The Kiddush Cup’s Journey
I was born in Baghdad. On the occasion of my birth, my maternal grandmother gifted me with something very meaningful. She gave me a sterling silver kiddush cup. Of course, I was an infant and did not realize the value of what she had given me. I am not talking of monetary value, but of intrinsic value. By the time I was about a year old, we had to flee from Iraq. We fled to Tehran, the capital city of Iran.
We were fortunate enough to have relatives in Baghdad who eventually were able to hire persons who safely delivered our possessions to us. The Kurds were honest, brave, and reliable. They crossed the border between the two countries and eventually delivered all our possessions to Tehran. It was because of the Kurds that my family was able to regain most of our belongings. Amongst my parents’ valuables was my kiddush cup, called Stella’s Kiddush Cup.
Years passed, I became an adult, got married, had children, and a home of my own. The Kiddush Cup moved with me into my new home, becoming a cherished link to my family history. Alas, living in the Middle East offered no stability. We had to reconcile to yet another upheaval due to political unrest. There was mayhem, destruction, and a revolution in Iran.
Eventually, we packed our belongings into a container and shipped it off to San Francisco. After a traumatic journey, we arrived in New York in the midst of a snowstorm, hoping for safety. However, we encountered fear and hatred in the new land. Despite the challenges, the memory of the Kiddush Cup and its significance to me remained strong.
As life continued, we finally received word that our container had resurfaced, bringing back our lost possessions, including my grandmother’s Kiddush Cup. Over the years, the cup remained a symbol of resilience and family heritage, passed down through the generations. Today, it sits proudly in my dining room, a testament to the enduring bonds of family and tradition.