My son Zane celebrated his bar mitzvah this past Saturday. And to think I had been worried about a late-season snowstorm.
A week and a half earlier, when it was clear that the coronavirus crisis would force us to make some big decisions, I spent the day holding back tears, desperate for a paper bag to breathe into. The pressure I felt to both adhere to the new normal, ever-changing as it was, and still preserve tradition was immense. How could I look out for the needs of society, and also my son?
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