Humans of New York is one of the few social media accounts that both has over 11 million followers, and a consistent, heartwarming, positive comments section. The owner of the account, whom I know only as Brandon (I’m sure he has a last name somewhere), finds and showcases human beings whom we discover are both completely ordinary and astonishingly special. He takes their pictures and writes up their stories in their own words. Sometimes, he writes these as multiple parts in a series, dropping them slowly and carefully over a day or two like a long-awaited dessert.
In Cleveland, as in many other Jewish communities, there’s an organization called Bikur Cholim, which helps Jews struggling with illness, in a stunning variety of ways. Cleveland tends to attract members of the tribe from all over the world, thanks to our award-winning hospitals, and Bikur Cholim supports them with kosher food, rides, housing, and services you would have never even thought you needed. It’s an astonishing display of Jewish kindness during a person’s most vulnerable moments.
“Castle Hill” were the magical words of my childhood. For years, my family and I rented a small bungalow in what we called a “bungalow colony” in the Catskill Mountains in New York State—one colony of many populated by Jews living in “the city” (Brooklyn and Queens) and seeking to escape to, literally, greener pastures.
Recently I’ve been following an Instagram account called, “I Was Supposed to Have a Baby: Jewish Fertility Support.” Which is somewhat odd because infertility, thank God, is not one of my challenges. But many of the posts and stories are really resonating with me despite the fact that my life challenges are completely different.