“For every pot, there’s a cover.” That’s what my grandmother of blessed memory always said, never giving up her hope for me. But I was pushing 40. Restless, with no possible prospects, I moved to Norfolk, Virginia for a new hotel job. As I did with every new move, I first went to the local synagogue. This one happened to be hosting a singles Shabbat that night. Hooray, a “two in one!” When my parents next asked, as they always did, if I had attended services and gone to a singles party to meet someone, I could honestly say, “Yes.” Ron was approaching 50 and wanted to get married. He was on the board of the Norfolk Jewish Community Center and volunteered to establish a singles program where he might meet someone who shared his interests—and...

Continue reading