So one of the Jewish traditions we chose to modify to our liking was in naming Eleanor. Jewish tradition is to take the first letter of the name of someone who has passed away (it's considered bad luck to name a child after someone still living, hence no Jr's or IIIs). So when Trent and I were trying to narrow down our options, I had a few letters in mind. S for my great grandmothers Sally and Sophie. Ah, how I love the name Sophie...but SO COMMON now!!! A for my great grandpa Abe. J for my dear friend, Jimmy, whom I lost to ALS 5 years ago now...then we figured out that both of Trent's grandparent's names started with E (Elizabeth and Edward) and, though neither of them was Jewish, Trent liked the idea. His only stipulation was that our daughter's name couldn't be something that would go well with pole-dancing. So we went with E(leanor) J(osephine). Simple. Understated. A bit serious. Eleanor of Acquitaine. Eleanor Roosevelt. Josephine Baker...Done.
Then Trent made the mistake of telling his family before she was born. And they hated the name Eleanor. Which is why, no matter WHAT your religious leanings, you should keep your mouth shut, because goodness knows, other people don't seem to. So Ellie was nameless for the first 36 hours or so while Trent decided if he was OK with moving forward with the name we had chosen. She was very almost Sydney, after Crosby, since a) he's from Pittsburgh and b) she was born the night before the gold medal game of the Olympics...and c) it fit the S option...
So yea, he got over it, and now everyone seems OK with her name...though every now and again, my folks try for EJ or someone tries out Ellie Jo...luckily, it hasn't stuck. I'm fine with Ellie. Might even like Nora as a nickname...but to me, most of the time, she's Eleanor.
So again, what's in a name?
Monday, January 31, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Home from Boca
Sorry ya'all. Just home from a visit to Florida with the little one to see my parents. In Boca Raton, where all good Jews go to retire.
So back to the whole "Jewish mother" thing...this is the part of Sachs' article that caught my attention.
...Somehow throughout the millennia, whether we were living in the desert, the shtetl, the ghetto or the Upper West Side, Jewish moms have also turned out successful progeny, despite all the kvetching.
Perhaps that's why there are so many Jewish lawyers. Jewish kids debate at home. They speak back to their elders. They argue while practicing their powers of persuasion on their exhausted parents. And we moms, well, we at least subliminally encourage it -- after all, we love a good argument almost as much as we love kibbitzing. And after centuries of persecution and existing on the fringes of nearly every society from Egypt to Eastern Europe, either fighting for entry or thriving in spite of it, Jews are hardwired for resistance...
Well, resistance is a strong point for me. And I think it's gonna have to be, in order to resist buying into all the hype around easy answers for questioning little ones. I didn't get up the nerve to ask my folks about the whole Death and Dying topic, too busy chasing around the little monkey and keeping her out of trouble.
What I have noticed recently, is several of my bad habits:
But back to that paragraph. I actually wasn't raised by the stereotypical Jewish mother [The stereotype generally involves a nagging, overprotective, manipulative, controlling, smothering, and overbearing mother or wife, one who persists in interfering in her children's lives long after they have become adults--Thank you, Wikipedia!!]. I think my father was...and perhaps even my mother was. Overbearing? Perhaps...but they're very non-confrontational. To a fault, perhaps. Kinda like pulling teeth to actually get them to talk about anything serious. But somehow, there is still this hardwired thread of staunch resistance within me, which I think was brought out even more by living in places where being Jewish wasn't common. Especially around the winter holidays. The start of Christmas carols in Oct/Nov makes me tense, and suddenly quite aware of not being a part of the majority. Living in North Carolina for 4 years might have made me feel more "Jewish" than my upbringing (after Hebrew school was over and done, that is...). And it's been a bit perpetuated living here in Ottawa now. At least Seinfeld helped others get my sense of humour...
As for turning out successful progeny...now THAT is something I can get behind. Trent (husband) and I have talked about this as one of the best parts of Jewish culture--the importance of academics. We were both geeks growing up. And my parents never had to push me regarding grades, I was a good student. Mind you, I was lazy until grad school, because I KNEW I was smart, and didn't have to work too hard to pull As and Bs. {Had I actually put my mind to it or been pushed a bit more, I may have done even better, but it's not like it is today for kids applying to college. Anyway, tangent. Sorry. } So is that what I want Ellie to get from my heritage? "Study hard, kid, this is how our people survived the pyramids, the Pharoahs, the holocaust, the blacklisting, ..."
OK I am most certainly rambling. It's late and the little darling has been asleep for 3 hours. I'm off to join her.
So back to the whole "Jewish mother" thing...this is the part of Sachs' article that caught my attention.
...Somehow throughout the millennia, whether we were living in the desert, the shtetl, the ghetto or the Upper West Side, Jewish moms have also turned out successful progeny, despite all the kvetching.
Perhaps that's why there are so many Jewish lawyers. Jewish kids debate at home. They speak back to their elders. They argue while practicing their powers of persuasion on their exhausted parents. And we moms, well, we at least subliminally encourage it -- after all, we love a good argument almost as much as we love kibbitzing. And after centuries of persecution and existing on the fringes of nearly every society from Egypt to Eastern Europe, either fighting for entry or thriving in spite of it, Jews are hardwired for resistance...
Well, resistance is a strong point for me. And I think it's gonna have to be, in order to resist buying into all the hype around easy answers for questioning little ones. I didn't get up the nerve to ask my folks about the whole Death and Dying topic, too busy chasing around the little monkey and keeping her out of trouble.
 |
| Grandma and Grandpa didn't get mad about the avocado on the wall... |
 |
| Hula hoops? Really?? |
 |
| Everything must come out of all boxes. Period. |
 |
| This includes suitcases. |
What I have noticed recently, is several of my bad habits:
- Saying "Bless you" whenever someone sneezes. Honestly, I can't seem to stop. It's great that my folks ingrained manners in me and all, but a bit hypocritical, no?
- Cursing, with "goddammit" and "Jesus Christ" being some of the most common.
- Using the phrase "Oh My God"
- Saying "Thank God" instead of "Thank goodness"...
But back to that paragraph. I actually wasn't raised by the stereotypical Jewish mother [The stereotype generally involves a nagging, overprotective, manipulative, controlling, smothering, and overbearing mother or wife, one who persists in interfering in her children's lives long after they have become adults--Thank you, Wikipedia!!]. I think my father was...and perhaps even my mother was. Overbearing? Perhaps...but they're very non-confrontational. To a fault, perhaps. Kinda like pulling teeth to actually get them to talk about anything serious. But somehow, there is still this hardwired thread of staunch resistance within me, which I think was brought out even more by living in places where being Jewish wasn't common. Especially around the winter holidays. The start of Christmas carols in Oct/Nov makes me tense, and suddenly quite aware of not being a part of the majority. Living in North Carolina for 4 years might have made me feel more "Jewish" than my upbringing (after Hebrew school was over and done, that is...). And it's been a bit perpetuated living here in Ottawa now. At least Seinfeld helped others get my sense of humour...
As for turning out successful progeny...now THAT is something I can get behind. Trent (husband) and I have talked about this as one of the best parts of Jewish culture--the importance of academics. We were both geeks growing up. And my parents never had to push me regarding grades, I was a good student. Mind you, I was lazy until grad school, because I KNEW I was smart, and didn't have to work too hard to pull As and Bs. {Had I actually put my mind to it or been pushed a bit more, I may have done even better, but it's not like it is today for kids applying to college. Anyway, tangent. Sorry. } So is that what I want Ellie to get from my heritage? "Study hard, kid, this is how our people survived the pyramids, the Pharoahs, the holocaust, the blacklisting, ..."
OK I am most certainly rambling. It's late and the little darling has been asleep for 3 hours. I'm off to join her.
parenting styles
There was this article in the WSJ last week that my husband passed on to me for the sake of discussion, and the responses on Huffington post were too numerous to even follow. This, of course, was the article that caught my attention
Chinese Moms v. Jewish mothers
Sigh...once again, I started this post a week ago...am just going to post and start over.
Chinese Moms v. Jewish mothers
Sigh...once again, I started this post a week ago...am just going to post and start over.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Did my parents cheat (regarding) death?
OK so here's something that popped into my mind whilst I was putting Eleanor to bed last night...Jews don't believe in heaven, let's start there...Since we/they are still waiting for the messiah, everything after death is still just unknown. Generally speaking, the common thread is that people live on in your memories of them. But no resurrection, no heaven, no nothin...
So why do I have memories of telling my little cousin that Nana Sally was looking down on us from Heaven???
Once again, I'm getting ahead of myself. The first time I had to deal with death, I was 10 years old. Our family dog, Missy, had hit the ripe age of 14, and it was time to let her go. My parents (not their best judgment, if you ask me) allowed her to survive through my 10th birthday and then my dad took her the following morning (without telling me, without letting me say goodbye, etc). I think they just didn't want to ruin my birthday, but come on!
Anyway, I vaguely recall my father trying to calm my inevitable hysteria by telling me that Missy was in a better place, that she was running in a field, not feeling any pain,...you know the drill.
I guess, in spite of the years of Hebrew school, this somehow became part of what made sense to me...so much so that I found myself explaining it to my little cousin when I was somewhere around 14 and she was around 4 when our great-grandmother, Sally, passed away. I remember people gathering to sit shiva (7 days of mourning, traditional Jewish practice), and I remember Jo asking me where Nana was...I can only assume that no one else overheard my explanation, since she had gotten a little freaked out by all the people and was crouched in a corner of the walk-in closet when my explanation happened, so no one corrected me in my overgeneralization...but still, is it OK that my parents applied a totally Christian belief to the dog, thus completely avoiding having to answer more questions? It's a little weird, and I never really put it together until recently.
Death is probably the biggest hurdle we have to cross with our little ones, eh? Trying not to scare them, but allowing them to feel pain and sadness at loss and making sure they know that that is OK...
Posting this now, though it's from 3 days ago. I really have to get over thinking that I'll get back to my same frame of mind after a couple of days dealing with nap-less-ness...ah well...
So why do I have memories of telling my little cousin that Nana Sally was looking down on us from Heaven???
Once again, I'm getting ahead of myself. The first time I had to deal with death, I was 10 years old. Our family dog, Missy, had hit the ripe age of 14, and it was time to let her go. My parents (not their best judgment, if you ask me) allowed her to survive through my 10th birthday and then my dad took her the following morning (without telling me, without letting me say goodbye, etc). I think they just didn't want to ruin my birthday, but come on!
Anyway, I vaguely recall my father trying to calm my inevitable hysteria by telling me that Missy was in a better place, that she was running in a field, not feeling any pain,...you know the drill.
I guess, in spite of the years of Hebrew school, this somehow became part of what made sense to me...so much so that I found myself explaining it to my little cousin when I was somewhere around 14 and she was around 4 when our great-grandmother, Sally, passed away. I remember people gathering to sit shiva (7 days of mourning, traditional Jewish practice), and I remember Jo asking me where Nana was...I can only assume that no one else overheard my explanation, since she had gotten a little freaked out by all the people and was crouched in a corner of the walk-in closet when my explanation happened, so no one corrected me in my overgeneralization...but still, is it OK that my parents applied a totally Christian belief to the dog, thus completely avoiding having to answer more questions? It's a little weird, and I never really put it together until recently.
Death is probably the biggest hurdle we have to cross with our little ones, eh? Trying not to scare them, but allowing them to feel pain and sadness at loss and making sure they know that that is OK...
Posting this now, though it's from 3 days ago. I really have to get over thinking that I'll get back to my same frame of mind after a couple of days dealing with nap-less-ness...ah well...
Friday, January 14, 2011
A Rosen by any other name...
OK, so I was trying to figure out exactly what about being raised Jewish is really a part of my identity. When I think about my sense of self, what parts of "me" do I actually associate with Jewishness, in general? It just seemed a natural way to connect with people when I was living in NYC. The sense of humour, the intonations with a slight Yiddish bent, the constant looking for a bargain ;)
But I think perhaps I should start back a bit further...
First of all, my maiden name is Rosen. Which is like the Jewish version of Smith. And I never really thought about that growing up in Miami, FL, because really, there was a little bit of everything. My graduating class was about 800 people, and a total melting pot. I was a debate geek, as were most of my friends: Jewish, Hispanic, Asian, African-American, and of course, the average white kid mixed in for fun. The common factor being that we were, for the most part, in Honors and AP classes, and we all liked getting out of school to go to competitions (we were a nationally renowned team, which was pretty awesome). Then in college (Syracuse), same thing. Mixture of friends, different backgrounds, but religion never really came into it, beyond the late-night philosophy sessions...
And then I decided to go to graduate school in Iowa City, IA. Suddenly, being Jewish was a rarity. Imagine my surprise at realizing that I was the first Jewish person that my best buddy, Monica, had ever met! She was very curious, and I realized I had to step it up a little in order to answer her questions. My thesis advisor was an MOT as well, but I think we were the only ones. Granted, I really only knew our small department, and the few people I met outside of classes like my housemates...
My first real eye-opener: I was doing my hours in the hearing clinic. Back before digital hearing aids, we would have a chance, as a university clinic, to test patients with 3 or 4 different types of hearing aids to see which ones they did best with. So I was working with this older gentleman, and Monica was across the room with a different patient. After about 90 minutes with the man, we started going over his results and talking about which hearing aids would be best for him. His off-the-cuff remark to me, " Wow, they really try to Jew ya with the prices of these hearing aids".
Whoa.
He wasn't trying to be an ass, I don't think. Though it seemed apparent to ME, wearing my last name on my nametag, I suppose it was just common discourse. Monica ran over to me after he was gone asking if I was OK...and admitted that she'd used the term growing up, just because she never knew it applied to real people, it was just the phrase she learned. Which I think was pretty big of her to own up to...
The other odd thing was when one of my professors gave me a hard time about switching a group project due date as it fell on Yom Kippur weekend. I just remember her asking the class with exasperation, " Does anyone else have a problem with this date?"....ummm....no....I am the only Jew here...
Generally speaking, Iowa City was a liberal haven in the midwest, but it really was the first time I'd felt my Jewishness as something a bit, well, extraordinary, I suppose. It really made me think about how I identified myself. There's a bit of pride, I think, at being a part of a people/culture who have been persecuted for so long by so many. You know that Tom Lehrer song National Brotherhood Week?(you can listen to it here if you don't know it...), "...And everybody hates the Jews"...There's something in my identity with that fatalistic, self-depricating sense of humour, and this was really the first time that I wasn't surrounded by more of the same...
Monday, January 10, 2011
Secular Judaism? Is that like Jumbo Shrimp?
Neither really sound too kosher to me.
So I've come across a few references to "secular Judaism" recently...all the culture, none of the God stuff? Not sure how I feel about this...But it's made me think a lot about what, if anything, I WOULD like Ellie to experience as a technical MOT (Member of the Tribe). What parts about being raised as a "nice Jewish girl" are worth passing on? How much of that is based in Judaism, versus basic parenting?
Let me just start by saying that I am, by no means, an expert in Talmudic studies or Jewish history...I had a good foundation as a little kid, but let's face it, that was a looooong time ago. Considering how much I tried to distance myself from all that as I got older, I now find myself fascinated by theology. Perhaps a part of me has always been curious, as a science-geek and avid reader, I have read a fair amount of fiction with religious themes, be they farce (Good Omens), dark comedy (Towing Jehovah), children's books (Narnia, of course, but also His Dark Materials), historical fiction (The Red Tent), and more.
But right now, I really just need to figure what parts of my Jewish heritage has meaning, to me, that's worth passing on to her. And that means looking a little deeper than I have in awhile.
So I've come across a few references to "secular Judaism" recently...all the culture, none of the God stuff? Not sure how I feel about this...But it's made me think a lot about what, if anything, I WOULD like Ellie to experience as a technical MOT (Member of the Tribe). What parts about being raised as a "nice Jewish girl" are worth passing on? How much of that is based in Judaism, versus basic parenting?
Let me just start by saying that I am, by no means, an expert in Talmudic studies or Jewish history...I had a good foundation as a little kid, but let's face it, that was a looooong time ago. Considering how much I tried to distance myself from all that as I got older, I now find myself fascinated by theology. Perhaps a part of me has always been curious, as a science-geek and avid reader, I have read a fair amount of fiction with religious themes, be they farce (Good Omens), dark comedy (Towing Jehovah), children's books (Narnia, of course, but also His Dark Materials), historical fiction (The Red Tent), and more.
But right now, I really just need to figure what parts of my Jewish heritage has meaning, to me, that's worth passing on to her. And that means looking a little deeper than I have in awhile.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
To Jew, or not to Jew...Jew know what I mean?
OK, so here's the scoop. This past holiday season totally stressed me out and I've been desperately trying to figure out how I want to raise Ellie ethically, but without religion.
Wait, let me back up...
Hi. I'm Melanie. I'm a 36 year old mama to a lovely little monkey named Eleanor. I've said for years that I'm a "recovering Jew", but perhaps that's not really fair. I'm married to a wonderfully patient man, Trent. He's a "recovering Catholic". You can see where this is going, right?
For a long time, I didn't give much thought about what it meant to have been "raised Jewish". Well, except that for much of my life, I lived in places with a good percentage of other Jews (Miami,FL; New York,NY), so I guess I just kinda took it for granted ('til I lived in Raleigh, NC and Iowa City, IA). I only ever dated one Jewish boy. For 2 weeks in college. Basically just to be able to tell my family, "Hey, I tried". He had asthma and was allergic to the handmade sweaters my mother made me. Destined for failure.
I feel like I should back up a little more. Don't worry, I won't go back the whole 5771 years.
My father was raised in a kosher home. Though not Orthodox, his upbringing was much more conservative than my mother's. He didn't have lobster until he was 21. His father, my Zeida, passed away a few months before I was born. His mother, my Baba Vicki, survived into my 30s. She was perhaps the meanest, most spiteful person I've ever met. She epitomized every BAD stereotype you've ever heard about Jewish mothers. She was awful to my mom, and essentially stopped speaking to me when I got my first tattoo. My father still attends temple on the high holidays.
My mother is Jewish, but was raised much more reformed. No bat-mitzvah. But the culture is there, as is the ability to make any meat tasteless (sorry, Ma). Her grandparents, Abe and Sophie Lipshitz, were every GOOD stereotype you ever heard about Jewish grandparents. I was lucky to know them both into my 20s.
So when my parents wed, my Baba was horrified that her baby boy wasn't going to live in a kosher home, even though my mother was "a nice Jewish girl", and she made it pretty tough on both my parents. Long story short, my parents moved from NY to FL 3 months after I was born. I was raised Jewish, to the extent that I attended Hebrew Day School from preschool through Grade 3: half the day was Hebrew and religious studies, the rest was English and everything else.
Have you ever gone to Hebrew school? Have you ever been sent HOME from Hebrew school for taking Oreos to school (before they were kosher--they used to be made with lard)? Ever been teased/mocked by a bunch of rich, snotty Jewish kids? Let's just say these were NOT my favorite childhood moments. I was a skinny little kid with a big nose, a shy disposition, and I asked "why?"...a lot.
By the time I was 10, I was begging my parents to let me go to public school. And after apparently being a kid who was fluent enough to talk in her sleep in Hebrew (yep), I promptly put it all behind me and was enrolled in a "normal" school for grade 4. So all of a sudden, I had all these questions for my folks: who's this Santa guy? why do they get all their presents at once? can we have a Hannukah bush?
By the time I was approaching 13, we had to talk Bat Mitzvah. I told my father, quite honestly, I must say, that I didn't think I WANTED a bat-mitzvah, that I didn't know if I believed in all that. It's a pretty big deal, to say you're ready to take your place as an adult member of the Jewish community at 13. Not only that, a big party meant having to invite friends...and I didn't HAVE a lot of friends (just because I changed schools didn't make me suddenly less shy, less gawky, or more popular)!
The response from my father: Are you TRYING to kill your grandmother?...Look. Have the bat-mitzvah, and I'll never make you go back to temple again
Done.
So I've been back to temple a handful of times, either for weddings or by virtue of being guilted into it by my best friend in NYC, Julie. And I'm Jewish the way Seinfeld is Jewish. The culture is there, for sure. I can still read Hebrew, though I don't know what it means anymore (I had actually forgotten most of it in the 3 years of public school). Movies about the holocaust make me queasy. I worked as a consulting educational audiologist for 2 years in Monsey, NY, which has a very large Orthodox/Hassidic population. I knew not to shake the men's hands, nor to make eye contact, show my tattoos, or wear hot pink so as not to make anyone uncomfortable. There are still Yiddish words in my vocabulary.
When I met Trent, it wasn't like I was uber-Jew. When we decided to get married, there wasn't much discussion about any religion. He had gone to Catholic school because it was a good school, and to Tufts for the same reason. He had no qualms about keeping religion out of things. , We eloped and wrote our own ceremony, which included a couple things from a couple of different religions. We broke a glass because I think that's a cool way to symbolize the fragility of the marriage that we were beginning.
So all this is a long-winded background as to why I have started a new blog. It's a new year. Trent and I have been married since 2006 and in September 2008, we moved from NYC to Ottawa, ON. Now keep in mind, in NY, we lived in 700 square feet. And come on. It was NYC. There was no lack of things to do for a Jew on Christmas--Chinese food and a movie, baby! But Christmas time was always a bit frustrating for a Jewish kid, no matter if I was non-practicing. The music starts in the stores right after Halloween, and it's like there's this big party that you're not invited to. Well, with Trent around, and in our new "grown up" house in Ottawa, I figured I could cater the party, even if it wasn't for me. I surprised him with a tree (another story for another time, but suffice it to say that the dog basically ate a branch a day, earning her the nickname The Dog Who Ate Christmas.
In February 2010, we welcomed little Miss Eleanor into our lives. And all of a sudden, I went into full-out, hard core panic mode as to how on Earth we were going to raise an ethical and moral child without religion, without this kind of community or identity.
Well, that's not entirely true. It didn't happen right away. There were a few times when it would cross my mind But as the holiday season approached and we had to start fielding questions from relatives on both sides (What does Ellie want for Hannukah/Christmas? Will you be lighting the menorah with her? Will you get a photo of her on Santa's lap? ...), it sort of hit me that I really hadn't figured out how I wanted to handle all of this. I went into Super-Jew mode and made fresh latkes, downloaded the Hannukah prayers (I could only remember 2 of the 3!), and we lit the candles 4 of the 8 nights (a record for me in the last 25 years, I think).
Lighting the Menorah
And then we prepared for a trip to the States to see my husband's family. And the Christmas frenzy began in earnest. This kid wracked up more loot than I've ever seen.
Both Trent and I consider ourselves pretty down-to-Earth in terms of not buying into the consumerism (pun intended), for the most part. Especially for a 9 or 10 mo old little person who really does enjoy the boxes and paper more than the presents...but how do you handle everyone ELSE!?
We talked about it a lot on the way home--it's easy with a 12 hour car trip...And I really had to get my head on straight as to how I felt about all this stuff, before I could hope to convey a clear message of some sort to Eleanor as she grows up. I dove into (re-) reading Parenting Beyond Belief and thus, the birth of a new blog.
Join me, as I muddle through the big questions while dealing with a very sweet little person. She's still too young to talk, yet, so I figure I'm ahead of the game for the time being. May the Force be with us....
Wait, let me back up...
Hi. I'm Melanie. I'm a 36 year old mama to a lovely little monkey named Eleanor. I've said for years that I'm a "recovering Jew", but perhaps that's not really fair. I'm married to a wonderfully patient man, Trent. He's a "recovering Catholic". You can see where this is going, right?
For a long time, I didn't give much thought about what it meant to have been "raised Jewish". Well, except that for much of my life, I lived in places with a good percentage of other Jews (Miami,FL; New York,NY), so I guess I just kinda took it for granted ('til I lived in Raleigh, NC and Iowa City, IA). I only ever dated one Jewish boy. For 2 weeks in college. Basically just to be able to tell my family, "Hey, I tried". He had asthma and was allergic to the handmade sweaters my mother made me. Destined for failure.
I feel like I should back up a little more. Don't worry, I won't go back the whole 5771 years.
My father was raised in a kosher home. Though not Orthodox, his upbringing was much more conservative than my mother's. He didn't have lobster until he was 21. His father, my Zeida, passed away a few months before I was born. His mother, my Baba Vicki, survived into my 30s. She was perhaps the meanest, most spiteful person I've ever met. She epitomized every BAD stereotype you've ever heard about Jewish mothers. She was awful to my mom, and essentially stopped speaking to me when I got my first tattoo. My father still attends temple on the high holidays.
My mother is Jewish, but was raised much more reformed. No bat-mitzvah. But the culture is there, as is the ability to make any meat tasteless (sorry, Ma). Her grandparents, Abe and Sophie Lipshitz, were every GOOD stereotype you ever heard about Jewish grandparents. I was lucky to know them both into my 20s.
So when my parents wed, my Baba was horrified that her baby boy wasn't going to live in a kosher home, even though my mother was "a nice Jewish girl", and she made it pretty tough on both my parents. Long story short, my parents moved from NY to FL 3 months after I was born. I was raised Jewish, to the extent that I attended Hebrew Day School from preschool through Grade 3: half the day was Hebrew and religious studies, the rest was English and everything else.
Have you ever gone to Hebrew school? Have you ever been sent HOME from Hebrew school for taking Oreos to school (before they were kosher--they used to be made with lard)? Ever been teased/mocked by a bunch of rich, snotty Jewish kids? Let's just say these were NOT my favorite childhood moments. I was a skinny little kid with a big nose, a shy disposition, and I asked "why?"...a lot.
By the time I was 10, I was begging my parents to let me go to public school. And after apparently being a kid who was fluent enough to talk in her sleep in Hebrew (yep), I promptly put it all behind me and was enrolled in a "normal" school for grade 4. So all of a sudden, I had all these questions for my folks: who's this Santa guy? why do they get all their presents at once? can we have a Hannukah bush?
By the time I was approaching 13, we had to talk Bat Mitzvah. I told my father, quite honestly, I must say, that I didn't think I WANTED a bat-mitzvah, that I didn't know if I believed in all that. It's a pretty big deal, to say you're ready to take your place as an adult member of the Jewish community at 13. Not only that, a big party meant having to invite friends...and I didn't HAVE a lot of friends (just because I changed schools didn't make me suddenly less shy, less gawky, or more popular)!
The response from my father: Are you TRYING to kill your grandmother?...Look. Have the bat-mitzvah, and I'll never make you go back to temple again
Done.
So I've been back to temple a handful of times, either for weddings or by virtue of being guilted into it by my best friend in NYC, Julie. And I'm Jewish the way Seinfeld is Jewish. The culture is there, for sure. I can still read Hebrew, though I don't know what it means anymore (I had actually forgotten most of it in the 3 years of public school). Movies about the holocaust make me queasy. I worked as a consulting educational audiologist for 2 years in Monsey, NY, which has a very large Orthodox/Hassidic population. I knew not to shake the men's hands, nor to make eye contact, show my tattoos, or wear hot pink so as not to make anyone uncomfortable. There are still Yiddish words in my vocabulary.
When I met Trent, it wasn't like I was uber-Jew. When we decided to get married, there wasn't much discussion about any religion. He had gone to Catholic school because it was a good school, and to Tufts for the same reason. He had no qualms about keeping religion out of things. , We eloped and wrote our own ceremony, which included a couple things from a couple of different religions. We broke a glass because I think that's a cool way to symbolize the fragility of the marriage that we were beginning.
So all this is a long-winded background as to why I have started a new blog. It's a new year. Trent and I have been married since 2006 and in September 2008, we moved from NYC to Ottawa, ON. Now keep in mind, in NY, we lived in 700 square feet. And come on. It was NYC. There was no lack of things to do for a Jew on Christmas--Chinese food and a movie, baby! But Christmas time was always a bit frustrating for a Jewish kid, no matter if I was non-practicing. The music starts in the stores right after Halloween, and it's like there's this big party that you're not invited to. Well, with Trent around, and in our new "grown up" house in Ottawa, I figured I could cater the party, even if it wasn't for me. I surprised him with a tree (another story for another time, but suffice it to say that the dog basically ate a branch a day, earning her the nickname The Dog Who Ate Christmas.
In February 2010, we welcomed little Miss Eleanor into our lives. And all of a sudden, I went into full-out, hard core panic mode as to how on Earth we were going to raise an ethical and moral child without religion, without this kind of community or identity.
Well, that's not entirely true. It didn't happen right away. There were a few times when it would cross my mind But as the holiday season approached and we had to start fielding questions from relatives on both sides (What does Ellie want for Hannukah/Christmas? Will you be lighting the menorah with her? Will you get a photo of her on Santa's lap? ...), it sort of hit me that I really hadn't figured out how I wanted to handle all of this. I went into Super-Jew mode and made fresh latkes, downloaded the Hannukah prayers (I could only remember 2 of the 3!), and we lit the candles 4 of the 8 nights (a record for me in the last 25 years, I think).
Lighting the Menorah
And then we prepared for a trip to the States to see my husband's family. And the Christmas frenzy began in earnest. This kid wracked up more loot than I've ever seen.
Both Trent and I consider ourselves pretty down-to-Earth in terms of not buying into the consumerism (pun intended), for the most part. Especially for a 9 or 10 mo old little person who really does enjoy the boxes and paper more than the presents...but how do you handle everyone ELSE!?
We talked about it a lot on the way home--it's easy with a 12 hour car trip...And I really had to get my head on straight as to how I felt about all this stuff, before I could hope to convey a clear message of some sort to Eleanor as she grows up. I dove into (re-) reading Parenting Beyond Belief and thus, the birth of a new blog.
Join me, as I muddle through the big questions while dealing with a very sweet little person. She's still too young to talk, yet, so I figure I'm ahead of the game for the time being. May the Force be with us....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)