5781 can’t come soon enough. Sept. 19 we will usher you down the aisle to a picture show smacking of our days before using lysol or drinking it was a choice. We are up to dreaming in turkish about episode 1,025 and waiting patiently till we can take toothpicks on the way out of a restaurant. We will pray to Hashem on zoom and make certain he knows now, more than ever, we were never more serious about Sacrifice and Tashlich.

Pre-existing notions – is the condition!

To remove healthy breasts or not? As we walked over to 69th Street from 72nd street early one June morning 10 years ago, I remember the sense of certainty as familiar as the iced coffee I just drank this morning.
We were entering an outpatient facility that was going to shortly be discarding, albeit healthy, breasts that were a vehicle for a potentially
deadly, deleterious genetic mutation
BRCA 1. The “founder” gene increases the risk for growing breast cancer up to 87 per cent. “If you opt for a double mastectomy you lower the risk to under 5 per cent.” Words my doctor said to me 6 years prior to my having the procedure. One in 400 people in the general population in the United States and 1 in 40 woman of Jewish Ashkenazi decent carry this mutation. A piece of mine and my families bad luck presented itself this way.
Fast forward to last eve and Kayleigh Mcenany (press secretary’s) speech. She revealed in a much less peripatetic way than her Barbie Doll, speed talking style, that she was also a carrier of a mutation. She carries the BRCA 2, different distinctions. We were prepared to hear more noisy rhetoric supporting the demonic despot at the helm of our United States of America. Mic drop, we listened carefully. Our beloved country is no longer recognizable compared to our childhood days of playing hopscotch and hide and go seek on the “safe haven” of our block. We knew the street’s as extensions of our homes. Our playgrounds outside our front doors. A far scream and shout out loud please G-d, from the street where an innocent man, father of three was brutally shot 7 times in his back, on his streets. Because why? We are segregated in ways that are as far from being resolved as ever.
Genetic mutations cross barriers of race and religion. Bigotry, hate and violence do now, more than ever. When we back up our prayers on i cloud let us beg that November 3 will be a beginning to redefine our Land of the Free Because of the Brave!

Children of a Lesser G-d

It is June 2025 and I am getting ready for my high school graduation. I am graduating with honors and excelled at the top of my class in creative writing. I was bestowed the honor of delivering a speech on my take away of the Covid-19 virus that plagued the world in 2020. It is 5 years later and although it took the better part of 2 years until the eye of the storm subsided, we were left with a brave new world. The last five years have defined our world and my youth in ways that could never have been believed with no preparation in site. We were human shock absorbers. In guinea pig fashion we were isolated in our own boats navigating a storm flooded with fear, rage and no real answers. The virus knew no limits and left it’s mark on millions of innocent bystanders. We never knew if it was our turn to suffer on the front line of battle. We spent time dodging bullets, while baking blueberry pound cake with our siblings in lockdown mode. There were months on end where no expiration date was just that. As 13 year olds while forming friendship’s was top of mind, we were concurrently learning to fight an enemy that could come from around any corner, on any block. The streets crowded with people wearing masks was a clear visual of the enemy at hand. As lucky kids, the worst we knew was strep or a wrist sling from breaking a fall on the basketball court. Yet, we came to understand we were now dealing with deregulating the rules of the health cards as we knew them. Belly aches, scrapped knees and irritated gums from braces were mere annoyances compared to what we were up against. Fast forward and with no braces in sight, I am dressing in a new suit and sporting a tie decorated with happy faces. We survived and are thriving as a vaccine and maintenance program is in place. While overcoming an act of G-d, and a human disaster that has left us with emotional scars, I will address my graduating class today with honor. I will look in the eyes of my friends and know we developed strong friendships in spite of the scariest of times. My take away dear friends is if anyone one of us falls a little behind, we will wait till you catch up. We all started behind the starting line and emerged stronger and knowing together is “hashtag” better.

On the Precipice of…

”Men make history and not the other way around. In periods where there is no leadership, society stands still. Progress occurs when courageous, skillful leaders seize the opportunity to change things for the better.” Harry S.Truman
Cut to “Disclosure – soon to be the tell all published by Michael Cohen. A.K.A. Donald Trump’s previous friend/lawyer, now on house arrest.

“From golden showers in a sex club in Vegas, to tax fraud, to deals with corrupt officials from the former Soviet Union, to catch and kill conspiracies to silence Trump’s clandestine lovers, I wasn’t just a witness to the president’s rise—I was an active and eager participant.”

A favorite quote of ours is: When you completely trust a person, without a doubt, you’ll automatically get one of two results- a Friend for life or a Lesson for life.”
When the most disconcerting of sounds clamored through our grade school and we were told to get under our desks and practice taking shelter in case of war, we never quite understood the enormity. Well, we are no longer practicing and we are hiding big. In pen pal fashion we would walk to the corner, mail our letter and wait eagerly on our front stoop for the postman to see whether our new BFF wrote back. The theft of time has fast forwarded 60 years and we are mirred in the depths of danger. Nightmares realized, and how, just how do you explain to a grandchild what a golden shower is. Come out, come out wherever you are, sign your name with a Blue Pen, swear to tell the truth. This time there are no pinkies involved, we are at the Emis of life.

Baby Steps to Victory!

Relief in a “don’t let the door hit you in the butt way,” was our reaction to Kamala Harris becoming Joe Biden’s running mate. In a minute and for the first time since Jan 20, 2017- (yes Donald, you schmuck,) the year was 2017 not 2018- we sighed, cried and felt possibility. There is no magic fix for the tragic mistakes in judgement by our misanthropic despot, however “Hope” is the elixir we prayed for and it feels magical. Just for today, let’s embrace possiblity with the huge hugs we have missed for 6 months. Take your baton out of storage, shine your penny loafers and gear up to walk over to the post office for your mail in vote for Biden/ Harris 2020.

Some light on the Piazza

Let’s trace it on our folded hands in prayer. We own so many memories and with so many dreams still to be realized we will pace the floor for 87 more short days. Pathological non-truths transported through irrational rhetoric have led the way beyond the expiration date. Scientific facts and facts alone will stand center stage. A modern day John Wilkes Booth with a derringer has house seats on Nov. 3. Get ready Andrew Johnson a.k.a. Joe Biden the reins are waiting for you and then, only then will one of our still to be realized dreams come true.