HOW LUCKY WE ALL WERE

Between 1992 and 1995, while in Israel, I worked as a caregiver for an 84-year-old woman who had fled Hungary during World War II. After her passing, I made a promise to myself to write about her as a token of gratitude. At the time, I couldn't say exactly what form it would take-a novella, a short story... In the years that followed, I was occupied with what Ecclesiastes calls vanity. Then, last year, I received a kind of reminder of my promise. Heeding this sign, I recorded some of our convers