roots roots roots

They always called me and are going on calling me again and always.
Who I am?
A soul lost in Judaism and by meeting many Hasidic in Brooklyn, I am aware that i know nothing about all the cultural heritage. I am learning by observing my neighbors, asking questions to the Hasidic i talked online and in person.
I am a grandchild of the WWII survivors too. I don't know my story. My grand-father died when i was a baby, my grand-mother has a Litvak accent but said nothing and my father closed his door.
I know that i have family in NY and, will try to find them.
I will need mitzvah, many mitzvah to find them because it's like looking for a needle in a haystack.

I started by the beginning, reading 'The Torah for dummies' and asking questions to the writer of the book who replied me in a friendly way. As a kid, i love to have explanations about everything, and, even in the Torah, you can't have all the answers. And Moses is not here anymore to help me too.
Arthur explained me things but some have no more explanations.

What I wanted when I started to talk the the Hasidic community was to be invited for a Shabbos meal with a Hasidic community.
Many of them discouraged me from sharing it with them. they couldn't explain to their wife how they met me. Despite all the subterfuges I could invent for them to justify how we met, they were completely scared. I understood and insisted a little and gave up.
I would like to meet the survivors and listen to their stories but it could be very painful.
They advised me to go to the Lubavitch Headquarters or Chabad centers. They are more 'open-minded' to receive people at their tables.
But i prefer when it's more complicated: Satmar, Bobov, Pupu… I want to talk to these ones.
I spent time in Williamsburg, walking or passing by car with a friend. I was surprised to see all these men in black walking in the streets very late. Another city which never sleeps in another city which never sleeps, but not for the same reasons.
A big smile on my face, going down and up in Lee Avenue and the streets around, I was trying to talk to them. A few dared to look at me in the eyes, many walked along the walls, avoiding me.
The women looked at me and especially my shoes.
I love the way men run to the shul with their 'pillows'*, nothing exists around them.
They are focused on their way.
I would like to follow them, to ask many questions. I am intrigued the way they feel God, their only true love…



*tallit bags