In American culture and in the Jewish community, too, we get caught up in weddings.
My mom, who started her career in broadcast radio in the early 1970s at the height of women's lib, would tell me that sexual harassment in the workplace used to be totally different.
Every night before my head hits the pillow, I record one blessing from the day on my iPhone notepad.
During this past summer's tumultuous news of hate rallies, terrorism, and hurricanes, I was lucky enough to get lost in a world of letters -- love letters, that is, written from Jewish adults to children.
Close your eyes and imagine yourself in the synagogue listening to the blasting of the shofar, something many of us will be doing just a couple weeks from now. Feel the power of the sound -- the staccato notes, the longer notes, and the really long note -- reverberate throughout the sanctuary.
Personally, I've been contemplating age a lot this year because I'm turning a number ending in "0"—and starting with "4"—at the end of the year.
I saw children and senior citizens from different cultures, religions, races, and worlds -- who lived only blocks apart yet had never met -- come together and connect through their shared humanity.