The most memorable Yom Kippur for me was 5746, my 15th. After the morning services I went to my friend Karen’s house and prematurely broke the fast with a few Cool Ranch Doritos. When I confessed to my father, he marched me over to Temple Beth Zion-Beth Israel, led me halfway down the aisle and placed me in a seat.

“Don’t come home until after the shofar blows.”