“Are there any Jewish people here?” My mother asks, over her vanilla yogurt and Swiss cheese sandwich. “I think there are a few in the gated community up the road,” I say, clearing dishes off the table. “Well that’s a relief,” my mom says.  “How did you hear?” “The Jews have secret smoke signals down here, Mom, ones that the Klan don’t recognize.” “Ilene…” my ex-husband says.  It’s the warning call, the one where he tells me to back off.  Just the use of the word Klan is feeding into my mother’s fear that I’ve moved myself and her grandchildren … Continue reading →