This is not going to be a sad story, I promise. But it does start out with the process of going through my parents’ condo after their passing.
It is Jewish custom to bless children each Shabbat and on every festival holiday. The customary blessing that parents bestow on their children on Shabbat and holidays is specific to boys and girls.
At the conclusion of Yom Kippur years ago, I attended a break-the-fast at the home of old friends. I loaded my plate with a bagel, lox, and vegetables and ambled over to a conversational group, where I stood munching and listening.
When I think of the word “hope,” one sentence comes to mind: Hope is a dangerous thing.
I don't remember where or when I first heard the statement, and I'm fairly sure it was intended as a warning, but the idea has stuck with me.
Hope is a dangerous thing.