I like to find symmetry in life. Symmetry in the sense that there’s balance between what came before and what will come after. In other words, I feel most confident when I know where I’ve been and how far I have to go. On my morning walks, I pace myself by remembering where the middle of the walk is.
Wednesday night marked the end of the first two days of our weeklong celebration of Passover. That meant I finally returned on-line and caught up on some news. Like many people, I was disturbed to see some videos taken when United Airlines asked local law enforcement to remove Dr. David Dao from one of their planes. The trail of his blood left on the plane and his face was gruesome.
This year, I thought it might be interesting to revisit my writings from three different Passovers. Feel free to read them chronologically, although I recommend you read them in the order below, newest to oldest, since they follow a more interesting progression that way. You’ll understand why in the descriptions/excerpts. Chag Pesach sameach!
In younger days, I had a more literary bent. That meant I spent far more time with books than I permit myself now. For my first two and a half decades, I imbibed novels. Dostoevsky, Gogol, Thomas Hardy, William Makepeace Thackeray. Joseph Conrad, Chinua Achebe and Robert A. Heinlein. Ursula K. LeGuin, Isaac Babel and Neal Stephenson.
It doesn’t take much to convince me to take a taste of anything chocolate, even if I’ve made a promise to myself to eat healthier. The same goes for French fries and ice cream. Basically, anything that isn’t healthy for me, but is extremely delicious, leaves me powerless. Too often I end up caving to the craving.
For many years, AIPAC’s annual policy conference has been held in Washington DC. When it first began, only a few hundred people attended the American Israel Public Affairs Committee. This year, there were over 18,000 people from all walks of life.
Have you ever had the sensation of breezing past a department store perfume counter and suddenly conjuring a vivid memory of a grandparent? Or walking into someone’s home and having the smell of dinner carry you away to your childhood?
