This is a long read, but I could not put it down once I started. It’s funny, tearjerking, and lovely.

In my most bitter moments, in times when I realize how much of my foundational education was given over to the war and how little was given over to, say, gym or art or the other humanities that would have helped me in life or at the very least in work meetings, I say I went to a Holocaust high school, a magnet school for Jewish death studies. I say my school taught us masters-level World War II history and also just enough math and science to pass the New York State Regents exams. I’m joking, but am I? I left high school having read “Macbeth” not once but Elie Wiesel’s “Night” three times over the course of my education. I can probably autocomplete any sentence from Anne Frank’s diary if you start me off with three words. I have forgotten more about the Holocaust than I ever knew about the American Revolution.