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It's Passover time (which is the translation of this blog entry's title), and the Hebrew words for "Passover time" remind me of the name of my favorite candy bar when I lived in Jerusalem for the year in 1985-86, "Pesek Zman," which meant "Time Out."
well enough to be there. I remember when Zoe was old enough to sing "The Four Questions," and I became no longer the youngest at the seder (it's the role of the youngest child to sing them); that was a decade ago.
Back then, no one, yet, had the host of very serious health challenges that our family has been enduring. 9-11 had not yet happened and the United States was not yet at war in Iraq...
Zman Cherutaynu (The Time of Our Freedom)
..And in parallel -- because there's always joy with pain in my experience -- our gorgeous, twin nephews and godchildren Max and Sam had not yet been born; our sitar-star nephew Zach had not yet discovered his talent; our bindaas niece Zoe had not yet been accepted at LaGuardia Arts High School; Pat had not yet retired and gone on to do essential volunteer work; and I had not yet gone to grad. school or done as much as I have by now in my work; or launched this blog.
Passover is all about Zman cherutaynu -- from slavery in ancient Egypt. Even as my mother is enslaved to her necessary accident recovery period at this time, I need to think about freedoms I am free to celebrate, including expressing myself on this blog, and its accompanying delivery of serenity.