My Bar Mitzvah

I have always felt blessed beyond words. I was born into an amazing family full of love and support. I never felt alone or lost in terms of my daily existence.

I had parents who were always consistent. They never had a do as I say but not what I do attitude. They loved and they lived with integrity and honesty and would never do anything that could be misconstrued as not being the right thing.

My parents were proudly Jewish and they never hid it. They weren’t Orthodox and my Dad never wore a yarmulke every day, but I rarely saw him out and about without his head being covered. My Mom kept a Kosher home and sent us to Hebrew school when we were kids. Our home wasn’t glatt kosher, meaning on occasion food items came in without a Hechsher (or Kosher certification), but there were never any items with pork or gelatin or meat products brought into the house.

As I grew up I appreciated living in a Jewish home with a sense of tradition and respect for where we had come from and what we had to do in order to maintain our Jewish identity. My Dad made a concerted effort to go to Synagogue every Saturday morning and I proudly went with him.

There were boys in my class who went to Junior Congregation every Saturday, but as soon as they had their Bar Mitzvahs they stopped. Some of them renounced their Jewish identity in later life, which was their…