Every Possible Avenue

Walking home from yeshivah I felt that familiar pit — of what was it? dread? anxiety? doom? — in my kishkes. Would there be supper when I came home? Would Chedvah eat with me or would she just sit there looking annoyed? Would Chedvah even be home or would I have to track her down at one of her sisters’ houses? Would tonight’s conversation devolve into a fight as it did practically every day?

Nothing in my parents’ marriage had quite prepared me for what my own shanah rishonah would look like. Although my parents were polar opposites — my father was soft-spoken and bookish my mother was loud funny and super-talented — I never saw them fighting. Oh yes they discussed things they had long conversations in their room but I never witnessed or sensed tension friction or disagreement between them. Throughout my childhood I saw opposites being attracted to each other and working out their differences in a respectful and loving way.

As a child growing up in this environment I got to build healthy self-esteem with a good balance of optimism and realism. I was always a leader in yeshivah always popular. All my brothers were big camp guys and I was no different. I was head of drama in camp and I ran a big-brother program while in beis medrash. The quintessential all-around guy.