Remembering a childhood kitchen should make a person think of food. But last night, during a writing workshop at the Brookline Booksmith, thinking of my family’s kitchen took me back to the first week of school in a new town. I was back in 1974; I was 9 years old, and my two brothers and I were the only Jews in school.
The writing instructor asked us to write down details of our childhood kitchen, then write about an event there. Yellow vinyl bar stools. My mind fixated on that image, … Continue reading