But the real story begins before the pendant.
In the late 1930s and early 1940s, as Jewish life across Europe darkened under Nazi threat, my four grandparents fled Russia and Poland with little more than hope and the clothes on their back. They boarded ships destined for America, only to be denied entry—and rerouted to Cuba.
There, in Havana, they found unexpected peace. They fell in love, started families and built small businesses from scratch. My grandmother Julia married my grandfather Jaime, and together they raised two daughters—my mother Ana and her younger sister, Ida.
It began with a pendant.
Not just any pendant—but a delicate, hand-pierced Star of David in yellow gold, with turquoise cabochon gemstones on one side, and deep blue sapphires on the other. The Star of David delicately rotates to reveal the beautiful gemstones on either side. No markings. No designer stamp. Just quiet beauty and strength.
It was purchased in Israel in the 1970s or 80s and worn faithfully by my grandmother, Julia Chaika Schwartzbaum.
This wasn’t a pendant born of CAD or cast molds. It was handcrafted—likely saw-pierced from a single sheet of gold—by an artisan whose name we’ll never know. But it's journey from Europe to Cuba to America inspired my story, as a first generation American Jew and second generation jeweler.
But the real story begins before the pendant.
In the late 1930s and early 1940s, as Jewish life across Europe darkened under Nazi threat, my four grandparents fled Russia and Poland with little more than hope and the clothes on their back. They boarded ships destined for America, only to be denied entry—and rerouted to Cuba.
There, in Havana, they found unexpected peace. They fell in love, started families and built small businesses from scratch. My grandmother Julia married my grandfather Jaime, and together they raised two daughters—my mother Ana and her younger sister, Ida.
Then came Castro.
Their lives in Europe had taught my grandparents all they needed to know about what life would be like under a socialist government. Life in Cuba was going to change—and not for the better. So once again, the family packed their lives into suitcases and set out for America—this time for good.
The list of what they could take was small. Luckily, the pendant made it safely out of Cuba. They left on a plane through Operation Peter Pan, a mission that helped Cuban refugees get to America.
My mother was 12 and her sister was 6. Years later my parents would discover they were both on the very same flight out of Cuba! My father, Jacob Cohen, was 16 and immigrating alone. My family all ended up in New York City, by way of Cuba to Jamaica; then Miami and finally to the Big Apple.
Their American dream wasn’t easy...
My grandfather swept factory floors by day and attended Erasmus High School in Brooklyn by night. Despite only having a 6th grade education, he graduated first in his class! On weekends he would take his girls (Ana and Ida) to Coney Island to enjoy the rides and an ice cream.
My grandparents lived in a tiny one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with twelve other members of my family. Life in America wasn't easy—but they were free.
At the age of 82, in a wheelchair and filled with gumption, my grandfather Jaime proudly earned his college degree. My grandparents embodied resilience, dignity, and grit. And above all—Jewish pride.
But they were free.
In 1970 Jaime and Julia moved to Miami to open a "schmata" store called BIG DOLLAR. They sold Levi jeans and iron on T-shirts that said, "My aunt went to Miami and all I got was this crappy T-shirt.” It wasn’t much, but it was theirs. And they were free.
Together Jaime and Julia worked side by side seven days a week. The only days they closed were for the Jewish High Holidays of Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur and for the week of Passover. It was the opposite of work life balance—but they were free.
If you ever met my grandfather, within the first five minutes of meeting him you would know that he had been to Israel 17 times (just short of Chai!!), and he would have immediately asked you in his thick Polish/Cuban accent, "Are you Jewish?" As a young teen, I was admittedly embarrassed by this question and couldn't understand why that meant so much to him.
Then came Castro.
Their lives in Europe had taught my grandparents all they needed to know about what life would be like under a socialist government. Life in Cuba was going to change—and not for the better. So once again, the family packed their lives into suitcases and set out for America—this time for good.
The list of what they could take was small. Luckily, the pendant made it safely out of Cuba. They left on a plane through Operation Peter Pan, a mission that helped Cuban refugees get to America.
My mother was 12 and her sister was 6. Years later my parents would discover they were both on the very same flight out of Cuba! My father, Jacob Cohen, was 16 and immigrating alone. My family all ended up in New York City, by way of Cuba to Jamaica; then Miami and finally to the Big Apple.
Their American dream wasn’t easy...
My grandfather swept factory floors by day and attended Erasmus High School in Brooklyn by night. Despite only having a 6th grade education, he graduated first in his class! On weekends he would take his girls (Ana and Ida) to Coney Island to enjoy the rides and an ice cream.
My grandparents lived in a tiny one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with twelve other members of my family. Life in America wasn't easy—but they were free.
At the age of 82, in a wheelchair and filled with gumption, my grandfather Jaime proudly earned his college degree. My grandparents embodied resilience, dignity, and grit. And above all—Jewish pride.
But they were free.
In 1970 Jaime and Julia moved to Miami to open a "schmata" store called BIG DOLLAR. They sold Levi jeans and iron on T-shirts that said, "My aunt went to Miami and all I got was this crappy T-shirt.” It wasn’t much, but it was theirs. And they were free.
Together Jaime and Julia worked side by side seven days a week. The only days they closed were for the Jewish High Holidays of Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur and for the week of Passover. It was the opposite of work life balance—but they were free.
If you ever met my grandfather, within the first five minutes of meeting him you would know that he had been to Israel 17 times (just short of Chai!!), and he would have immediately asked you in his thick Polish/Cuban accent, "Are you Jewish?" As a young teen, I was admittedly embarrassed by this question and couldn't understand why that meant so much to him.
Living through history—again.
Fast forward to many, many years in the future…October 7th, 2023. A day I never anticipated experiencing in my life. Everything my grandparents went through and their fight for freedom came narrowly into focus. It all made sense. If you aren't loud and proud of your journey and being Jewish, then who will be proud and protect you?
On the 100th day after the October 7th attacks, I posted a photo on Instagram wearing my grandmother’s Star of David pendant—a small but powerful act of remembrance and resistance.
A spark to create
That day, actress and Jewish activist Debra Messing commented on my post. She wanted to know more about the pendant. I told her it wasn’t for sale.
But something in me sparked and I knew it was a sign to recreate this beautiful heirloom piece that is now the crown jewel of my growing Judaica Collection.
With my team, we worked to match the original as closely as possible—same size, same intricate design style—though now brought to life with modern CAD and production techniques.
“Am Yisrael Chai. We Will Dance Again. 10/7/23.”
It’s more than a pendant.
It’s a promise. A prayer. A declaration.
And from that one pendant, a collection was born.
We named it The Hannah Collection, after my mother’s Hebrew name.
A tribute to generations of Jewish women who held their heads—and their heritage—high.
Each piece in the collection reflects a journey: from persecution to pride, from exile to expression, from memory to meaning. Every time someone wears a piece from this collection, they are honoring the legacy and enduring spirit of the Jewish people.
Jaime Star of David Dog Tag Pendant
This vintage military inspired, unisex Dog Tag Pendant is a true statement piece, featuring our signature fluting around the outside border and a dazzling Magen David design with six sparkling sapphire blue crystals or turquoise cabochon gemstones. In the very "heart" of this pendant is a smaller Star of David that is delicately engraved. Just like the Hannah, the Jaime also boasts our signature "Am Yisrael Chai, We Will Dance Again, 10.7.23" on the back. The Jaime pendant is part of our Demi-Fine Collection, and is finished with a gold or silver plating, for a more affordable price point.
For the wearer, the Hannah Collection is a way to say:
I remember. I stand proud. I carry this legacy forward.
It’s proof that what’s old can become new again. That our stories live on through the things we wear close to our hearts. That beauty and heritage are never lost—only passed on.
This is more than jewelry. It’s our story. And now, it can be yours.
