I love anger. In my atypical Jewish family, it was somehow always acceptable to express anger and rage as and when it came up which, for me, was all the time. We were a yelling family with a mother who, in summer, would admonish us not to shut up but to close the windows.
As a young adult — first in college and then beyond — I could see that this freedom would not always put me in the best light. It was one…
