Pesach seemed heavier this year. I'm not talking in terms of the tremendous amount of food that was consumed or the seemingly endless lifting, bending, scrubbing, scouring and cooking that is part and parcel of pre and post Passover preparations as well as during the chag.
My generation, for the most part, had a very strong work ethic. It came, perhaps, because many of us grew up as children of immigrants and we inherited it from our parents.
The year 2004 marked the 350th anniversary of Jewish settlement in America.
We want people to behave toward us in a certain way. When they don't, we get angry.
Over the years I always wondered why Hashem - the Master and Creator of the Universe - was so machmir - so adamant in having us mortals sing his praises and thank him all the time.
Last week I shared part of a letter by a mother of a chronically ill child.
Birthdays, anniversaries, life cycle events are all times we look forward to.
You would have to be hiding under a rock to be unaware of the sad and drawn-out death of a severely brain damaged woman called Terri Schiavo, whose husband and legal guardian made the decision to have her life-sustaining feeding tube removed.
In the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries Jews in America did not face the level of discrimination encountered by their brothers and sisters living in other lands.
I recently had the privilege of meeting with a support group that consisted of spouses, children and friends of the residents of a nursing home.
This e-mail came across my desk. It was written by that famous writer known as "unknown author."
In very recent issues of the Jewish Press there have been a number of disturbing articles detailing the dire plight of various types of people who have lost their physical or social freedom.
Many years ago, I worked for a school division as a Special Education Resource Teacher.
I recently heard that an acquaintance of mind got divorced for the 2nd time. The marriage had lasted a very short time, but I was not surprised.
Words do not always come out right. They don't always express the depth of our emotions or what we want to say.
My last several articles talked about the common experience for many "well spouses" of juggling simchas and crises at the same time.
We all know them - the sad sacks who seemingly were born under a bad constellation.
I have been writing a series of articles on managing simchas and crises when they occur at the same time.
In a crisis, few of us know how to act. We desperately want to help, but we are afraid of overstepping or intruding where we shouldn't.
As my friend Eve (not her real name) and I started filling our plates at a recent buffet dinner, she commented that lucky for her, her mother wasn't with us.
Last week I relayed Evelyn's story. She is a well spouse who was making a simcha.
The Hebrew word gazayra means evil decree. Sometimes, a government decree is just that - an indisputably evil order, as when Pharaoh of Biblical times commanded the murder of all Hebrew male newborns.
While randomly perusing some Jewish community newspapers this past week, I was struck by the press releases of several Jewish organizations crowing with excited pride about the significant monetary donations they made for victims of the Tsunami.
Dealing with chronic illness when planning even the most joyous of occasions is very difficult, even when there is no crisis at the moment.
For more than a year now, I have been relating stories from and about well spouses. When these stories reflected a common experience, I wrote about them.