Where There’s Smoke 

We’re not supposed to turn on flashlights unnecessarily. The United States is importing batteries at a rapid pace, but shipments are stilted by the lack of electricity and limited gas power. We’re in crisis mode, and people who waste power for no reason during the Dark Spring are subject to judgment and fines.

But I can see the kids as I walk to work: two little girls jumping rope in the dark, their singsong chanting breaking through the glum dimness. “In came the teacher with the big, fat stick, I wonder what I got in arithmetic….” It’s like a twisted memory of my own childhood, jumping rope with Avital Kruger and singing at the top of my lungs.

I don’t like to think about my childhood. I don’t like to think about Avital.

I walk into Mishkan Ohr and immediately notice a dim glow coming from the conference room. We have a high-tech generator, the kind that works with the minimal gas we get, but we’re meant to use it sparingly. No chesed organization should take advantage, right? Imagine what the neighbors would say if they saw unnecessary lights on.