August 19, 2014 To my distant cousin David, I know your grandfather, Sherman. He is one of my grandmother’s favorite cousins. And while I don’t know him well, if I caught his eye at a family celebration across a buffet of chopped liver, I’d know it was him, I’d know his name to be Sherman.
It’s a Tuesday, 8ish pm, mid-March in Brooklyn, and I am lying on my back staring up at the stars, the Big Dipper and Orion twinkling at me. Well not exactly twinkling. Does this count? Shemaaaa…yisraaa-ehhhl… I’m trying to commune with the universe and my assignment began with the instruction to look up at the
And so, after all these things happened, the god tried something on Abraham. GOD: Abraham ABRAHAM: Here. I. Am. GOD: Take your son, your one and only, the one you love, that Isaac, and get going to the land of Moriah, and offer him up, as a burnt-offering, on one of the mountains there, the
It started with a rainbow. It started with an earth-drenching flood, and then a rainbow. It started with a story. Once upon a time there was an earth-drenching, life-drowning primordial flood, and a white dove, and a simple promise written in a rainbow: Never again. And of course we all believed. Because, well… A rainbow!
That pasta dinner with live music in Bloomington the first night of the residency at Indiana. The big audition I flew back for that never materialized into anything more than a big audition. The unexpected flights and airfare change fees that aren’t deductible because visiting your dying grandmother over and again all winter long is
MOSES Here: I go to the people and I say something like, “Your parents’ god send me to you.” And they say to me, “What’s his name?” So? What do I tell them? GOD I will be what I will be. Say to the people, “I will be what I will be sent me to
This piece was originally written and performed for Storahtelling’s B-Mitzvah Gala in 2011. The version below has been slightly updated. A letter to my mother on the occasion of her Bat Mitzvah. Dear Mom, It’s so inspiring that after raising three children, sustaining a 37 year marriage, and going through menopause, you’re finally ready
In early October I had the great pleasure of co-officiating at the marriage of my high school prom date to his perfect beloved. It was a brisk fall day and the wedding party poured out in patterns of black and white from the colorful chuppah woven from photographs that canopied over our heads. As the