Once upon a time, when I was 10 years old, I knew just two Jewish kids. One was a boy by the name of Sheiman. One was a girl by the name of Dubofsky. The boy was a jerk. I disliked him more than any other kid. The girl was quiet and pleasant and liked horses. I liked her. I found each of them very unusual to my 10-year-old Christian way of thinking. I never saw them in church on Sunday and they would disappear from school on days when everybody else was there. Then, that same year, I read a biography on Sandy Koufax. He was the first famous Jewish person I ever came across. I took an instant liking to him, and even at a young age, admired his principles when he declined to start Game 1 of the 1965 World Series because it fell on Yom Kippur. I looked at the Jewish kids I knew with a different perspective. Except Sheiman. He was still a jerk. As the years went on, people of the Jewish faith moved in and out of my life so often that I never thought about i...
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