“Leig nisht dein hant in tash,” my father tells my son. It’s like my own childhood all over again. Hands in pockets were always considered wrong. It was never explained.
It’s Friday night and the three of us walk home…
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“Leig nisht dein hant in tash,” my father tells my son. It’s like my own childhood all over again. Hands in pockets were always considered wrong. It was never explained.
It’s Friday night and the three of us walk home…
Tags: children, conforming, family, tradition
Posted in Essays, Reflections | 33 Comments »
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