The extreme journey from utter control to complete release of control in parenting is frightening. No one seems to travel it bump-free. It’s more like a free-fall, hitting your head; spraining your ankle; losing your balance, and landing in a heap at the bottom wondering what happened.
Passover approaches like a returning visitor bringing melting snow and sunshiny Sunday afternoons to clean your car in the driveway. Every year it marches forward steadily, predictably. The smells of Passover coming: frying onions, potato starch cakes, hard-boiled eggs.
When you live in your hometown you have this funny dynamic with the people who are your parents’ peers. On the one hand, you’re a fully formed adult and so are they, so to an extent you’re now peers. You might find yourself teaching their children or having them on a volunteer team with you. The previous boundaries get mixed up.
In this age of social media and digital technology, I’ve been having lots of conversations with my friends (via social media and digital technology) about vulnerability. Vulnerability, you should know, is also known as “sharing.” Before the internet “sharing” was something you taught your toddler and it involved trucks and blocks. Now it involves revealing scary and potentially embarrassing things about yourself with others whom you may or may not know.
On the way home from my last trip to Israel, I watched a movie I’ve been wanting to see for a while: “The Women’s Balcony.” The movie, set in Israel, is part of a new genre of film that studies Orthodox Jews and actually gets it right. It’s pretty exciting.