I\’m almost fully pregnant. There\’s not much for me to do. We\’re about two weeks away from having a baby girl and I haven\’t gained a pound. I feel fine. Never better. Thanks for asking.
What is a friend? When I was a kid, the requirements were none too stringent. Is he in my class? Can I ride my bicycle to his house? Do his parents have any insane \”not too much candy before dinner\” rules?
As I got older, other factors became more important. Do we root for the same team? Are we willing to lie to our parents for each other? Does he have a bong?
Now that I\’m one half of a couple (actually, 49 percent when it comes to decision making, 51 percent when it comes to heavy lifting) friendship is trickier. Are our children the same age? Do our families have comparable incomes? Do they have a bong?
It\’s got to be one of the toughest marketing problems of all time: selling Orthodox Judaism. You gotta hand it to Chabad. They\’re making amazing progress, especially when you think about what an unmarketable name they have to deal with: Orthodox Judaism.
In 2002 I wrote \”Tropical Depression: Lost in Paradise,\” an essay about my misadventures as a newly minted
expat. It was published about six months after I arrived from San Francisco to tiny, rural La Fortuna de San Carlos, Costa Rica.
Relocating to Central America seemed like a good idea at the time. The previous year, I\’d spent an idyllic six-week vacation here. So why not make the move? It was only after I arrived that I remembered that \”Vacation Life\” and \”Real Life\” aren\’t the same. By then, it was too late to turn back. I had an empty bank account and a bungalow full of stuff I\’d paid dearly to ship from the States.
I also failed to anticipate the experience of being the only Jew in town. I\’d always lived in communities that were primarily non-Jewish, and since my level of observance tended to ebb and flow, it wasn\’t a problem. There were always shuls, Jewish organizations and businesses available to me when I wanted them.
From the beginning, even before it was famous, \”The Apprentice,\” Donald Trump\’s reality TV show, had piqued my interest — but not enough to make a standing engagement with my TV set whenever it was on.
I am the Shiva Guy. When a member of my temple\’s congregation loses a family member, it is my job to take prayer books to the
house of mourning, where at least 10 people of bar/bat mitzvah age or above pray twice daily. And eat — mostly bagels, lox and cream cheese and fruit, but those particular menu items aren\’t mandatory.
During my genealogy research I was surprised to learn that my great-grandfather was a real scoundrel. While it\’s impossible to know what was happening inside of his head, I\’ve found clues that give me a better understanding of who he was.
My son attends Hebrew day school. At least, I think he attends it. It\’s October and he hasn\’t been there for a full five-day week yet.
As a journalist in the Yom Kippur War, I came upon a Patton tank company refueling behind the Israeli lines in Sinai during the last week of fighting.
It was about this time last year that my 2 1¼2-year-old son decided to begin his terrible twos. At first we hoped that we\’d been given a reprieve, but we soon discovered otherwise. He was apparently intent on making up for lost time.
More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.