NYJW Opinion

Back in my lithe teenage years, I used to Israeli dance with the best of them — that is, whenever I wasn’t nursing a sprained ankle caused by my congenital flat-footedness. OK, I admit it; while I thought I was pretty good, I reminded people less of Rudolph Nureyev than those dancing hippopotami in “Fantasia.” […]

This is the time of year when I usually get depressed. No, it’s not because I have a biochemical seasonal diagnosis. I call it Post Traumatic Grossinger’s Disorder. And I know I’m not the only person who suffers from it. Every year before Pesach, I speak to my cousins with whom my parents, sister, and […]