On day nine of Governor Hogan’s quarantine, I embarked upon a journey to find yeast. My daughter, uprooted from her college life, had decided that she wanted to make challah for Shabbat before Passover began. What a way to connect …

This was a story that had particular resonance for me.  I grew up in Brooklyn, in a lower-middle-class neighborhood amidst many Jews. We kids all went to the local public school; the Catholics in our ‘hood, Italian and Irish mostly, went to the parochial school. There was no particular animosity there but there wasn’t that much interaction either.  

Outside was a surreal new reality where I could be endangering the people around me with a stray touch. Maybe there was something inside. 

I hadn’t contemplated what Jewish life abroad might look like or the compromises I might make. The landscape was that of Cezanne and Van Gogh, cobblestone streets, the ubiquitous skinny baguettes tucked under the arm. The seder, however, had an agenda.

The book has helped the author and her family heal from shock and tragedy in many ways.