It was a long time ago – at least 30 years. I was in junior high school and I don’t remember the circumstances. But here’s what I do remember: there was some food that we didn’t want to throw away, and someone said “I’ll eat it, so it doesn’t go to waste.”
She walked into the doctor’s office, trailing behind her mother. The feeling of overwhelm was everywhere. New office. New smells. New staff. New protocol.
Hey OOTOB readers,
First, you may have noticed that my writing style has changed somewhat. See, as of August I’ve been writing a column for the Cleveland Jewish News, our local paper. The pieces have to be 500 words and as I write, I have a certain audience in mind. Then I publish here. Also, I write every few weeks for our congregation’s newsletter. In the past seven years that I’ve been blogging (started in July, 2011) my tone and content have shifted and fluctuated, but I never thought this was the place for “Jewish inspiration” per se. But now I’ve decided to publish those pieces here too. So pretty much you get a mosaic of my writing.
Our community recently sustained a huge loss with the passing of Mendy “Robert” Klein.
When Mendy Klein died, something profound died in this community.
I’ve been doing a lot of traveling recently (Philadelphia last week, California today, Dallas and South Bend in June). Each time, a few day before I travel, I get these benign feelings of travel anxiety. Now, in general I am not an anxious person, so I wasn’t really sure where these feelings were coming from.
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.
Part 1: My Grandmothers
Eat, eat mammele. Ess upp. Groise oigen. Your eyes are bigger than your stomach. Kugel and cholent and challah and sugar cookies. Pizza and fries. Studying for high school finals with a can of Coke and a bag of mesquite potato chips in my room above the garage. Every time. Effortless and guileless.