Why Dreidels Wear Letters — Beside the hearth, Hazel tucked her paws into her striped sleeves and pushed three blank wooden tops away. Read the full story →
Beside the hearth, Hazel tucked her paws into her striped sleeves and pushed three blank wooden tops away. She wanted to join Oren’s spinning game before the last candle burned low, but the tops made a hard little clack that sounded like everyone watching. The room smelled of crisp potato latkes and smoky pine. Above the mantel, the old menorah in the framed winter scene seemed to shine without flame.
Then a coal popped. A blue-gold spark skipped onto the rug, no bigger than a firefly, and bowed to Hazel. “I’m looking for a place to remember,” it hissed softly. Oren, the puppy, froze with a juice box halfway to his mouth. Hazel’s ears trembled, but she picked up one blank top. “Remember what?” she asked. The spark brushed the wood, leaving a tiny glowing mark shaped like a letter.
Hazel spun it. The top hummed instead of clacking, and one letter became four, one for each little secret the spark carried from an old miracle night. Ever since, dreidels have worn letters so a small spin can hold a big remembering. If you spot the tops near the menorah, you’ll know which one Hazel dared to touch first.
