All She Wrote

Taking Japan Personally

04/05/2011 | Elicia Brown | Special To The Jewish Week | All She Wrote

My friend’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “You’re going back? What?! Why?”

She turned to her new husband, her eyes twinkling, her voice teasing. “Japan is Elicia’s Israel,” she said. By which she meant, Japan is Elicia’s homeland. By which she meant: how absurd.

Book Of Love … ’ Tween Mothers and Daughters

03/08/2011 | Elicia Brown | Special To The Jewish Week | All She Wrote

My daughter Talia, animated with talk of gifts and guests and birthday games, grows quiet: “I can’t believe it,” she says, her sunny mood eclipsed by a sudden solemn thought. “Nine?”

Welcome Muddah …: Greetings From Family Camp

02/15/2011 | Elicia Brown | Special To The Jewish Week | All She Wrote

I’ve learned a few odd habits of New York parents. One of them is that, in this fast-paced town, families often wrap up summer plans in February.

When Santa Comes To Town

12/07/2010 | Elicia Brown | Special To The Jewish Week | All She Wrote

My 3-year-old nephew, his voice raspy from a recent cold, has been directing a long-winded narrative my way. I catch only a few words, but they startle me: Santa will be sliding down chimneys, and then there will be presents.

“Oh really?” I say, my eyebrows rising, inwardly vowing to speak with my sister.

‘Maybe I’ll Be Able To Dance At A Wedding’

10/06/2010 | Elicia Brown | Special to the Jewish Week | All She Wrote

Maybe it’s the high heels. Maybe it’s the sky-high spirits. Maybe it’s the smile hinting ever so slightly of mischief. But when I meet Rochelle Shoretz at a downtown Starbucks on a recent bright September day, I’m surprised.

Fast, But Not Furious

09/15/2010 | Elicia Brown | Special To The Jewish Week | All She Wrote

On the holiest day of the Jewish calendar, a time of reflection and renewal, I often find myself fantasizing about bagels and orange juice. By late morning, my thoughts turning ever more frequently to coffee, my temples throbbing from caffeine withdrawal, my belly gnawing from hunger, I begin to snarl. As my stomach growls, so do I. By noon on Yom Kippur, I’m often a cranky mess, anxious and irritable with my husband and children, angry at myself for my shortcomings of spirit.