We both grew up in homes where tradition was not saved for the holidays. It lived in the everyday. The candles lit at the same hour every week, the table set with the same care whether there were twenty people coming or four. Alongside it came the stories, told so often we could recite them before we understood them, about the women who carried these traditions across oceans and kept them intact. What we inherited was beautiful in every way but one. The objects themselves were heavy, dated, and a little apologetic. Things you kept out of respect and put away out of taste. We wanted to keep the meaning and change everything else, so we began making Judaica we actually wanted in our own homes. Well made, considered, worth handing down again. That is the whole idea. Our children will inherit these, and then theirs will, and somewhere down the line someone will tell a story about where they came from, and we will already be part of it.