In a daring move, facing mortal peril and all sorts of tremendous adversity, my company will… send out a newsletter this week. (When you read this, it may already have happened.)
Judging from all the desperate e-mails I have received last week (and the swarm I am still receiving these days), sending newsletters seems the worst offense anyone can commit in the world of business. The hype was picked up by large corporations who also started asking for our consent to send e-mail, reinforcing the panic over love’s labour’s potential loss. Continue reading
From the Sanhedrin police records
I am sitting in this cell. Until yesterday, I was the one to put people here. But I’m a fugitive now – at least I was for a few hours.
On the eve of the feast, my master’s lieutenant came to me. He told me to find and watch a certain house in town.
I’m not quite sure what this feast is about. Some spirit or god passing over, or something. I was born far away and my master’s lieutenant bought me off the street in Hebron years ago. Mind you, I don’t even know how old I am. Continue reading
Yes, I had a very painful injury a month ago. Yes, I had to undergo spinal surgery. Yes, it will take at least three months to fully heal. Yes, I am confined to our apartment till then.
I do not have to live in a war zone. In fact, I live in a nice neighborhood of a major city, and I have no problem getting sustenance or clothes to wear. Continue reading
Last night my daughter came to me and said, “I want to talk”. I said, “Sure, what’s on your mind?” “Nothing really, whatever you want”, she said.
She’s turning 13 today.
Without much hesitation, I asked her if she was ever groped or touched in any way that she didn’t want – by a schoolmate, an adult, or by a teacher. She said no. I have reasons to believe her – and I have other reasons not to. My intended message was that she could (and should) come to us immediately when anything like this happens. And I just hope I was not too late here. Continue reading
Engrave their names on a wall
A Jewish cemetery in Central Europe, early 21st century. More than half of the stones are in disrepair. Some are slanted, others are broken. Many are covered in the undergrowth.
There is a sense of finality in the death of those buried here. They were forgotten because no one was left to remember. Those who could remember didn’t choose to forget. No: almost an entire generation was wiped out in forced labor and in death camps – or on the way. Continue reading
The world is becoming a worse place every day, laments a colleague of mine while sipping a casual coffee in the morning. She said this just a few days after Trump was elected, and our PM started boasting how the PEOTUS loved Hungary.
For the few of us who’d prefer to live in a world without hatred, to cherish life and freedom, and maybe to help others, the list of safe places grows thinner by the day. Because when the “people” elect a crook who, with his (her?) every move and action, fuels racism, xenophobia, ignorance, and poverty – our first thought is to go someplace else where our values are not being mocked and derided. Continue reading
You, who are frightened of refugees, immigrants, gypsies, liberals, gays, Muslims, Jews, the poor, and the homeless – you, who are scared that they will blow you up, take your job, rob you, patronize you, seduce you, convert or else kill you, cheat you, soil you – please stop and think a little.
There are many ways to lose a friend. To death, to neglect, to misunderstanding.
I have lost a friend. No, he didn’t die – but almost as good as. What I feel is akin to grief. No, it’s grief, period.
It was one of those tight spots you can’t escape unscathed. We both were forced to make a choice where the right thing was not an option – or so I believe. Continue reading
From Paris, the wind brings the scent of blood again. The sound of machine guns, and bombs going off. Images of massacre. Bodies of people who went out to have a good time, and ended up losing their lives.
The city is locked down as police and army struggle to hunt down the rest of the killers.
Locked down. Behind closed doors. In fear. Not allowed to move around, and unwilling, anyway. Continue reading