The candles rest unlit on the Shabbos table
Wax not yet melting, flame not yet glowing
The box of matches sits untouched
The dining room table is set, ready for the festive meal
Chicken, potatoes, and vegetables in the oven
An array of sweets, taunting me on the back counter
Match strikes, flame ignites the candles
That first heavenly bite of challah
We drink from our special glasses
Unplugged from the world, connected to each other
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 8:36 PM UTC
I used to be proud to wear shirts that said, “Happy Challah Days.”
or “Shalom. Salam. Peace.”
But now I only wear those shirts under something else.
I used to be proud to say I’m Jewish or talk about keeping kosher,
Never afraid to answer questions.
Even if it was “Does a rabbi have to bless your food?”
But now I only say something like “I don’t celebrate Christmas.”
I used to go to synagogue without any worries about my safety.
But now I hope that there will be security when I arrive.
I have never lived in fear, but I have always been careful.
I hide parts of myself just because of my religion.
I get chills talking about Israel, when I should be proud.
Even buying horseradish can lead to uncomfortable questions.
It’s not like I wear a kippah in public.
Only did that while I was in Israel.
But I never hesitated to wear a Chanukah shirt in public.
And now I do.
I may think twice about posting.
I may pause before putting on that shirt.
But I still share Jewish content.
I still visit kosher bakeries.
I still fast on Yom Kippur.
I still put up a sukkah.
Our mezuzah still sits on our doorpost.
May 25
May 25, 2026 at 8:39 PM UTC
The orange brick road unfurled
Players jog into the spotlight
Weather undecided between winter and spring
Some fans in shorts, others sipping hot chocolate
Parked in the left field stands at Camden Yards
I shut my eyes and just listened
My first and only opening day
Opened them to see every seat occupied
The Oriole Bird brandishing the flag
Step by step, like a bride gliding down the aisle
Birdland getting louder and louder
Their cheers reaching the Inner Harbor
Hope started in center field that sunny day
Familiar names joined by new friends
Home uniforms shining brightly
Boog’s BBQ permeating the air
First season after Cal’s retirement
A historical adversary in town
The Evil Empire, some would say
A rocket providing the opposition
Darth Vader landed the first blow
Home bats dormant for the first three innings
A grand slam finally gave the Birds a chance
No fools on this first day of April
Smooth coasting from there
Momentum unrolled like the orange carpet
A tight game early, a blowout late
The eighth and ninth flew by
We all stood and clapped at the end
What we knew was ahead didn’t matter
We passed the warehouse on the way out
We were all undefeated for a day
Apr 13
Apr 13, 2026 at 3:21 PM UTC
Scrub the stovetop and the oven
The fridge and the freezer too
Dispose and hide our chametz
All part of being a connected Jew
Run around to buy spices, preserves, matzah, and honey
Even though these items cost more money
We stock up on “bread” crumbs, salad dressing, cake mix, and soda
With ingredients that sound like they were written by Yoda
We eat a green vegetable to celebrate the spring
An egg for what we hope the future will bring
Some horseradish root because it’s bitter
And a bowl of charoset that’s part of the seder
We gather at the table
Inviting as many people as we are able
Telling stories, belting out songs
Hoping the seder doesn’t run too long
The youngest asks the four questions
The seder moves into another section
We dip our fingers, recite the ten plagues
And celebrate no longer being slaves
Stuff ourselves with a big feast
Just make sure the meal is without yeast
Open the door, welcome Elijah the prophet
Search for the afikomen, don’t forget the closet
The sky is dark, the sun long went down
Guests departed, no longer around
Everything cleaned up, house no longer on display
Lights turned off, seder plate put away
Next year in Jerusalem
Apr 1
Apr 1, 2026 at 3:25 PM UTC
Onions pirouetting in the oil,
Eggs set gently to boil.
Garlic, mushrooms, fresh-cut chives,
A pinch of salt, they come alive.
Oregano, dill, and za’atar,
The scent alone is the star.
Turkey, chicken, or even steak,
Season the salmon, cook until opaque.
Sometimes something sweet
Is what we choose to eat.
Cookies, a crisp, or a palmier—
Dust with cinnamon, bake light as air.
We dance in the kitchen
When we cook.
We experiment.
No need for a book.
Learn from the past,
But chart our own route.
One foot with tradition,
No good idea gets the boot.
Inspiration comes to us
From many corners.
Always creative,
Kitchen reformers.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 8:40 PM UTC
The aroma reaches the door
before it even opens.
I already know what’s waiting—
a big hug,
an even bigger feast.
Potato kugel.
Her famous meatballs.
Shabbat done right.
Any night.
Apple cake at the end,
or something sweet
just because.
Served on white and blue plates.
My mother still has them.
Slightly chipped, quite perfect.
I can picture it still.
Recipes were only lists of ingredients.
The magic never written down.
The food stays with me.
The memories even more.
She left us too soon—
but the stories still rise
from the kitchen,
from dinner at Grandma’s.
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 4:17 PM UTC
If you’re a different color,
You still deserve honor.
If you’re a different race,
You still deserve grace.
If you use a different pronoun,
That’s no reason to put someone down.
If English isn’t what you speak,
That’s no reason to make you feel weak.
If you’re willing to disagree,
Freedom of speech should still be guaranteed.
If you’re brave enough to speak out loud,
You shouldn’t be silenced by the crowd.
Let’s not freeze out diversity,
Or make difference equal adversity.
We’re stronger when we come together—
As a society, we can do better.
You belong. You matter.
Let love be louder than the chatter.
Feb 17
Feb 17, 2026 at 7:52 PM UTC
“AI With the Assist”
By Rob Yunich
Whenever I’m in a bind,
And I need some help,
I turn to AI,
Without any guilt.
ChatGPT, Gemini, and Copilot—
If you haven’t yet, you ought to try it.
Don’t be afraid to consult AI,
You might be surprised by the reply.
Like any tool, it’s not perfect,
But with testing, it earns respect.
A thought partner can be a smart approach,
As long as you know you still need to coach.
“About ChatGPT”
By ChatGPT
I’m made of patterns, words, and math,
A map of questions people ask.
I don’t remember yesterday,
But I’m very good at “what if?” today.
I listen without getting tired,
Offer drafts you can accept or fire.
I don’t feel pride, I don’t feel doubt,
But I’ll help you figure things out.
I won’t replace the human spark,
Or write your heart right out of dark.
I’m here to nudge, to shape, to start—
You bring the meaning. You bring the art.
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 5:21 PM UTC
When going to a shack,
You shouldn’t get attitude back.
When you go to the store,
You shouldn’t hear words you abhor.
Customer service used to be the standard,
Now too many actions feel underhanded.
Others deserve to be polite,
This expectation shouldn’t feel trite.
**** them with kindness everywhere,
Don’t be rude, don’t point and stare.
Attitude shouldn’t be present,
Unless they’re choosing to be pleasant.
Disrespect shouldn’t persist.
Is it so hard to ask, “How can I assist?”
Treat others with kindness as a baseline,
And service won’t feel like it’s in decline.
Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 4:20 PM UTC
This is fifty.
It might be quite nifty.
Time can feel a little shifty.
I’m starting a new half-century.
This is puns and dad jokes.
Eat some eggs, even with yolks.
Try new foods, watch my diet.
Don’t love loud noises—keep it quiet.
This is pickleball, Mah Jongg.
Can’t stay up late, can’t wait too long.
Try to be in bed by ten.
Wake up and do it all again.
This is pain in muscles I forgot.
Daydreams of owning a yacht.
Sail away, forget real life.
Still home in time to eat with my wife.
This is reconnecting with old friends.
Not sure where the story ends.
Frequent trips down memory lane.
Still don’t want to be young again.
This is gray hair and cracked skin.
Happiest I’ve ever been.
Saturday night dates at the grocery store.
Life still feels far from a bore.
This is skipping TikTok and Snapchat.
Turns out I’m fine with that.
Try new things, take some classes.
I can’t read without my glasses.
This is the big five-oh.
The next phase I’ll get to know.
A new, older version of me.
And the person I’m meant to be.
Feb 4
Feb 4, 2026 at 7:48 PM UTC