As Rosh Hashana approached, I was trying to come up with an idea for a story. I wasn't having much luck, so I sought to brainstorm with my Dad one day while we were sitting in the swimming pool.

He looked at me and smiled. "What about writing how Rosh Hashana is celebrated around the world?"

"Boring," I replied. "I need a creative story."

"OK, what about writing a story modeled after the Charles Dickens character who deals with the Christmases of the past, present, and future."

"You mean, knock it off and write of the Rosh Hashana of the past, present, and future?"

"Sure, his story is timeless."

I swam a few laps trying to come up with a clever way to put it together, and when I reached the end of the pool, I made a face at my Dad.

"I'm not loving it. I want a fun story. What fun story do I have about Rosh Hashana?"

"You could talk about how it brings families together."

"True, but that's a snoozer."

My Dad shook his head, "Masada, it's not as if there's anything so new about a holiday that is thousands of years old. Maybe you should write a story about how hard it is to write a story about something that's new every year and keeps getting older, but never really changes.

I started giggling. "That's exactly the story I'm going to write."

A few days later, I scheduled a baking lesson with Sol Menashe, a close family friend and former owner of a fabulous bakery. He suggested he teach me how to bake rugelach.

Our families have spent Rosh Hashana together for as long as I can remember. It's always a great time, with fabulous food and funny stories. As we were baking away, the story idea started to unfold.

My Dad and Sol had both grown up in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe).

Fast-forward 25 years: My family moved from New York to Scottsdale, Ariz., and my parents were told about Sol's business. My Dad met Sol at the bakery. Once they started to talk, they found they knew people from their childhood in common. Needless to say, our families soon became fast friends. One night, they looked through Sol's childhood photos and, lo and behold, my Dad found photos of himself.

While we were mixing the dough, I asked, "Don't you think it is interesting that you meet up again years later? It's a long way from Africa to Arizona. Are you sure you didn't know my Dad growing up?"

"Well, we traveled in the same circles, and I'm a few years older, but we did know each other slightly," Sol said.

Smiling, I spread the raspberry jam on the dough.

"Can I see the photos of my Dad?"

"Sure, but first sprinkle the nuts on the dough, cut it into 12 slices like you would cut a pizza, and then roll them up tightly."

Once the rugelach were in the oven, he pulled out a box of black-and-white photos. The one shot we were able to find of my Dad was of him diving into a swimming pool. I was shocked. Sometimes my stories seem to write themselves. I couldn't have figured a better way to bring my story to full circle than with that shot, specifically because my Dad's career advice for the Rosh Hashana story back at the swimming pool was to stay focused on writing, take action and contact all the editors I know, and make a name for myself. Talk about diving in headfirst.

So maybe that's the key to the New Year: Stay cool (swim a lot), stay sweet (bake a lot), and most importantly, have fun, because somehow ancient stories find new beginnings and sometimes you get lucky and find that while having fun with a little rugelach, you might find a sweet way to find an ending to a good story.