As a young boy, my elder brother Hersh (diminutive version: Hershole), spent a lot of time in the kitchen alone or with Mum. He liked the place and learned in it all aspects of food preparation.
He also liked to be close to Mother, and she to him. During the Holocaust, they got separated ; he as a child of four was put in an orphanage whereas my mother was placed in ghetto Mogilev , Ukraine to face hunger, beating, sickness.
After returning from the Hell of Ukraine, mother and son became inseparable.
Despite his obvious preference for the kitchen, he was not encouraged , though, to choose a culinary profession; it was not considered proper for young men . At that time, young men were persuaded to acquire a technical or commercial line of profession.
Hersh (official name - Herman), liked neither of the above two categories. Besides attraction to culinaria (and to amateur soccer), he had musical aptitudes, and wished to study music, precisely, violin playing. The sad truth was that we lived in a small town with no musical school and possibilities. Culinary professional school or courses were inexistant either. My parents didn't have the means to keep him at studies in another town.
So, he went on studying the violin with a private teacher, and in the meantime studied commerce and accounting to get a certificate that would enable him to start working and earn a living.
Years later, in Israel, he acquired a technical profession too, but lost any ambition for culinaria . He liked to cook for friends and family, displaying his great skills on the matter, but nothing more.
The inseparable bond between mother and son tragically came to an end, in 1998 when Hersh died untimely (at age 58.5) during a tour abroad with his wife. The tragic irony was his final collapse - while watching the Mondial (Soccer World Cup) on TV (soccer being a great passion of his).
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After his death I wrote a few words in all my three languages : romanian, hebrew, english.