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Do I have that same kavod? Though I’m dressed more appropriately, I’m watching from the sidelines and can’t even manage to be wholeheartedly present

I resisted the crazed urge to call out to her, to yell for her to stop, to take me, a perfect stranger, along with her

I mean, I wear this stuff, it’s my unique style, but would my students get it? I need to be new and fresh, hip and cool, right?

But then again, the ring stays on my finger while funds come and go. I’ve learned that the hard way

Yes, we needed yeshuos, but were we supposed to actually scream about it, cry about it, publicly?

Now, suddenly, on this night before bedikas chometz, my old father has reappeared. The father who knew us, who loved us