First Person

06/26/2012 | | Special To The Jewish Week | First Person
The dress was perfect. Light worsted yarn woven into glowing blue and green medallions, it fit that elusive category of “transitional” clothing. And, just before Thanksgiving, it was on sale. I didn’t care if it was held over from the summer or orphaned from the fall season. I bought it immediately, threw out the sales slip and put the dress away for the spring. Passover, or maybe Shavuot, I thought.
06/12/2012 | | Special To The Jewish Week | First Person

I hated Father’s Day when I was a kid. In the stormy family stew that was my almost-daily diet, “Father” meant “Sid,” and that meant trouble.

05/15/2012 | | Special To The Jewish Week | First Person

When you’re facing a divorce, you cast about for signposts of your identity. You seek indicators of who you were before, and glimmers of the stronger, more empowered person you hope to become.

In my case, newly separated from my non-Jewish husband, I find myself looking to Judaism for a renewed sense of self. Well, not Judaism, exactly — my relationship with the religion hasn’t changed much. I still go to a Reform shul on the occasional Shabbat, alone, as I have since college.

04/17/2012 | | Special To The Jewish Week | First Person

Many times people ask, “Do you think it’s nature or nurture?” I always respond by telling them that my love for Israel is most likely a combination of both. 

03/27/2012 | | Special To The Jewish Week | First Person

He is a character from a story I’ve read, but I can only recall the description of his humble, bearded image, not the plot in which he finds himself a player. He comes and goes, an apparition here to foretell or forewarn, and each time I see him, that is precisely what he does. 

We share an annual ritual, he and I, in the kosher aisle of our local market. On an inclement February day, while filling my cart with reinforcements for an impending snowstorm, I spot him — without warning — out of the corner of my eye.

03/13/2012 | | First Person

As I sit here in Tokyo reflecting on the first anniversary of the tsunami (it hit last March 11), I recall my surprise the first time a Japanese person thanked me, as a Jew, for Israel’s immediate response to the disaster. It was certainly not the time to instruct that well-meaning person that not all Jews are from Israel — the average Japanese does not make a distinction between them — so instead I proudly basked in the thought of Israel being the first country to come to Japan’s aid with its emergency field hospital.