There are some mementos that you can’t really put away. Others that you don’t quite know what to do with. I stick those mementos in the middle drawer of the living room cabinet.
When there are so many limits on what you can write about, what can you write about?
The beauty of the Hebrew, the imposition of the commandment, and the laughter of the night, tie us together. I I forget everything; the picket lines, the ugly words, and the deep, searing, inner heartbreak of a people that have failed me.
The ticking reminder of time nuzzles against my ribs. Slow down, it says. Do less, take in more.
What might happen if instead of seeing any particular political stance, affiliation or agenda, we saw a Jew? A person? A soul?
There is a point at which weird turns into nerdy, and nerdy turns into not cool. I have crossed that threshold.
I know Gershon Legman held the opinion that limericks were not meant to be clean, but this is a family post, so, sorry! Or, you're welcome!
A response to the nonverbal cues of uncovered women.
