The Happiest Animal in the World

The team made its way out to left field for our post-game meeting. There was an obvious mix of enthusiasm among its members. Some jogged, still showing the hustle after the game that their coaches had been preaching all season. Others ambled more slowly than rush hour traffic in midtown.

I couldn’t blame them for feeling listless; we’d just lost 12-0.

The boys knelt or sat cross-legged in the outfield and promptly began pulling out blades of grass while they waited for my coaching partner and me. We exchanged some brief thoughts about who had earned the game ball and walked out to join the team.

“Look,” I began, “I know it’s hard to think about positives after we just lost a game like that.”

A few of the players smiled ruefully as I continued. I mentioned their progress in working together as a team, including some players who played out of position in that game. I pointed out that two of our better players had not been available. And I added that we had played hard against our opponents, who were the best team in the league.

I went on to say that Memorial Day Weekend was essentially our All Star Break. We had passed the mid-point of the season and wouldn’t have another game for a full week. I encouraged the players to come to practice in a few days ready to work, but also to put tonight’s game behind them. I had just finished reminding them that, in our league, everyone makes the playoffs when our starting catcher raised his hand.

“E, you have something to add?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, turning to face his teammates.

“We have to be like goldfish.” Continue reading “The Happiest Animal in the World”

The Sweetest Addition

I always said I didn’t want to get a dog until we lived in a house. I said that having a dog in our two-bedroom apartment already overrun by our two human children was unreasonable. It would be too cramped, too difficult, too inconvenient. My wife agreed – at least verbally – but I’m skeptical if she actually meant it. Even if a verbal contract is binding in the State of New York, I wonder if she always knew we would end up getting a dog sooner than I had suggested.

Then, in March of 2020, our lives turned upside down when COVID hit.

The pandemic forced our children to stay home from school, away from their friends and any other in-person interactions. My wife and I could see our children’s moods changing. Their irritability grew and their anxiety skyrocketed. Our daughter threw tantrums and screamed whenever we tried to encourage her to participate in her class sessions on Zoom. Our son argued when we reviewed his schoolwork and voiced his displeasure at only having weekly contact with his class.

We agreed that a dog would be a wonderful distraction for our family from the tensions of the outside world. If our kids could focus on caring for a new furry family member, perhaps they could forget about being terrified to leave the apartment and interact with the outside world. My wife applied to every pet adoption agency in the city in the hopes that one might land a match. Continue reading “The Sweetest Addition”

7:00 PM

It had been a long two weeks, to say the least.

My day at work on that first Monday was bizarre, from the eerie tension on the subway ride, to the general staff meeting we held on the sidewalk outside the nearby church, to the renewed tension on the ride back home. I spent the rest of the week “working from home,” while also trying to entertain two children who suddenly weren’t able to attend school in person. T was still at work, preparing with the other New York City teachers to spend the next months teaching remotely. We were all home together for that second week. We navigated work and school schedules, limited living space and the circumstances that the pandemic thrusted upon us.

When Friday evening finally arrived, we ate Shabbat dinner together. We sang Shalom Aleichem and chanted the blessings that welcomed in the sorely needed weekly Day of Rest. The kids talked about their online class sessions and asked if school would look the same way next week. T and I did our best to reassure them – and ourselves, honestly – of the most important things: that everything was going to be fine and that we were safe. Whatever happened next, we would figure it out together.

When we had finished eating, the four of us went up to the roof of our apartment building. It was a warm evening, though not unseasonably so, considering it was late March. We admired the blend of watercolors that had begun spreading across the sky and the pleasant start to the weekend.

That was when I heard it. Continue reading “7:00 PM”

The Final Judgment

The mattress was firm, as many were in those days. It was not the most comfortable bed he had ever felt, but it was certainly better than the wooden planks of his study table; he had woken up with splinters in his forehead after late nights of struggling through difficult texts more times than he would have liked to remember.

The rabbi awoke but did not open his eyes immediately. He could feel the sheets hugging his skin and the soft feather pillow cradling his head. He could hear the not-quite-soft-enough whispers of his students who had come to be with him during his final hours and, though he appreciated their devotion and their efforts to care for him, he was not ready yet to force himself to face their despondent and pitying facial expressions. Continue reading “The Final Judgment”

Building More Than Objects at Home Depot

I have a love-hate relationship with Home Depot.

I love the store. I love its vastness, the sheer volume of its products and the shelves that reach higher than some local apartment buildings. I love the smell of sawdust and sweat, the aisles filled with metal, lumber and potential. I love the impulse to let loose grunts of “More power!” that would make Tim Allen jealous. I love feeling my testosterone levels climbing from the first steps I take at the entrance.

But I hate the store. I hate the way my sense of awe shifts quickly to being overwhelmed if I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for. I hate going into an environment where I know I don’t measure up. I hate feeling like I’m wasting the employees’ time by asking for recommendations of power tools or light fixtures or how to install a toilet seat. I hate feeling like the other store patrons can tell that I’ve put so many extra holes in our apartment walls when trying to hang a simple picture frame.1

Facebook would say our relationship is “complicated.” Continue reading “Building More Than Objects at Home Depot”

Swinging For the Fences

He pulled on his slightly-too-small helmet, wincing as he tugged it over his ears. We had been saying for weeks that he needed a new one – he was still using the same helmet he got when he started playing baseball three years ago – but life got in the way and we hadn’t been able to make it happen. I helped him slip on the batting gloves, holding the faded white fabric steady so he could push his hands in. He stretched and wiggled his fingers, adjusting for comfort, and held his hand out for me to tighten the Velcro base. He hoisted his bat out of his bag as we went over the details of his stance one last time. I gave him a smile and a few good-natured knocks on his helmet before he made the short walk to the batters box. He set his feet, bent his knees and lifted the bat behind him, elbow pointing directly back toward the umpire, just as we had discussed.

Three pitches went by and he made the same short walk back to the dugout.

His name wasn’t Casey and we weren’t in Mudville.

E had struck out. Continue reading “Swinging For the Fences”

Keeping Our Kids Safe Online With Bark

I recently became an ambassador for Bark, an app that helps parents monitor their children’s online activity. You can find my discount code here and at the bottom of the post. Still, as always, all opinions here are my own.


I began working with Kayla1 and her family when she was fourteen years old.

She was a lovely young woman. She had a sharp sense of humor, knew how to take constructive criticism (from me, at least) and was self-aware enough to offer her own insights about the sources of her depressive symptoms. She was open about her relationships, both social and romantic, and seemed to genuinely enjoy asking my opinions about the choices she faced on a daily basis. She didn’t always take my advice – what teenager would? – but she always listened. Continue reading “Keeping Our Kids Safe Online With Bark”

The Wonders of Science (or, How to Gross Out Your Child With Education)

When I was eight or nine years old, I wanted to be a scientist when I grew up.

Someone gave me a scientific microscope for my birthday around that time, which was probably one reason why. I would use the tweezers to pull out a hair from my head or tear off tiny pieces of leaves, put them on the slides and examine them. I’d fiddle with the covers for the slides as I tried to figure out how the professionals were able to flatten out a piece of twig between two small pieces of glass or plastic, often breaking the slide covers in the process. I’d play around with the focus and the zoom lenses and pretend I was doing experiments even though, in my head, I was wondering why it mattered what a leaf looked like when it was magnified at 16x. Continue reading “The Wonders of Science (or, How to Gross Out Your Child With Education)”

Isolation in a City Full of Life

The streets were crowded, but not unbearably so. Families of tourists walked slowly, single-file along the San Antonio Riverwalk, keeping their children closer to the wall to prevent an accidental swimming lesson. Groups of teenagers shouted, laughed and cursed at various passersby, enjoying the oyster that was their world on a Saturday evening.

I assumed my identity as a tourist was fairly obvious; I was a lone, white man, dressed in khakis and a blue and white striped button-down shirt, carrying a plastic bag from a souvenir store. I figured people looked at me and thought to themselves, “Oh, he’s not from around here.” I didn’t speak to anyone, aside from the tired high school junior at the store who sold me the books for my children, but no one tried to engage me in conversation either.

Which was just fine with me. Continue reading “Isolation in a City Full of Life”

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