I met Meredith through my friend, Matt. I was riding my bike in the hood when he pulled up next to me in his car, with Meredith sitting in the passenger seat. He introduced us, and she said, “You’re cute.” I said, “Thanks. I’m married.” With barely a blink, she asked, “Do you have any friends?” Very forward. No shame. She knows what she wants. Yet I remember thinking, “I’m on a little BMX bike — a man-child doing pop wheelies in the street. What’s wrong with this girl?”
Accepting life's ambiguity has gotten me through a lot over the years, particularly this year, as the extremes of experience challenge any vestiges of hope I have held for things to have predictable outcomes. Say what you will about Katrina and cancer, they can be excellent teachers.
"Wouldn't you rather I be happy than shomer Shabbos?" I asked. It was a seemingly ridiculous question because, of course, every father wants his child to be happy. "I think you should be shomer Shabbos," he replied; for him, it wasn't an either/or question. He lived in both worlds -- interacting with people from all walks of life in his dental practice, going to the movies, playing golf, reading news magazines -- so why couldn't I?
We're compiling the best stories of people who met through The Journal to run as part of our 20th anniversary edition.
OK, I'll be absolutely honest -- I spent this past New Year's Eve alone. Sure, I could have salvaged the situation with a round of frantic last-minute calling, but I never got around to it because I had to go and get into a fight. Fortunately, I was the only one who got hurt. You see, I picked a fight with myself. And on New Year's Eve day, no less. Almost out of nowhere and with virtually no warning, I started in on myself.
Thirty-three years ago an Israeli soldier was killed during the War of Attrition in Fort Kantara on the Suez Canal. The soldier's name was Kobi; he was 19. I think about Kobi every day, and sometimes I don't sleep at night. Thirty-three years have passed, and I still live with it like it happened recently.
The most successful matchmakers in the Jewish community don't want to talk romance.
His own romance "happened so long ago, there is really not much to say about it," Alon Carmel, the co-founder, of JDate.com, the largest Jewish online personals site, tells The Journal when asked for some personal tips of the romance trade.
Carmel's business partner, Joe Shapira, is even less inspiring.
Dear Jewish Journal
So you've finally decided to place a personal ad.Can't believe you waited so long. Just describe yourself, the personyou want to meet and -- Shazam! Couple of phone calls, cafe, Italianrestaurant, and you'll be on your way.