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wasn’t traumatic because it did anything so bad to me. It was traumatic because it still makes me ask myself the question that I hate to ask myself. Because when I ask myself this question it makes me feel like I don’t know something that I should know. It also makes me feel less scholarly because my inner self, the mechanism that is me talking to myself, curses a lot. Actually my outer self swears a fair bit too. I am a Brooklyn Kid and not using swear words when I get excited has never been something I have been able to overcome.
The question that “The Incident of The Israeli Chicken Salad” makes me ask is:
“What the fuck is wrong with people?”
I mean I am supposed to know this, right? I am a trained mental health professional for crying out load.
The Incident of the Israeli Chicken Salad
Here I go, re-traumatizing myself so that you may learn...
The background of this incident is that hirst, I am not Jewish. I did, however, grow up in a religious Jewish neighborhood in Boro Park, Brooklyn, and I am proud to say that I have learned and appreciate the traditions and customs of the Jewish faith. In fact, my very hirst job was sweeping the hloor of a Jewish bakery and the currency of my payment was “rugelach” an amazing pastry bite of Jewish
Staying in Love: Secret Recipes For Making Love Last 91