We are all passionate about something. Sometimes we may not know what it is. But, if we can carve out some quiet time to contemplate and reflect, we can usually discover that spark inside us.
And, when we do, life becomes so much more fun.
In my previous life, I was a journalist. It started my freshman year of high school when a new English teacher was hired and tasked with running The Talon, the official newspaper of Los Altos High School. Growing up as one of four Jews in a class of 400 (shot out to David Simon, Cris Barrett and Eli Drucker) was, at times, a little isolating. And that’s why when Galen Rosenberg, our new English teacher, entered the scene, things got much more interesting. I will never forget the first day of school when he walked into class and Steve Rakowski (name changed to protect the Anti-Semite), a surfer and overall loser despite his popularity, stood up and, in a perfect Jeff Spicoli voice said, “Mr. Rosenberg, dude, I brought you a bagel.”
Mr. Rosenberg responded calmly with, “Mr. Rakowski go to the principal’s office.” (By the way, a quick Google search just now revealed that Mr. Rosenberg now sits in the principal’s office at LAH).
Mr. Rosenberg recruited me to be an editor of the Talon and my love for journalism began. The passion continued to develop at the University of Wisconsin – Madison, where I worked as a reporter and editor for the Badger Herald , while I aquired my degree in Journalism.
Shortly after college, in the summer 1992, I set off to follow my dream of being a foreign correspondent and embedded myself in Serbia during the war in then Yugoslavia.
(A few of the pieces that I wrote during the time in Serbia)
Investigating, interviewing and writing pieces for the San Francisco Chronicle was amazing, but something was missing. As I met all my heroes, other correspondents from the big newspapers and magazines, I realized that they all had one thing in common – they were miserable, lonely men who spent most of their time boozing and womanizing (which, by the way, at the time sounded great).
So, it should come as no surprise that when I went to Jerusalem for three weeks to meet my old girlfriend (take it easy, she’s my wife now), and was exposed for the first time to the beauty and wisdom of our people, I was sold!
As I said in the last blog, three weeks became 9 years and I returned to Chicago as a rabbi with a large family and a 20-year career in the pulpit ahead of me. But something was missing (a common refrain in my life, as you are starting to see). And, it took moving back to Israel this past summer for me to figure out what it was.
I remember the day, it’s kind of hard to forget. It was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and I woke up early to do some soul-searching on my porch that overlooks the ancient, rocky Judean hills. It’s kind of amazing how when you quiet everything down and just think, big things can happen. What is it that I am really passionate about? Given the sum total of my life experiences and what I have learned, what is the unique contribution that I can make to the story of the Jewish people returning to our land after 2000 years? What is missing from my life that would add depth and meaning if I could capture (or recapture) it? And, then as if rising up from those ancient rocks that surrounded me the answer arrived.
Ready for this one? What was missing in my life? Journalism. Boom. Full-circle.
I realized that what I was passionate about from the day my path crossed with Galen Rosenberg, was still alive and burning inside of me. I want to be a journalist again. As I said last week, every one of us has a role to play in this epic story of our return. And, from that moment on Rosh Hashanah morning it was clear that my role is to tell the story. And that, my friends, is the birth of this new podcast, Israel Take 3
I can’t wait to share our story with you.
Post Script – I reached out to Mr. Rosenberg after writing this. He remembered me well (probably not a good thing when a teacher remembers you 35 years later). He said he did not recall the story about Steve Rakowski and his comment about the bagel. But, thinking back about that surfer dude, he doesn’t doubt it happened either… Also, as it turns out, Mr. Rosenberg isn’t actually even Jewish. But we all thought he was at the time, and that was all the mattered.
Can I simply say what a comfort to find someone who actually understands what they are discussing on the net. You definitely understand how to bring an issue to light and make it important. More people should check this out and understand this side of the story. I was surprised that you are not more popular since you most certainly have the gift.