I'd been thinking for the past few days about necklaces. I always used to wear a Star of David, but stopped around the time I moved back to Pittsburgh. It literally fell off: I had two stars: the one I got in Mea Shearim was the one that was ripped off of my neck when I got mugged in Chicago in August 1995, and the other one I got in Jerusalem fell off and disappeared in the grass on Flagstaff Hill in Oakland.
So yesterday i'm sitting at lunch, this question is still wandering through my brain: should I start wearing a Star of David again? And all of a sudden, the necklace that I'm wearing disintegrates. Falls to pieces. Beads scattering across the floor. And I wasn't even touching it when this happened. It just spontaneously combusted. So when I got home I went searching for some Jew-y necklace, which was no small task. But I finally found two small stars in the rat room, amongst the ruins of the Judaica that Muchi and Bitsy have scattered across the floor.
Now here's the coming out part:
I've taken great pains at work to not be out as a Jew. It mostly has to do with Marsha, one of our volunteers (who lives at Dan's house, actually) who's a Jew for Jesus. She knew pghwob was Jewish and gave him endless hassle for it. Then again, it is pghwob we're talking about (I love you pghwob, but I'm guessing you maybe fanned those flames, at least a little bit). :) Marsha knew I'd been to ... Aqaba, maybe? Somewhere in Jordan. And she once gave me a mini Jesus-y lecture on that, but it was one of those things where it started off innocently (have you been there? was it nice?), took a religious turn (you know The Bible says ...) and, when I basically ignored that (mmm hmmm ... [returns to work]) she let it drop.
The moral of the story is that I was given a sign that I need to out myself, so, even though I'm afraid it's going to earn me a bunch of Jebus-y shit ... well, here I go.