On Sunday, April 23, I attended the reunion of Public School #59 at Beth Tfiloh, catered by Milk & Honey. It’s unusual to hold a reunion for a public elementary school and even more unusual to make it kosher! Public school is free and in the ’50s, it was the choice of most Jewish families in the Lower Park Heights neighborhood. But when I became frum, I knew that the best choice for my children was Jewish day schools, regardless of the cost.

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When I was growing up on Shirley Avenue, off the 3900 block of Park Heights, here in Baltimore, I loved summer vacation when, after supper, my friends and I had plenty of time to jump rope and play hide-and-go-seek even without daylight saving time. As the sun was setting, we would sit at the bottom of the high steps leading up to our row houses and play a game called Time.

As a child, I didn’t realize that time really isn’t a game to be tampered with. It’s a precious gift from Hashem to use wisely, enjoying the beautiful world and the mitzvahs He gave us. Now the United States Congress wants to pass a bill making daylight saving time year-round. It’s only an extra hour, but in the winter, it would be disastrous for the Jewish community.

Last week, a tall green plant that I wanted to cut down because I was sure it was a weed gave me a big surprise. My husband, who likes to plant seeds from the vegetables we eat, said, “Let it grow.” Now, I’m glad I did because hidden behind one of the leaves was a shiny green pepper. That plant just took time to bear fruit. There are all kinds of seeds that can bear fruit – like making calls in support of an important new bill before Congress.

When I was a junior at Towson State College (now Towson University), I joined a group from the Jewish Students Association to catch a glimpse of President Lyndon Johnson visiting the John Hopkins campus. I held a huge sign, “Lyndon B. Johnson for President” behind a crowd as President Johnson walked towards his helicopter. He must have seen the sign, because suddenly he stopped and said to the boys in front of me, “Let that girl shake my hand.” Me? The President of the United States wants to shake my hand? After that, I attended rallies for Johnson and got interested in politics. Unlike the dedicated leaders who are running in Maryland’s upcoming gubernatorial primary on July 19, however, I never ran for political office. But I’m grateful to those who represent us in the Jewish communities where we live. Here’s who’s running:

When the editor of WWW asked if I’d like to write an article about shalach manos, also known as mishlach manos, I smiled, and I haven’t stopped smiling. In fact, every time I am worrying about something, if I start thinking shalach manos, I stop worrying (except about getting this article done on time). Why do I smile thinking about, preparing, delivering, and receiving shalach manos on Purim, when it’s such a busy day? I guess because shalach manos is a time of giving. 

When I moved to Baltimore, almost five years ago, I met so many wonderful people and discovered a network of chesed organizations, frum magazines, and well-stocked kosher stores and restaurants. I also found my favorite spot in our house: the window by the kitchen table. It faces the backyard and acts like a camera capturing the changing seasons, animal visits, and other scenes throughout the year.

This morning, as I sit down to a breakfast of a Goldberg’s blueberry gluten-free bagel with cream cheese, I roll up the blinds to the top of the window and breathe in the beauty of the fall foliage. A massive tree with orange and golden leaves rises above my neighbor’s fence and reaches almost to the azure sky. When the sun comes out behind a puffy, white cloud, the leaves of that tree sparkle and dance, holding on for dear life. Other, smaller trees shared by several neighbors still have their colorful leaves, but not the one tree in our own backyard.