Adam Blatner

An old fried, a Lutheran, addressed me assuming I’m Jewish—which I am, a little. But I’m affiliated now with the Unitarian Church nearby—inter-denominational sermons about being thoughtful and good. His good wishes for me reflects the perception that because I was born Jewish I still identify, but I don’t, well, not that much. Identity is funny. I do with the history a little, and the humor, medium, though that is fading.

Both my kids have married non-Jews, as have I for the second time, now forty three years. We are very happy and settling down. But his email reminds me of something I generally give little thought to—my identity— which is curious.

Identity: Background, vocation, state of affiliation—for a while I was increasingly a Texan! Hobby. It occurred to me that I’m as much of an non-traditional artist as a psychiatrist—but that itself is tipping over to the borders of not being a psychiatrist any more, or even a physician. I’m confronted with the option to stop putting an M.D. after my name, after earning it… dare I?

Indeed, many elements are shifting: Father, grandfather, old friend, etc.—betwixt and between I am.