I am sitting cross-legged in bed on a morning set aside from others in the Jewish religion in which I was raised. As a child, at this point in the day, I would be in synagogue, wearing a dress, knee socks and black patent leather shoes, while perched on a folding chair next to my father, who would (instead of his work uniform) be dressed in a suit and tie, yarmulke on his curly brown hair, his tallis (prayer shawl) wrapped around one of his shoulders and one of mine (girls and women back in the...
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