Bubbe

The Bube explained the situation in voluble Yiddish, and made Esther wince again under the impassioned invective on her clumsiness. […] If the family died of starvation, their blood would be upon her grand-daughter's head.

I never met my bubbe, my grandma, the source of all my mother's Yiddish proverbs, […]

I dedicate this book to my late grandparents, Morris and Bala Baellow. My bubbe’s inability to write in English turned out to be a blessing: she pressed me into service as her scribe at an early age.

Once, when I poked my stick in a bed of brown leaves, I found a shimmery snakeskin. When I showed my bubbe, she said I had found a memory of the snake, and that memories were precious.

"I wanna more chocolate, bubbe," said Karl. […] "You heard the bubbe," said Josie. "There isn't any. You act up and cry and I'll give you the back of my hand."