by Ilan Mochari
A few months ago I finished Pete Townshend’s autobiography, “Who I Am.” I can’t say I was surprised to read the following:
We shared our house with the Cass family, who lived upstairs and, like many of my parents’ closest friends, were Jewish. I remember noisy, joyous Passovers with a lot of Gefilte fish, chopped liver and the aroma of slow-roasting brisket (11).
I have often wondered why “Tommy” has such a grip on me. My best guess? I think it stems from my six summers at B’nai B’rith Perlman Camp in Starlight, Pennsylvania...more.
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