Waiting for Goodman

The other day, Dana and I were with our friend Stacy at lunch. Stacy asked me if I wanted a recommendation for a therapist (she’s a pastor, has the hookups). Dana, without missing a beat, says, “is that going to be ok with you? She’s not Jewish. Stacy stood there and looked confused while Dana explained that when I pick out new therapists, I go through my insurance booklet and circle all the names that sound like New York Jews. My last therapist was a guy out in the burbs of Portland- it took me 20 minutes to get to his office- and yet nothing could dissuade me. He was the guy. I would drive 20 minutes for Howard Rosenbaum, who will always have my respect because he called my sweet Dana a “Portland Pioneering SuperJew.”

Dana’s Jewish ethnically. It’s a long story. She’ll tell you.

“Oh, but she IS Jewish!” Stacy said. HA! Bet you didn’t think of that one, DANA! My Methodist pastor friend ALSO knows Jewish therapists….

…and that is how I came to be, sitting here with my laptop and coffee, waiting for Goodman. She’s supposed to call at 9:00 to schedule my new patient appointment. It’s only 6:46.

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