What do Hanukkah and Jewish Luck have in common? To me, they both represent the great do-over.
And here’s why.
As I learned in Hebrew School in the dark ages of the 20th century, the Maccabees couldn’t celebrate Sukkot because they were fighting Antiochus’s army for their lives. (to check, see II Maccabees 10:6-7). The Maccabees saw Hanukkah as a do-over of Sukkot, hence the eight days. Some of you may be familiar with the idea of a second Pesah that’s prescribed in the Torah in case you had to miss Pesah in the month of Nissan. In Jewish Luck, both Alla and Vera seek a do-over of their lives under the Soviet system and they take complete charge of their economic makeover with great success. They also are focused on ensuring their children’s lives are replete with opportunities that were denied to them.
I like this idea of the do-over. As we learn... 
Our book, Jewish Luck, delves into memories. And memories have a concrete existence in the "stuff" we choose to carry with us. Alisa preserves those memories on one floor of her home while another floor reflects a more modern Swedish decor. In her London apartment to which she commutes from Sweden, I'm guessing there is little from the past. When Vera moved to the Cayman Islands, she started fresh and created a home that reflects her new life. Both women like decorating a lot more than I do. Yet, I have an existential dilemma that has become a decorating dilemma. I’m a little worried that if I continue holding on to my memories in the form of "stuff", I will feel like an insect preserved in amber.
Harry and I enjoy a certain entropy in our home. It is a cozy and colorful setting for our lives. However, lately, it strikes... 
I tipped my worn sneakers as I lifted them from my suitcase, checking for grains of sand from the Tel Aviv Beach visited the day before. Proof. My memories were real and not a dream. Digging further down, I sniffed the zaatar (hyssop), sumac, dried apricots and dates for tea. In my mind, I am hearing bits of Hebrew conversation and a haunting melody of Min haMa’amakim (“From the Depths”) by Idan Raichel. Closing my eyes, I can see the vistas of flowering cacti, cedar groves, and rocky hills – pictures moving in and out of consciousness.
What did it feel like to go to Israel after 17 years? It felt like replenishing a part of my soul that I hadn’t realized had been empty. It felt like I was absorbing a vitality that nourished my cells.
Meryll and I made this trip to Israel to attend the wedding of our... 
