This time, the eitzah is my own. I’m the activist here, and you get to listen
Writing an opinion column for a popular magazine has several perks.
Here is something that is not one of them. I sometimes feel like a sheimos box for people’s ideas, the community-saving solutions developed over kiddush or a Shabbos meal.
The idea-developers carry these grand ideas around, and then, when they find somewhere safe to deposit them, they do so, feeling like they discharged their duty to society.
I already know the look, the glee in the eyes of the guy about to finally take the weight of the idea off his shoulders and shift responsibility to someone else — now, he can go back to reassure his shvogger/kiddush buddies/fellow think tank members that it’s being worked on.
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