The Comeback Kid

I remember sitting in my room, 13 years old, listening to my parents argue. They were fighting about my bar mitzvah again.

We lived in Las Vegas and we weren’t at all religious, but my dad was Israeli-born, very spiritual, and a firm believer in Hashem. He thought a bar mitzvah was important; my mom didn’t want to push me. She knew the last thing I wanted was a bar mitzvah.

This time the argument wasn’t even about whether or not I would have a bar mitzvah. It was about why it was even a question.

The door flew open and my dad appeared. “Shawn,” he demanded, “You want a bar mitzvah, right?”