The Day My Hasidic Father Visited Me at Wellesley

The Day My Hasidic Father Visited Me at Wellesley

Walking around the leafy campus in his black hat and long black coat, my father looks like a historical figure from another era. Fascinated by the elaborate architecture, he points to a poster on Wellesley’s Science building. “What is the meaning of science?” He asks. I’m caught off guard.

 

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