I might have liked to start by saying that it was a mild and clear evening, the stars visible even in the Manhattan sky, or that it was chilly and I had to zip up my jacket and keep my hand in my pockets, or something of that sort. But in truth I don’t remember what the evening was like. It was just an evening like any other, around the beginning of spring of last year. I do remember I was wearing a light spring jacket—my long Chasidic coat now reserved only for Shul, weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, or other such formal functions—and the zipper had gotten stuck on that day, but that’s of course of minor significance…

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