Friday, October 10, 2008


Around this same time last year – the time of the celebration of the Jewish New Year – I took stock of the previous year and the year ahead. When I wrote then, I did so with a sense of comfort and self-confidence. Twelve months later I write in the midst of upheaval and transition – living in a new city, working at a new job, and in between apartments. While I continue to pack my lunch every day and remain active in the causes that inspire me – as I promised I would last year – I feel for the first time in a long time like a drifter still settling into this new stage of life while trying not to let go of the life and friends I enjoyed so much during my seven years in New York.

Looking back over the last twelve months I can be extremely thankful for my grandmother’s improved health. My gratitude is dampened however by the loss to cancer of several close friends’ parents; a loss that’s even harder to bear because I think of their families as so much like my own. On a more positive note, this past year included two significant milestones – my graduation from law school and my 30th birthday. Those two events and the fact that I’m now back to work instead of living the – if I dare say – “bohemian lifestyle” of a law student, have contributed to me feeling like the responsibilities of adulthood and of making grown-up decisions about my life, career and residence are beckoning at me just over the horizon.

When I originally moved to New York after college, I had a group of close friends already in the city. Over time my cadre of close friends only grew. Even though New York is a big city I never felt lonely or lacking “go-to friends,” those friends that I feel comfortable hanging out with pretty much anytime. While my family roots are in D.C and the people I’ve met have all been extremely friendly, it’s hard being in a place where even though everyone I’ve met has been extremely friendly, with the exception of my girlfriend, all my go-to friends, including my brother, aren’t a walk or short subway ride away anymore.

I’m sure that over the next few months I’ll begin settling into my new city and to my post-graduate school career. Nevertheless, I also know that to a certain extent the year ahead and probably the next few, as I establish myself professionally and decide where I’m going to live for the foreseeable future, will require me to rely on my instinct and confidence in myself to make hard decisions without constantly questioning the road not traveled.

Last year, Simon & Garfunkel’s words from The Boxer rang true. This year the poignant chorus of one of my favorite Israeli songs, “Yareach” (“Moon”) by Shlomo Artzi, capture my feeling of looking back at what I’ve just left behind with a sense of tomorrow’s unknown potential:

Etmol hiyah tov, ve-yieh gam makhar.
Yesterday was good, and there will be tomorrow again.