Babbling Point

Last Wednesday, in between last minute meetings and last minute revisions, I went to the clinic to get a boil checked. The boil aka a carbuncle aka a “pigsa” was under my left armpit and was becoming a source of major discomfort. So, the clinic referred me to the surgeon on duty. He took one look at the pigsa and said we needed to incise it. The procedure took less than five minutes. He cut it open, cleaned out the puss, put a whole lot of gauze pads and medical tape and sent me out of the clinic with a prescription for antibiotics and painkillers. I stepped out of the clinic around 5pm. I went back to work, attended one more meeting, rewrote a script and finally got to have dinner around 10pm with Wella. Got home a little before midnight. In the bathroom, I took off my shirt, looked at my bandaged underarm, and noticed the gauze was soaked with blood. I poked it with a finger to check if it was dried blood or fresh blood. It looked okay. I suddenly felt this warm, liquid gush on my

"A few years ago, a young taxi driver drove me to John F. Kennedy Airport on Long Island. After a few minutes of conversation, I discovered that Mike had belonged to my synagogue years before I came to the community. "So, rabbi," he asked while we sat in heavy traffic, "what do you say to a Jew like me who hasn't been in a synagogue since his bar mitzvah ceremony?" Thinking for a moment, I recalled that in Hassidic lore, the baal aqalah (the wagon driver) is an honored profession. So I said, "We could talk about your work." "What does my work have to do with religion?" "Well, we choose how we look at the world and at life. You're a taxi driver. But you are also a piece of the tissue that connects all humanity. You're taking me to the airport. I'll go to a different city and give a couple of lectures that might touch or help or change someone. I couldn't have gotten there without you. You help make the connection hap