So goes my promise to write a blog piece a week. It's been at least a few weeks, since I last posted. I am in the middle of writing a piece on Passover with a sense of spiritual turpitude and psychological urgency. If I don't get this stuff out of me, Steve will get a call in the middle of the night that his wife, moi, has been arrested for snarfing down chocolate in the chocolate aisle of the Met Market. I’ll have to lie and say that I saw a post on Met Market Facebook for a Theo’s sponsored, all-you-can eat chocolate buffet at 3 a.m. I might try and pass it off as one-of-those side-effects from 25 years on anti-depressants. In the meantime, I'll give you a paragraph of what I am working on.
Excerpt from Seder Repetition Compulsion–
Why is this night different from all other nights? The simple answer–My dad is gone. Dayenu!
Last year when my dad was sick, Steve and I canceled our chaotic multi-generational seder. We usually fill 6 church tables pushed together into a rectangle that fills our front room. Our house, built in 1925 by a Scottish lumber baron, has attitude–brooding walnut box molding, divided-glass windows, Batchelder tile, plaster walls, a family crest above the entry, and (maybe) a Charles Rennie Mackintosh shower door (Look it up if you like the Arts & Crafts movement). The house is a storehouse of memories for generations of families. Someday the house will be referred to as our kids’ childhood home. We are not the first Jews to live in the house, but I’m guessing that we are the first to hold a seder here.
I'll try to get the piece out soon and let you know where it is. Writing has been going well, despite my huge chocolate cravings. This is truly the first time that I have stuck my pen on the page, and said that I am going to write, no matter what. I have been waiting forever to this thing that I have wanted to do since high school. That's a lot of waiting.