This was written in 2013. My mother died, age 96, at her flat in NW London (UK) in April, 2018. I still make her food. RIP dear Mum and Dad.
My Jewishness is fraught with complexities and contradictions.
Raised without any religion in the North London suburb of Finchley in post-war Britain, it was white-bread, white-collar and Anglo-Saxon all the way. I’ve noted on recent visits, it’s not the case today. Finchley is a neighbourhood where kebab shops, curry houses and the Tally Ho! pub rub shoulders in a multicultural mix.
My late father Mel Schachter grew up poor and tough on the mean streets of Montreal’s Jewish ghetto to become “my son, the doctor” – a profession he once said he chose because “it was the best racket going.” Read more…
