First Person

May 1986. I had moved to Santa Barbara from New York City the previous summer to take the job as Hillel rabbi at UC Santa Barbara. After 10 months in town, I lay awake in bed one night wondering how I would ever find a wife in this small Jewish community. I thought to myself, “It seems as though Santa Barbara is the problem. But is there any woman I have known anywhere in the world who I think might be right for me?” Surprisingly, the answer came to me clearly: my old friend Marian, from England, who was living for two years in New Jersey.

I’m a mom of three children with hectic schedules; I’m also a deputy attorney general for California. And I’m an avid runner, squeezing in my runs before dawn. Having run several marathons, I’ve had my eyes set on the New York City Marathon for two years. Because that marathon relies on a lottery system, it can be difficult for nonresidents to enter; however, I was accepted this year just a couple of days after a chance meeting in New York with someone with whom I had two things in common: a love of running and a strong Jewish background.