This past summer, I was bat mitzvahed on a mountaintop at dawn.
Now, I need you to understand just how strange that statement sounds coming from me. First, I’m 20 years old. Second, I’m an incorrigible
night owl, so, for me, doing anything “at dawn” is unprecedented. Third, my appreciation for the great outdoors is limited to Planet Earth reruns. But perhaps the strangest thing about my bat mitzvah is this: I’m not Jewish.
