Ten years ago this season when my father died, no one who had lived through the Great Depression and WWII could have ever imagined a world crisis such as we have today.  I’m glad he didn’t have to live to see this.  Here is his yahrzeit memorial candle, which I lit last night on the Jewish lunar anniversary.

And here are more flowers blooming on this deceptively pleasant spring erev, with Passover coming up this week.  It will be a very sober Pesach, with everyone sequestered away from their families.  I say “sober” in the sense of “sobering”, not in the sense of the traditional sacred drinking oneself under the table.  I predict a little more of the latter this year, for therapeutic purposes.