The Skin Heads of a Jew in the Streets

The story is a negotiation with questions of bravery and cowardice. My father was the only person on that street who should have stepped into that space and pulled those skin heads off the boy. The moment that i most wanted to be like my father, he was saying, you shouldn't do that. But it felt oddly like a rejection. And so that, i think, is why these questions of bravery or cowardice inhabit those various retellings of the story. It reminds me that this is not a story about my own fiction for 40 years as much as an act of bravery versus cowardice.