I welcome all of you. Bear with me as I navigate this new platform.

I am writing from the throes of symptomatic Covid rebound. Yes, it’s true.

After a week of tolerable Covid symptoms (headaches, fever, body aches), I tested negative. When 1,500 steps felt like 25,000, I realized how much either 1) that I had de-conditioned or 2) that I wasn’t exactly 100% well. Baby-steps. No big deal.

Tears and anxiety were back a few days later. A rapid test showed those dreaded 2 lines. Again with the masks and isolation, back to bed.

Paxlovid rebound or rebound unrelated to Paxlovid, not sure if I will ever know.

I promised myself that after last week, I would not write about Covid or the elections. Let’s talk about love instead.

We’ve heard talk about grey divorces. What about grey weddings?

Michael and I have been friends since we were 15 years old. We attended The American Class in 1972 at Kibbutz Kfar Blum. This one year program brought 25 kids from the United States each year to experience life in Israel in 10th grade. Michael was annoying, like most guys that age, but his humility, sense of humor and sheer goodness set him apart.

We stayed close all these years. He never missed a family gathering. When Michael was NOT at the hospital when my first child was born, everyone asked where he was.

Where is Michael????
He signed my Ketubah (Jewish marriage license) and then 30 years later signed my daughter’s. He was always a groomsman, never a groom.

In 1975, we made a pact that if we weren’t married by the age of 25, we would marry each other at 1pm on the top of Shalom Tower, Israel’s first skyscraper. That never happened, but it was a nice back-up plan.

Michael got married for the first time at the age of 65. Michael and Sue, his wonderful partner for ten years, had no particular reason to marry. Why now? The question is, why not now? There is no age limit to love and marriage. They wanted to officially make this commitment and pronouncement of love.

I attended My Best Friend’s Wedding the weekend before I left the States. It was like a mini-reunion, with several of our Kibbutz connections present. Depth, dual citizenship, nostalgia, exes, aesthetics, acceptance, and human connection on a banner fall weekend in the Berkshires – this is what life is all about.

We were celebrating Michael after all the years he celebrated us.