Who Will Write Our History?

I saw a documentary a few weeks ago at The Museum Of Jewish Heritage: A Living Memorial To The Holocaust. When the screening was over, I left the museum and looked around me carefully to see who was nearby. Were there crowds of people of any kind, Free Palestine graffiti or t-shirts or anything else I would need to be careful navigating on my way to the garage. Then I checked myself... could anyone immediately tell I was Jewish? Could they tell by my clothes or jewelry or by anything I might be carrying? I had a lot of thoughts about this very post and I started recording them into my phone, but never within earshot of anyone else. 

10/7/26

It’s three years since life as I knew it changed. I haven’t gotten to that part of my story on here yet. It’s harder to tell than I first thought.

I happen to be on a flight with strangers today, feeling myself to be in a metaphorical world with strangers too in which people are actually celebrating today or others just have no idea what others of us are experiencing. An entire tribe in mourning and others just living their lives or dancing.