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Abstract

I was born and grew up in Hendersonville, North Carolina, a small town of about 6000 people in the western part of the state. There were about 30 Jewish families in Hendersonville, and I knew from a very early age that I was Jewish and, consequently, that I was different in an important way from almost all of my neighbors and classmates. The most evident way, especially to a child, involved dietary prohibitions against eating pork. I also knew that I was allowed absences from school (Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur) while other children were not. Inevitably, my Jewishness accounts for many of the memories-most of them, it is important to say at the outset, quite pleasant-I have of growing up in Hendersonville, and I begin this essay with two of them.

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