'Twas the night before Scotchmas and all through the house, not a bottle was open -- not even the Famous Grouse.
Did you know December is Identity Theft Prevention and Awareness Month because of the increase in instances of theft in the last few months of the year? Theft comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes and it is important to realize we are all susceptible.
A gift, no matter how small, is a statement that you care about someone. It is a gesture of love and peace that can make an enormous difference.
It is one thing to wish someone a "happy holidays" in reference to the multitude of secular and religious winter holidays. It is quite another to declare that an evergreen tree is a universal holiday symbol.
Well, we got through the notorious day 12-12-12, when doomsday Mayan hieroglyphics foretold the end of the world. Aren't you relieved? But we are not out of the woods.
The Hanukkah story of the oil in the Temple -- a measure enough for one day that lasted for eight -- speaks to the intentions and motivations that must underlie our efforts at conservation and our work to slow climate change.
Every year as a kid in the 1960s my family celebrated Christmas as a festive holiday. The funny part of this to some of my friends is that my family was Jewish. Why not enjoy all the holidays during December?
This Hanukkah, when Jews light their menorahs, we should remember that the item we are lighting holds a large cultural and historical significance. It symbolizes not only the miracle of the lasting oil, but also the miracle of the surviving Jewish people.
This year, "eight days" has personal resonance. During the ordeal of hurricane Sandy six weeks ago, we lost power for eight days. It was inky black beyond the fire's glow. I finally understood, on a visceral level, why for millennia, people stared down darkness with celebrations of light.
If you are tired of your holiday experience being too focused on stuff, I challenge you to do it differently this year. Concentrate on how kind, generous, and present you can be during the holidays.
The snow reflected not only the moonlight, but strings of icicle lights. While I admired the fleeting beauty in my neighborhood, my son was contemplating the flip side of an age-old childhood quandary: "How will Santa know not to come here?"
One year I asked my parents if we could get a "Hanukkah bush." "Jews don't decorate shrubbery," was my mom's unhappy answer. Maybe it's precious to me because of its relative asceticism, but I still love our religiously minor, flame-filled holiday.
The more specific you get, the less likely you are to be correct. This is certainly manifest in the inconvenient truth that so many religions describe what God wants from us in such different terms.
What do you do when your kids are Jewish but attend Christian schools? You won't find the answers in the Old Testament or the Talmud. But you might find answers in a cookbook, metaphorically speaking.
Confident with a latke recipe, I surveyed my spices. I immediately thought of one of my favorite Indian street foods, aloo tikkis - fried patties of spiced mashed potatoes and onions.
Last year before Christmas I got a Facebook message from my church-going high school sweetheart. Her children were very interested in this question. What follows is my letter to them.