Your hearty laughs were rare, but you could always make me laugh.You gave me happiness even when you were deprived of it.
If you spend much time looking at online dating profiles -- and admit it, you do -- you'll notice that the No. 1 characteristic men seem to be seeking in a potential match is "attractive." We women (attractive or not) are overwhelmingly in search of "sensitive." For us, Mr. Right is Mr. Sensitive.
How much more interesting the first date would be if we both were to communicate our true emotions. Still, those actual thoughts and feelings are definitely present, whether uttered or not. They're simply bubbling under the conversation's surface; biding their time until we feel more comfortable and trusting with one another.
I'm riding shotgun in Hawthorne's truck, and we're on our way to jump out of a plane together. As the truck bumps along to Perris Valley, I'm having one of those moments where the same word keeps repeating itself in my head: "requiem." Requiem, requiem, requiem. My brain has been saying it all day.
Human voices converge on the same note, echoing a haunting harmony -- arousing complicated emotions.
This has been the buzz surrounding an award-winning Jewish a cappella group, Shir Appeal, a group of college students from Massachusetts, who will bring their hypnotizing harmonies to Orange County's Temple Bat Yahm (TBY) for Shabbat evening service, Jan. 16. The group was named after Tufts University's mascot -- Jumbo the Elephant. The Hebrew phrase shir hapeal means "song of the elephant."
Anniversaries take on lives of their own. The further from the original event, the more laden they become with symbolism, meaning and portent.
An Argentine gaucho lounges near his horse. A Bombay bride displays her upturned palms, filigreed entirely with henna. An Ethiopian boy lights candles with a classmate. A woman poses stiffly in her kitchen in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. What unites these disparate images is that the people depicted in them are Jews, all of them captured in black and white by Israeli-born photojournalist Zion Ozeri.
Ever since I was a toddler, I knew that my grandmother, Lisa Jura Golabek Roberts, was a Holocaust survivor.
As a little girl, Anna* always dreamed of a perfect wedding. Then, at 32, after a three-and-a-half-year engagement, she was ready to realize that dream.
I've been a doctor for more than a dozen years now, and a Jewish doctor at that. I've treated people from dozens of countries and countless cultural backgrounds. Over the years I have noticed that Jewish people suffer disproportionately from painful conditions that are ultimately tied to their emotions.