Lianne, 41, took Jacob, her 4-month-old baby, out of his stroller and held him in her arms as we sat down for coffee on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.
She and her husband, Mark, conceived Jacob just weeks after they were married about a year ago.
And, to my surprise, the stigma of being a shiksa is profound.
I was the one who adamantly declared that I would never marry out.
Not because my parents were against it; they didn’t need to tell me because my traditional Jewish upbringing and day-school education were my safeguards.
It was an inspiring night full of memories and promise for the future. And, if that wasn’t enough for my ego, he was a commercial pilot. Related Article: Chicken Soup with Chopsticks A Night to Remember We set a date to meet. The Fifth Commandment The confession took place at a restaurant.
As we gathered round looking at photos, I pretended not to notice the attractive guy sitting next to me. I convinced myself it would be a completely harmless evening that would chalk up a point for my flirting skills. We revved up the night with a ride on his motorbike. I simply let my parents know that I was dating a non-Jew, but not to worry.