The most vivid thing I remember about growing up is walking with my Dad all 26 blocks between my house and Oceanside Jewish Center on the High Holidays, both ways. It was a special time, just my father and me.

It was strange that my Dad felt the need to walk. Maybe he knew those walks would keep an ember burning inside me years later. As I aged and drifted away from the limited practice of Judaism growing up, the memory of those walks kept that tiny ember of faith from extinguishing.

[One never knows how those seeds will sprout. The important thing is to keep planting and nourishing them. — Ed]