There is one question that everyone asks themselves throughout their lives, that rarely finds a satisfactory answer. Who am I? Am I a Michigan fan or Ohio State fan or is it possible to be both? Am I a Midwest boy, or an east coast kid? Am I Jewish or an Atheist and how is that possible to be both? In many ways, I am a walking, talking, paradox and yet somehow it makes too much sense that I am all of these things.

Let’s start in Michigan. I am born and I meet two people; their names are Mom and Dad. Both are very loving. Both have good values. Both have already consciously decided to raise me Jewish, as their parents have, and their parent’s parents have, and so on and so forth. My ancestral nationality is Polish and Russian, meaning there was a time when my existence was in danger; first my relatives escaping Russian pogroms which discriminated against Jews and many were killed. When the Nazi’s invaded Poland, my ancestor’s Christian neighbor risked her life by hiding my relative in her dumpster. Both sides of my family made it to The United States. Both ended up in Northeast Ohio. Now here I am in Michigan, six years old and Tom Brady is leading Michigan to an undefeated championship season, and the Detroit Red Wings are in the midst of a dynasty. I like hockey and Dad takes me to games. He buys us really nice seats and I start Waldorf kindergarten. We go to synagogue; a reform synagogue; because Mom and Dad say we believe in Judaism, just adapting it to modern life and not taking the Torah literally. I am seven and I accept this. Dad says we are moving to Ohio. I am seven and I do not think any differently. Of course, I don’t understand.

I continue my Waldorf education in first grade in Copley, Ohio. My grandma and papa are here, so are my aunts and uncles. I have a sister now, her name is Isabelle and she is 4 years younger than myself. We live in a big house, and I am lucky to attend a Waldorf school. Nature hikes is a class. I have not touched a pencil, and will not touch one until fourth grade. We write with crayons, we have no grades and we learn math through analogies involving gnomes. From a young age my creative potential was tapped into and it continues to be the strength I am most proud of. It’s how I know you are reading this intently, I’ve drawn you in with my writing voice. If this was a movie, I have just breached the fourth wall. It’s time for another scene change, though.

Dad says we are moving to Evansville, Indiana. I shove over my glass at the dinner table, scream and cry. This is the first time I have experienced the helplessness of realizing my life, my friends and home are being taken from me. I am ten and I have recognized something: I really don’t like moving. My parents promise we will not move again.

Evansville, Indiana. Dad gets out a map. “Here is Indiana, see how the shape of the states ends in a point in the southeast? That is where we live now, that bottom tip. I attend a really high quality private school and I am completely unprepared. This is fourth grade and I am using a pencil for the first time. I get yelled at for talking out, which I do a lot. For the first time I feel the pressure of school and it is overwhelming. There is a dress code. While I am unaccustomed to this form of education, I am no deviant. My best friend is the principles son Nick, and our buddy Bill. We are some pretty cool kids and they are great friends. Indiana may be considered the Midwest, but Evansville is certainly the South. If you want diversity, Evansville is not the place for you. My parents will tell me when I am older that they experienced some discrimination and judgments for being Jewish, although I am too young to notice. There is one other Jewish family, the Polets. The daughter is in my grade and she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I have a first crush. My best friends will ask me at a certain point if I like her because she is Jewish. That had honestly never crossed my mind, all I know is I like when she smiles at me and she is the prettiest girl I know. It is the end of fifth grade and Dad says we are moving again. I am devastated. What about my best friends, my love, and my new home? I consider holding my life hostage to try to make them stay. I was promised we would not move again and I had expected my parents word to be kept. I get hysterical and tell my parents I will destroy our house so they cannot sell it and we cannot move (a half-assed plan, but I was an emotional twelve-year-old boy in this moment). When I ask them where I we are moving he answers “Baltimore, Maryland”. I have heard of it but know nothing about it. “How are the sports teams?” I ask. I am still a Detroit Red Wings fan, and the Indianapolis Colts have an exciting young quarterback named Peyton Manning. My dad responds, “Well, there is the Ravens for football and they aren’t very good (Kyle Boller, anyone?) and there is the Orioles and neither are they.” Great. My parents promise we won’t move again and I can make Baltimore home.

I enter sixth grade at Baltimore Hebrew Congregation Day School. It is a reform Jewish school, small. By the time I graduate middle school, I have fifteen classmates, two of whom are girls. Seventh grade is great though. It is a Jewish school and my entire grade is turning thirteen. This means a lot of Bar at Bat Mitzvahs. I mean, A LOT of Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. This means classy parties, dancing with girls while wearing a suit and dresses. My friends and I feel like playboys. In reality, we are awkward thirteen-year-old Jewish boys, but with our virgin Pina Coladas in hand, we sure feel like Kanye West. My best friends are Josh and Mitch; both great people. Josh will remain my best friend for life. Mitch’s life came to an end at the age of seventeen, but we will get to that. Josh is the Turk to my J.D. Hopefully that reference lands (if it does, I want to be your friend). We have the same sense of humor, we both play hockey, and we are both weirdo’s that have to be separated in every class, or else we will not stop talking. I have my Bar Mitzvah, and along with learning Hebrew, about Judaism at a Jewish school, I am closer to my religion than ever. At the same time, I am very rational and question what I am learning. I ask one of my teachers, “What if you are wrong and this is all made up?” She responds, “Then I have wasted my life for nothing.” That would be bad for her, but is an unsatisfactory answer for me; I am still questioning. For high school I decide to attend Beth T’filoh Orthodox Jewish School. This is serious Judaism, the Torah is taken literally, we pray every morning, and have to wear Yamakas. I do not like it here. The more this religion is taken seriously, the less I believe in it. How is it I do not believe in a talking snake and that makes me the weird one? What reality does everyone else live in? This life isn’t for me, and I plan on telling my parents I want to start my sophomore year at another school. It doesn’t matter; we are moving again, back to Ohio.

When my parents tell me I have never been more disappointed in them. A certain level of trust was lost. I also have trouble trusting myself in establishing new relationships; Fraud would certainly draw conclusions. We have been losing money. We were still very well off in Indiana, comfortable in Baltimore, but my dad’s business is not doing well; like families across the United States, the recession has hit us hard. I am most sad about moving away from my best friend Josh; I already know Mitch’s family is moving to New Jersey. I will forever love the city of Baltimore though; it is home to me no question about it. I love the scenery, the people, the fresh blue crabs and the beautiful harbor. I will move back eventually, I tell myself and I will do whatever it takes.

I start my sophomore year at Copley High School; the first public school I have ever attended. We are living at my mom’s parents, I have no friends and I am depressed. There is a noticeable difference between public school and private school; I feel like a new inmate figuring out my way in prison. The teachers seem less caring, and I am not challenged as much as I was. Still, I am depressed and my grades suffer. As I have so many times, I adapt. I make friends, adjust to public school and move on with my life. Not completely. I visit Baltimore whenever I can. I spend summers with Josh and his family; Mom #2 and Dad #2, and the trusted puppy Sprinkles. I meet Josh’s friends from UMBC. They are awesome. In fact, as I have visited over the years, some of my best friends that will be my friends for life I met in Baltimore after moving from Baltimore back to Ohio.

It’s a snow day in Ohio and I see on Facebook that Mitch has died. Mitch was everyone’s best friend; not that everyone thought he was their best friend, but Mitch treated everyone like they were his best friend. He wasn’t ultra nice. He could be a sarcastic ass sometimes. But when he called you a “dumb ass” he said it with a smile and so much love that you knew he cared. He cared for everyone. Josh and I arrive at his funeral in New Jersey. The synagogue is filled with over 500 of his best friends. I had lost touch with him after moving back to Ohio; even close friends are hard to keep up with when we go our separate ways. However, at his funeral, I realized how Mitch touched so many lives in such positive ways. I revered this and decided to emulate it. I gained a desire to positively affect the lives of everyone around me. This is one reason I want to be a teacher.

I officially identify myself as an atheist after gaining an extensive knowledge of human history and taking one philosophy course. At the beginning of the course I tell my professor I am agnostic she tells me by the time you are done in my class; see if you don’t accept atheism.” By the end of the course I do.

As we all are, I am a severely complex being. I identify culturally as Jewish; it is the way I was raised and I plan on carrying on the traditions and cultural aspects that I find important to my children. However, I do not believe in God or organized religion. I am a Midwest boy, a bit of a Southerner, yet an East Coast kid at heart. College was the anchor holding me in Ohio, and when I graduated in the Spring of 2016, after years of hard work, I realized my goal by moving back to Baltimore. I want to make people’s lives better like Mitch has. I want to influence history by influencing the future generations inside of a classroom. This is my autobiography after twenty-three years and my culture may change in different ways in the future. For now, I am who I am and I am and I accept that.