I read recently that Jeb Bush inadvertently checked the Hispanic box in his voter registration form in 2009. His response was, “My mistake! Don’t think I’ve fooled anyone." It reminded me of a the silly mistakes I make and how foolish it is to get angry about them. How many times have I frantically searched for my glasses only to find them on the top of my head or hanging from my shirt collar? I just laugh now at my own ridiculousness. We are humans and that is the beauty and horror of it all. It works the other way too.

I am sure I have written this blog before. In fact, probably two years ago when my phone contract was last up for renewal.

I had a text message “conversation” with one of my college roommates last week that went something like this:

My favorite holidays are Passoover and Thanksgiving. The first is the start of Spring. And the other is often my birthday. Most important is that both holidays revolve around eating. Most of the day is spent thinking about food.  

Those who know me most know the thing I HATE (emphasis added) most probably involves asking others for money, to donate, to contribute, to take a journal ad.

I've had three knee operations at my neighborhood Glen Cove Hospital on Long Island. My wife and son have also had procedures there.  We are all satisfied patients.I was turned on to Glen Cove Hospital by my good friend Dr. David Berger who is head of anesthesiology there.This great local hospital was founded before World War II to serve a blend of working class as well as wealthy patients.

Cayce’s blog yesterday was the perfect lead for mine today. As we approach this Passover and Easter holiday weekend, traditions are embraced. One of my favorites is making two of the traditional foods for the Passover Seders. Once again, I’ll be making the charoset -- a mixture of apples, walnuts and wine representing the mortar used by the Hebrew laborers in ancient Egypt -- and the maror -- the bitter herbs representing the suffering of slavery.

When I was growing up, Easter was a really big deal. This was suburban Southern California and Georgia in the 60s and 70s. We got a new dresses, had our picture taken, went to church and had an even more delicious Sunday dinner, than our usual one. My mother was an excellent cook, perhaps a little heavy on the alcohol... We had egg hunts and adorable stuffed bunnies, all very Episcopalian.