Jewish and Proud

 "Mr. Levine, may I see you for a moment?"

I just received an email with the subject line, "How to Clean Strawberries So They Last Longer." I did not click. Maybe I should have, since I often bemoan how fast strawberries go bad in the fridge, or how they attract fruit flies when left out on the counter, but in light of world events it just doesn't seem to matter. 

Who needs fresh strawberries if Hamas is coming to get me? I am a Jew, and even though I live in Maine and not Gaza, the thought has entered my mind. 

Yesterday a huge pro-Palestinian demonstration, comprised of about 50,000 people, took place in London. Let's face it: pro-Palestinian means anti-Jew. And my husband is going to London in a little more than a week from today. So, using the Six Degrees of Separation rule, those people are virtually in my own backyard.

Yes, I'm worried. In fact, for the first time in my life I fear some sort of troubles could come my way because of my religion. Still, I wouldn't change it if I had the chance. Being a Jew is the best part of me.