I wrote this column because my 8-year-old son asked me to.
He felt it was important to let people know about an experience we shared on Sunday afternoon.
We were headed, in miserable weather, to the Barnes & Noble bookstore on Manhattan's Upper West Side. My other son, 5, was with us - all three conspicuously Jewish, with yarmulkes prominently placed and tzitzis swinging. I was also pushing our 1-year-old daughter in a stroller, while my wife and older daughter, 4, had stopped at a shop window a hundred or so feet behind us.