Marking milestones
Anniversaries — milestones — are funny things. We’re on a plane, headed to a tropical island to mark, with joy, a happy day that took place a decade ago. We still have hours of breathing in the airplane’s stale oxygen, before we can take in the Hawaiian breeze, but we’re already celebrating. I’m balancing a glass of passion fruit juice on the tray table, my toes are freshly painted, my suitcase is brimming with swimwear, tank tops and flip flops. And all of it, from the juice
Lucky Fraud
I just got off the phone with the subject of my next book. We schedule hour-long calls twice a week, and these have become my favorite moments of the week. He simply shares his experiences as a Jewish kid growing up in a primitive Iranian village, and I listen with wide eyes and occasional gasps. The theme of many of his stories is how, in the face of utter hopelessness, God provides. Right when he thought he might just starve, someone gives him a free meal. Just when he thin
