Memory is a traitor. Forty years is a short time in human history, but the attempt to remember exactly what happened in the past is fraught with problems. The clearest incidents are often the most trivial. What we really want to remember remains obscure. So my memories of the early days of European Judaism may not be entirely accurate. As the wife of the founding editor, Michael Goulston, I was fully occupied with running our household and caring for three small children. I did not participate in the meetings where Michael discussed his vision for the journal with colleagues. For this memoir I have had to rely on my memories of day-today conversations with Michael about his hopes and dreams, leafing through early issues of the journal, a chat with Lionel Blue, sadly one of the few survivors of the original Board of Editors, together with recollections of my own role.