Years ago I had this therapist who loved a certain gas station analogy. It went something like this: You keep going to this one gas station and they never have any gas. So why do you persist, trying to get gas out of an empty pump, when just across the street you could fill up your whole tank?
I thought of this after I made the mistake of calling a guy I used to date who consistently stomped on my heart. In other words, he had no gas for me, and yet, I kept trying to filler up. “How are things going?” I asked, after a hiatus of eight months.
From a pioneering journalist to a Jazz Baroness and beyond, all in week two of the N.Y. Jewish Film Festival.
Special To The Jewish Week
One of the most thankless tasks of a film critic is to troll around the depths and breadth of a festival looking for a theme that unites all the films on offer. Of course, the New York Jewish Film Festival’s entries all reflect on the Jewish experience in some way — “Doh,” as Homer Simpson might say — but this year there seems to be a bit more than that going on. Many, indeed most of the films in this year’s festival seem to be imbued with the spirit of a particularly resilient and indomitable Jewish womanhood. Push aside all the Jewish mother jokes, the Jewish American Princess jokes, all that self-defiling “comical” claptrap, and you find that she ferocity with which Jewish women have defended their heritage and their families is a significant reason why the Jews have survived for four millennia.