GENERATIONS MAGAZINE
Laughter, smiles, and companionship; that is what friendship is all about. For some children with special needs, however, making friends can become difficult at times.
Rabbi Avraham Mintz of the Chabad of South Metro Denver began receiving requests last year from parents of special needs children to provide programs for them. Rabbi Mintz acknowledged the issue and began to research what he could do to help these kids.
What he found was an international organization called Friendship Circle.

GENERATIONS MAGAZINE
THE word itself — aliyah — is loaded with significance. Translated from Hebrew into English, it means to ascend, or go up.
In terms of Zionism, it is a concept expressed as a lofty ideal or noble aspiration — the act of moving from the Diaspora to Israel — and has long been symbolically festooned with social, ideological or religious connotations.
Its opposite is yerida, to descend, or go down, and those who make the decision to leave Israel in favor of other p...
GENERATIONS MAGAZINE
Eric Blackwood knows a thing or two about imagination — not the kind that inspires great literature or art but allows him to soar in a wheelchair and reach for a cure that doesn’t yet exist.
Eric, who turns 16 this August, is a teenager in every respect. He thinks about girls, loves the Avengers, routinely debates his mother and wants to be a mental health counselor.
He just can’t talk, walk or control his bodily movements — all the activities non-disabled peopl...
Dorothy Feldman Cohen, 94, sits on a high-backed purple chair in her living room. A regal repository of Denver Jewish history, she politely dismisses the spotlight enveloping her this morning.
“I didn’t think this would be about me,” she says, an infectious burst of laughter elevating her gravelly voice a few registers.
Dorothy has always been identified with Feldman Mortuary, a family legacy she inherited, perpetuated and personifies.
Turn the spotlight on her, and Feldman catches the ...
A week after returning from her mother’s funeral in 1985, Anne Gross received a package at her home in Denver. She carried it to the kitchen table, opened it and swallowed her disbelief.
The package contained journals written by her mother chronicling her lifetime battle with polio and its attendant shame — raw emotions she never shared with her
daughter. Carol Rosenstiel contracted polio in 1927 at the age of two. Paralyzed from the waist down, she married, had two children, mastered the ...