Un-Jewed
On my father’s final trip to Budapest, he showed me the very place he thought he'd left Jewishness behind forever. He hadn't, and as I grapple with Gaza, I wish things were different.
I remember it like it was yesterday, though it was half a lifetime ago.
October of ’96; Budapest cinematic under unrelenting rains. Seated beside my father in the back of a hired car, the mood was thick and difficult to parse. We were here on a grim farewell tour to say goodbye to friends and family. It was …
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