I spent last Christmas on Twitter, talking to a stranger in Germany about potatoes. It was lovely. For the first time in years, I had (virtual) company on the holiday.
I’ve always been the lonely Jew on Christmas, much like Kyle in “South Park.” Now I’m in Philadelphia, but I’ve lived in 14 cities — from Boston to Berkeley, with stints in Omaha, St. Louis and Lawrence, Kansas. Wherever I’ve lived, there’s always been the spirit of Christmas. But it’s been hard to find a place to feel like I belong as a single, childless, practicing Jew whose family is far away.