By Alison Buckholtz
When we moved last year from the Washington, D.C., area to Anacortes, Wash. — a Thornton Wilder-era town in the far northwest corner of the state — I spent the first few months cataloging all that was missing from our new home. My parents were gone from our day-to-day lives; back east, in our cozy suburb, they lived just a few houses away, often baby-sitting for our kids, Ethan, 4, and Esther, 2. We also left behind a close-knit Jewish community, three synagogues within walking distance and any possibility of Sabbath lunch-hopping in the neighborhood.
Read More
