Dennis Wilen found this and posted it to the Jewish conference on the WELL, my online home
"I grew up in a home with a strong sense of Jewish identity. Although we weren’t observant, my mother lit Shabbos candles, and my father made kiddush over the Welch’s grape juice. And then there was Grandma Rose. She came to America from Romania when she was eight years old and, though she spoke English fluently, I never heard her use a sentence that didn’t contain some Yiddish. There was the Yiddish song she used to sing to me and my siblings, a tragic folksong, really, composed by a woman whose husband had died of tuberculosis. Grandma Rose learned it while rocking the cradle of the woman’s fatherless daughter.
Bubby Maaseh, by Peter Himmelman. Lots there to think about, including the idea of being comfortable being out as ourselves and what that means.peter himmelman