Charlottesville: A Nightmare Comes True
“Now he’s a Jew boy,” Ira said as he leaned over the hospital bed to kiss me and gently touch our three-day old son’s head.

My husband and I laughed. I was relieved that the circumcision was over. We had opted for a low-key event in the hospital; the procedure performed by the obstetrician who had delivered our son four days earlier. We had no family in the area and Ira was a good friend, the son of a Holocaust surviving mother. So there was no gathering of friends and relatives, no wine, no lox and bagels. Just our newborn Nathan, Ira, our rabbi, the physician, my husband and me.
That night I had a nightmare that I recall with vivid detail thirty-two years later. I dreamt Nazi storm troopers were chasing me down a dark alley. When I realized there was no escape, I woke up crying, my heart pounding. Panicked, I rang for the nurse.
She came to my bedside, reassured me that I was safe and then brought Nathan into the room to prove to me that he was also safe.
Soon enough I fell asleep.
From that moment in 1985, until this past week in 2017 I have never felt afraid in the same way. Although I have had a few encounters with individuals who were uninformed about Jews or Judaism, anti-Semitism has never personally affected me in daily life. Until now.
Until I watched the events of Charlottesville unfold, and, worse, watched our President fail at the fundamental task of his job, to keep all Americans safe. Now, as an American Jew in the 21st century I no longer feel my son and I are safe. The moral compass is swinging wildly and the man who was elected to help steady it has revealed how totally unfit he is for the job.
For the first time in thirty-two years, I am sick to my stomach that my nightmare is coming true.
August 19, 2017
