My senior year of high school coincided with the Iranian revolution. Ettefagh (which means unity in Persian) Jewish day school had been the epicenter of my life during my formative years. My friends and I spent the innocent years of primary school and the boisterous years of high school together.
Israel supporters don’t have to love Israel the same way, but we each can have, as Rabbi David Hartman once said, “a heart with many rooms.”
Whereas the Saudis and the Jordanians flat-out refused a landing, Israel said ‘yes’ to a hijacked plane from Iran, the world’s number one state sponsor of terrorism.
I didn’t know it was wrong to say things about other kids. I didn’t know that in Judaism, it was up there with murder.
As it goes, so goes with it my heart although it is impossible to pave over my memories.
When I gave birth four months ago, I thought the new baby would be just like my first one. But I quickly learned that she wasn’t.
The combination of President Biden’s low approval numbers and historical trends in midterm elections that strongly favor the party that does not hold the White House makes the Democrats’ goal a difficult one, even under the best of circumstances.
Within walking distance of my Los Feliz home at this moment, seven establishments, not including restaurants, are serving coffee tailored to a specific segment of our hipster, caffeine-addled population.
We grieve the 6 million Jews, and then we do something Jewish in their honor. What better way to ensure we’ll never forget?
April 29, 1992 marked the day that I lost all faith in “grownups.”