab may be the compatibility that allows a mother to watch her children grow up, a father to dance at his daughter’s wedding, or a grandfather to meet another grandchild.

As the hours passed, the numbers continued climbing.

Fifty.

One hundred.

One hundred fifty.

Two hundred.

By the conclusion of the event, an astonishing 261 members of the community had joined Renewal’s donor registry.

Those 261 swabs represented far more than a successful community event. They represented hope for six families waiting today and for countless others who will need Renewal’s help tomorrow. They represented 20 years of patient education, relationship building, and trust. They represented a community that had embraced Renewal’s mission as its own.

Perhaps the most meaningful number from that day was not 261.

It was one.

One people.

Because when someone is waiting for a kidney, labels disappear. Ashkenazi. Sephardic. Syrian. Chassidic. Modern Orthodox. American. Israeli.

There is only Am Yisrael.

Our Sages teach us, “Kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh –All Jews are responsible for one another.”

On July 19, those words came alive.

Hundreds of people volunteered to discover whether Hashem had created them to save someone they might never meet. No promises were made. No commitments to surgery were required. Only a willingness to take the very first step.

Ordinary People Doing the Extraordinary

As volunteers packed away tables and supplies that evening, there was a feeling that everyone present shared. They had witnessed something much greater than a successful swab drive.

They had witnessed another chapter in Renewal’s remarkable story.

Only weeks after celebrating transplant number 1,500, Renewal watched 261 more people step forward, helping to ensure that transplant numbers 1,501, 1,502, and countless more are already waiting somewhere in the future.

That is how Renewal has always grown.

One conversation.

One family.

One donor.

One recipient.

One life at a time.

During the very days when the Jewish people mourn the destruction of the Bet Hamikdash because of sinat hinam, hundreds of Jews answered with ahavat hinam – “baseless love.” They demonstrated that the greatest response to division is unconditional love, that the greatest expression of faith is caring for another Jew, and that the strongest communities are built when people are willing to carry one another’s burdens.

The Syrian Sephardic community did far more than participate in a swab drive. It demonstrated what is possible when education, trust, leadership and compassion come together in pursuit of a sacred mission.

Renewal has now facilitated more than 1,500 kidney transplants, but the work is far from finished. Hundreds of families are still waiting. Hundreds of more miracles are still needed.

If July 19 taught us anything, it is that those miracles begin with ordinary people making extraordinary decisions.

And it has shown us, once again, that “Mi ke’amcha Yisrael – “Who is like Your people, Israel!”

Frieda Schweky

Like so many others, I have wonderful memories of leaving  Brooklyn to come to Deal for the summertime. My childhood memories revolve around those few golden months, moving into my grandparents’ two-story house on Surry Lane, and bunking up with cousins on the weekends when they came in from Brooklyn every Friday. We had an indoor pool, a huge deck where we’d host massive BBQs with friends and extended family, and a large side lawn. That house has been sold and knocked down, but the memories will never fade. My entire  extended family gets nostalgic whenever “Surry Lane” comes up. We all remember the time my uncle Jack jumped off the extremely bouncy diving board (they don’t make them like that anymore, and for good reason) and broke his nose at the bottom of the pool, the whole episode caught on video. We remember climbing the trees in the front of the house and flying down the slip-and-slide. Surry Lane was so secluded from the rest of the community that it felt like our own private island.

I attended Camp Ora with my siblings, and I know hundreds of community members carry their own fond memories of that camp – the soda machines, screaming Birkat Hamazon at the conclusion of lunchtime to earn free canteen or soda, and the mystery trip that was almost always to Hershey Park.

I know most community members also have special summer memories, because migrating to the suburbs of Jersey and bunking up with family members for the summer is an age-old tradition here. So, let’s hear some stories from the good old days. First up is my husband’s grandmother, Renee Esses.

Renee Esses

Renee rented in Deal for two summers before  moving permanently there in 1980. The early years were lonely at times, since her kids were not yet with her. One moved down a few years later, the other not for another thirty years. Renee had spent winters in Midwood Manor in Brooklyn, but her husband could not justify keeping two houses, and since so many of her friends had already made the move to Jersey that it made sense to follow. Back then it was not crowded at all. Renee remembers renting on Poplar Avenue near Norwood and hearing that the house down the block sold for $125,000 and thinking, that’s ridiculous! Eventually, Renee settled on Shadow Lawn, which was a new development, with a mix of Syrian and Ashkenaz families. Renee’s daughter (my mother-in-law) used to move in every summer with all her kids, and although it was chaotic, Renee loved it. The house was always busy, always full. There was room for everyone!  The finished basement was so massive that the kids used to roller skate through it when it rained and they couldn’t play outdoors. They had company constantly. One of Renee’s best friends lived right around the corner. It was a real home away from home. Renee recalled those years fondly, lamenting that they were some of the best years.

Miriam Sabzehroo

Miriam was still a teenager when her family started coming down for the summer. There was so much open land back then, and so many trees – nothing like the density of houses today. Once Miriam had kids, they headed to Six Flags Great Adventure every year. She would even get a season pass for her housekeeper so she could come along and help with the kids. There were also many trips to Seaside Water Park.

Miriam fondly remembers the times her mother took the grandkids (Miriam’s children) down to Allenhurst Lake to feed the ducks while she tanned in the backyard with baby oil, iodine, and a silver reflector.

Miriam’s father never let her buy a house of her own – he wanted the family close, under his roof. She still laughs remembering the summer her brother set off fireworks on the Fourth of July and accidentally lit a tree on fire. The family threw massive BBQs twice every summer. Not long ago Miriam’s daughter found the old VHS tapes allowing them to relive those times all over again. They gathered around the computer at a family gathering to watch the show, with everyone spotting themselves and old friends, reminiscing about the good old days.

Eve Shweky

Eve says Deal is simply not what it used to be. Camp Ora was the best of the best, where such beautiful memories were made. These days, Eve says, there are too many people for it to feel quite the same. The town has grown right alongside the community – every couple back then had four or five kids, and those kids became adults with families of their own, expanding things further still. It’s a reminder of how much this community has multiplied over the generations, from a small cluster of summer regulars into the sprawling, vibrant crowd we know today.

Sophia Cohen

For Sophia, the shift from Brooklyn to Deal each June felt like stepping into another life entirely. Her mother would pick the kids up on the last day of school, and the second they got on the highway, something in her would light up. It was the most exhilarating feeling of the year. The whole rhythm of life changed the moment they crossed into Jersey. There was nothing like biking around Deal as a kid, back when it was so much smaller – the Deal Pharmacy, the 7-Eleven, shuffling around sandy beaches barefoot. Sophia still remembers the haunted house in Long Branch from years back, and the fire at the pier. There was nothing like coming to Deal and feeling so free every summer.

Renee H.

No retelling of Deal summers would be complete without mentioning the Deal Pharmacy and its slush puppies on Norwood – right around where the Wishing Well Apartments stand today. And of course, Camp Ora holds its own permanent place in memory: Billy Madison playing on the coach bus wherever the overnight trip took everyone that year, and those smiley-face “camper of the week” shirts everyone fought to earn.

Shirley Zebede

Before DSN, there were the JCC days. Shirley says nothing compares to those times when your parents dropped you off in the morning and didn’t see you again until dinner. You could spend the entire day at the JCC, whether at the pool, the basketball court, or the J Cafe on the second floor. After that, kids headed upstairs to the teen lounge and dance studio on the third floor, with its couch, a couple of old-school racing games, and a foosball table. Shirley would give anything to go back.

Having always lived in Deal year-round, Shirley remembers the striking contrast between the summer and the rest of the year. Deal was almost a ghost town for ten months of the year, and then, almost overnight, it would fill with a swarm of people. You couldn’t drive because of the bicycles everywhere, rows and rows of them lined up on Norwood Avenue outside J2 Pizza. And then, just as suddenly, the day after Labor Day, you could drive down Norwood and not see a single car – it was suddenly deserted.

Looking Ahead

These collective memories  make one thing clear: this community has always known how to make a summer feel like magic. Honestly, we’re luckier for it now than ever. We have a host of beautiful community organizations behind us today, and many incredible new restaurants.  We’re growing, too – spreading into new townships as more families find their place here. The Deal of the 60s, 70s, and 80s may be a different Deal than the one we know now, but the spirit has not changed. We have good vibes, good times, and are blessed to be a community that keeps finding new ways to come together, summer after summer.

Frieda Schweky is a community photographer, videographer, and writer. For photography & video inquiries or article topic suggestions, email her at [email protected] or follow her on Instagram @friedaschwekyphoto.