The Santa Talk (Jewish Edition)

It's that jolly time of year! Maybe because Chanukah is already long over, this Christmas season has arrived in seemingly brighter shades of red and green than usual.

Or maybe it's just that my two-year-old is experiencing her first conscious Christmas. And she's blown away. For a week or two, we couldn't walk through the lobby of our building without Louisa stopping to admire the electric menorah. Then, one day, the TREE arrived. No matter that the tree itself is made of green plastic confetti (such a bummer--what's the point without the lovely smell?); it is towering, it is covered in shiny colored balls and lights, it has wrapped presents and a little baby Jesus snuggled underneath its embracing fronds. All in all, completely amazing to two-and-a-half-year-old eyes. It's difficult to pull her away.

When we finally step foot out of our building, within three blocks we encounter one of several Christmas tree vendors, camped out on the sidewalk 'til the big day, with their dozens of trees, bright lights, and blow-up Santas.

Let me back up. This child already has an abiding love for symbols of the dominant faith. She loves church bells. She knows which churches in our neighborhood have the ringing capability, and squeals on the occasions that the bells happen to sound when we are in hearing distance. "I hear the church bells!" she yells, which garners delighted smiles from passers-by, who probably imagine her as a future choirgirl.

Anyway, about the blow-up Santas. There's a giant one above the tree stand on the west side Broadway, and I've found myself distracting Louisa so she doesn't notice it. She'd have to look up to see it, so it's not that hard. All I have to do is strike up a conversation about what she did in school that day, or what we'll have for dinner, or whether we'll hear the church bells on the way home.

I just don't want to have the Santa talk with her just yet. You know, the Jewish version. The one where you tell your kids that different people believe different things and we have lots of nice beliefs but we don't believe in Santa. (And shhh, don't say anything to your friends about what I just told you about Santa. Bella made this mistake once and it still haunts her.)

Here's where I admit that I've been avoiding putting on one of the four episodes in the current TWC on-demand Dora rotation: "A Present For Santa".  Yes, that's right. I'm the Christmas censor. I figure Louisa can learn about Christmas on a need-to-know basis. This year: beautiful trees, lights, and empty fake presents that I constantly have to tell her to put back and stop shaking. Next year: red-cloaked bearded man brings presents to our neighbors, but not you.

(But, don't worry, we have Chanukah!!)

A Poem for Halloween Skeptics

It's that time of year, betwixt Succot and Thankgiving
Unavoidable, I fear, if you're among the living,
When storefronts and stoops full of cobwebs and spiders
Remind some of us Jews that we're really outsiders.

We're a club who were raised without this tradition--
Don't feel bad--we survived with this cultural omission.
As children we sat by the door giving sweets,
Instead of joining the goblins roaming the streets.

Our parents and rabbis said that this holiday
Was a pagan celebration that we must cast away.
Once an occasion to persecute our kind,
It's a day of dark memory; pogroms spring to mind.

Say what? your friends say, with their Halloween cheer
You missed out on the very best day of the year!
There's nothing so fun as dressing up spooky,
And eating miniature chocolates 'til you're feeling kooky.

No one cares what this holiday once used to be,
In our country right now, it's all kids and candy.
And, no, Purim don't fly as a just substitution.
Since Christmas is out, there's only one solution.

I submit; let the kids go cavort with their neighbors,
I may not enjoy it, but they love the favor.
I teach them to be kind, grateful and sociable,
And remind them: sharing their loot is non-negotiable.

But I must draw the line at my kid's innocent question:
"Won't you dress up as a witch? It's just a suggestion."
Not a chance, my dear. This is your thing, not mine.
Now don't get me started, I might change my mind.

To all of my fellow Halloween skeptics
Concerned that our kids are lacking in ethics
At least we get points for flexibility and fun
Good luck tomorrow! You may need a ton.

 

Love, Chocolate, and Cultural Alienation

Valentine's Day is one of those days on the American calendar that makes me think about that ubiquitous adolescent debate from the USY kinnusim of my youth: Are you a Jewish American or an American Jew? Obviously, I'm both: American in many ways (ask my British friends), Jewish in many ways (ask my gentile friends).

I grew up in the American suburbs and I know all about riding my bike around quiet streets with no sidewalks, backyard barbecues, baseball games and the Super Bowl. At my Jewish summer camp there was always a 4th of July celebration, complete with square dancing, and in my Jewish school we celebrated Martin Luther King's birthday. But, at that same school there was nary a mention of Saint Valentine's Day. Same at home: no flowers, and no chocolates. My parents wouldn't even mention it. It was like Christmas! Just a regular day.

Not until my children went to a secular American school (in London, as it happens), did I first discover that it is customary on Valentines Day for children to distribute cards to everyone they know with chocolates attached to them. In kindergarden, Bella was assigned to make Valentines cards for all of her classmates (educational value? Writing the kids' names, I told myself...). I thought it was odd--what does a holiday about romantic love have to do with kids?

Well, my kids could answer that question in two seconds: anything having to do with chocolate is clearly meant for kids. The love stuff? Secondary and incidental. (We like good chocolate, and Bella and Ruby have developed a taste for what we call in our house "grown-up chocolate"-- that is, the 70% dark stuff. We used to be able to buy it and keep it to ourselves, but no longer.)

Some may say that Valentine's day is a "Hallmark" holiday, like Mother's Day, designed for consumer consumption. Certainly, when I walk through CVS this time of year, I see a lot of red and pink products for sale. It's the same aisle that's covered in orange and black in October, another month when I'm reminded of the ways in which I was raised within, and yet apart, from some American cultural obsessions. Halloween, when I was a child, meant sitting inside the front door of my house and waiting to give out candy to the neighborhood children. Does that sound cruel to you? It never seemed like anything but good fun to me, which is part of the strangeness of this particular type of cultural alienation. If you haven't done it, you don't really miss it. I don't seem to have the muscle memory for Valentine's Day or Halloween.

Perhaps our twenty-something babysitter was surprised when she asked if we were going out tonight, and I said no. After 18+ years together, Josh and I are good. (I love you, honey.) We can toast our relationship any day: ideally one when the restaurants don't all have over-priced pre-fixe menus.

I think I'll go buy us all some chocolate, though. Tomorrow, when it's on sale.