THE FUSE

Just like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz who is violently ripped from her sheltered but humdrum world by a cyclonic force, I was hurled by a gale before Passover, thrown sideways 15 feet, landing in the street in the path of oncoming traffic. Rush hour had just begun in Fort Lee, New Jersey where I lived and things looked ominous. Like Dorothy, I was stewing about the past. It was shortly before Pesach and I was recounting how this Passover marked the 40 year anniversary since my daughter was whisked away by family court at the age of six because I tried to protect her from sexual abuse. And later when I sought emergency medical care for my daughter, who was diagnosed with life-threatening anorexia nervosa and suicidal depression while in the custody of her father, my visits were permanently suspended because I was not allowed to seek medical attention for my daughter as the noncustodial parent. Even more, when my visits were suspended I was not allowed any telephone contact either.