“She’s the only one the cat will even come close to.” The Rabbi told my mother in his gentle and slightly raspy voice that exuded wisdom. We were walking down the hallway of the synagogue. His long, white robes glistened with gold filigree. My mother stood in stark contrast, dressed all in black. She wore a tank top, against the rule that shoulders must not show in the holy house, which even reform jews were supposed to follow. This wasn’t a service, though, she would say.

Read More Cat’s Cradling