“Honor Your Parents” is a salient part of the Ten Commandments we received on Shavuoth. My mother, of blessed memory, always wore a golden necklace with a heart-shaped locket with pictures of her parents close to her heart.

When she would open the locket, two saintly faces looked out at us, my handsome grandfather and my grandmother with her beautiful, kind eyes.

My mother told us of all the good they had done, how grandmother brought meals to needy, sick people, and to women after childbirth. When a military regiment was stationed nearby, Jewish soldiers came to their house for meals, because they wanted to eat kosher. Everyone was served, day or night, at no charge.

The sages tell us that righteous people are even greater after their demise, and that they can intercede in heaven for their loved ones on earth, as in a miracle my grandparents wrought for me.

It happened long ago on a Friday night. Our family was sitting around the Sabbath table after the meal, and I needed a toothpick. Too lazy and cozy to leave the table, I plucked a bobby-pin from my hair and poked at my teeth.

Suddenly, I realized that the bobby-pin was no longer in my hand. I looked for it on my lap and on the floor, although I didn’t hear it fall. I didn’t find it, and realized that I had actually swallowed the pin, although I didn’t feel any irritation in my throat.

When I announced what happened to my family, my sister offered to take me to a doctor. Wandering around, we saw a doctor's shingle. It was Dr. Lockett on South Fourth Street and the doctor was in his study.

He took me in, placed me on the fluoroscope and there it was staring at me, stark black on the white screen, standing upright, right near my heart, or as the doctor explained, between my heart and lungs.

He was very solemn as he explained the seriousness of the situation. The pin must be removed, but there was only one Bronchoscopal specialist, and he was in Philadelphia. As this must be done without delay, he offered to drive me there first thing in the morning — on Sabbath!

He explained that with children and with round objects it is easier, but with grownups it is more dangerous, as a person cannot breathe during the whole procedure.

He gave me a sedative and cautioned me not to cough, as this could push the pin further down.

We came home and told a fib, that the doctor had given me a medicine so the pin would come out by itself. But my father didn’t believe me. He rushed to the doctor and learned the truth. He walked home, shaking from side to side, moaning, “My child, my child.”

As I took the sedative, my mother took off her necklace with the heart-shaped locket with her parents’ pictures, put it around my neck, and prayed, “May my dear parents intercede for you in heaven.”

I started to cough violently, and my mother shouted, “Don't cough, don't cough! The doctor told you not to cough!”

But I just had to cough, and I coughed up the pin! It swam right up into my mouth, and just as I hadn’t felt it going in, I didn’t feel it coming out.

I shouted, “Mother, mother, I got the pin!”

Everyone rushed in, awed by my personal miracle.

When my father went in the morning to inform the doctor that our trip was not necessary, the doctor looked at him and said, “Go to synagogue and thank your G-d. A miracle like this happens once in a thousand years.”

My father kept the pin in a little empty spice-bottle and carried it with him at all times. When times were hard, he’d look at the pin, remembering that G-d can help in every situation, no matter how hopeless.