We were again privileged and honored to be received by our dear Rebbetzin at the Rebbe and Rebbetzin’s home on President Street. We spent over two and half hours with the Rebbetzin. The Rebbe is generally not at home during those visits; he is hard at work in 770.

The Rebbetzin seems to gain in stature and charm every year. She receives regular letters from our daughter-in-law, Susan. She said, “Susan is a very wonderful, wonderful girl.” (She once referred to her as a “wonderful kid” and explained to me that this is an American term!)

I told the Rebbetzin how disappointed I was that the Rebbe had discontinued having his Yom Tov meals with his chassidim. I missed those “private and homely gatherings.” On the other hand, I was extremely delighted for the Rebbetzin’s sake: after all those years she, finally, had her husband with her for Yom Tov. It must have been a real mesiras nefesh (self sacrifice) for her all those years, all alone without her husband (her Rebbe) at her table.

The Rebbetzin always asks about our grandchildren. Susan had sent photographs for her, too, which were very much appreciated.

The Rebbetzin told us (what the Rebbe had already told us at the yechidus) that the Rebbe had brought Roselyn’s letter about the apartment home, to show her. The Rebbetzin said she was very pleased that Roselyn had written such a nice letter to the Rebbe.

The time passed very quickly, but we had the pleasure of visiting the Rebbetzin again for another hour or so before we left for home.

Just before Shabbos, there was a knock on the downstairs door of our apartment. When I opened the door, there was Mr. Halbershtam. (Even he had tried to gain access into our flat. This was a real test of security. If Mr. Halbershtam could not get in, then no one could.) There he stood with a parcel. It was a Shabbos gift from the Rebbetzin, a lovely cream cake. It looked delicious and as sweet as our dear Rebbetzin. It was very gratifying to be reminded that someone was thinking of us. It really made our Shabbos perfect. We did think of taking this cake home for our grandchildren, but we could just imagine little Pinchas, aged one-and-a-half years, welcoming us with open palms and face, and our other grandchildren going around their houses with their little fingers and faces full of creamy and sticky cake. We would surely get no thanks from Hindy and Shmuel, nor from Avrohom and Susan. So, we had a good time and ate it all by ourselves. It was delicious.