In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

A Jew in New York Bob Holman Like everybody else, I wasn’t a Jew Until I came to New York. In Portland, OR, The other day, a young Latina asked me If I were Jewyorican. Papa and Bubby Came from Ukraine, landed in Brooklyn, Settled in Harlan, KY, and named my father Benjamin Franklin. My mother, the offspring Of a coalminer, married Ben, the only Jew In town. He didn’t last. Ma remarried. In kindergarten, in Cincinnati, instead Of moving to the afternoon session the second Semester, I stayed in Morning and changed my name. This is the year 5755. In Chinese it is Year Of the Dog. I just learned that the time between Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year) and Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) are the Days of Awe. Moody And gray, with dashes of absolute clarity, I love These days. Cleansing summer’s sweat from the streets Of New York, I always think of the year beginning in September.“That’s when school starts.” A holdover from Youth. This year, for the first time, woo, It’s the real New Year, and I am a real Jew. A real Jew, and a real coalminer’s son, too. ...

Share