Why There's a Plaster Jesus in My Basement, or Another Christmas Blogfrom a Jewish Blogger

Unlike many of my fellow Jews, my Christmas custom is NOT eating Chinese food and going to the movies on Christmas day, although there was a time when I  have done that.  (This Christmas Eve is another story!)

Menorah Christmas Tree= Holiday FAIL

For the past, oh, ten? years we have spent Christmas day driving to Maine.  Not a very festive thing to do, but my father-in-law's birthday is December 26th, and we like to be there to celebrate, and it's really a great day to drive.  No one is on the roads!  This backfired exactly twice when we broke down and, as I say, NO ONE was on the roads. But usually it's smooth sailing and we get up to our igloo away from home in record time.

Some years, like this year, and in years past, we leave for Maine on the 26th,  and attend a wonderful Christmas party with family friends.  We have been going to their party since my brother and I were children, and it's a joy to go now that our own kids are grown. 

But there were years before that when I didn't live around my family, and I had to find other things to do on Christmas. Since I had just come home for Thanksgiving, sometimes I would offer to work over Christmas to let the other people get the time off.

When I lived in San Francisco, I was the case manager a group home for teens who could no longer live at home. We only had six beds, and all six were always filled.  I remember those kids so well, each one has a place in my heart.  Some of them were easy to love, and some of them made themselves a little tougher. Some of them had families who wanted them back, and some of them had families that were so dysfunctional that we could not let them go back, not even for an hour on Christmas. For those kids, we would supervise Christmas or Christmas Eve visits in the living room of our house.  A mysterious donor always send a Christmas tree about a week before, and we would decorate it with a few ancient decorations.  (I learned the word "flocking" at this time.) The kids started to behave better, or worse, depending on what emotions were being drummed up inside.  They usually liked that this was my only Christmas.

We had very strict rules about behavior.  No infractions meant you could go to the store and buy some gifts for your housemates, or family members, if you were still in touch.  But if you had broken rules, you had only on-grounds privileges, and someone else had to do your shopping. The state gave us some money to buy the kids gifts, and some of their parents brought presents, if they knew that a visit was not to be.  We did not have an "angel" or a "sugar daddy." No one thought about these kids as a charity worth a "toy drive" or a "drop off."  They weren't adorable, or pitiful, or glamorous. Just kids who had had it really rough. I was just a kid myself, looking back, just 26.

Ted was violent, but only sometimes.  Other times he was smooth and a ladies man.  He was about 6'1" already, very nice looking, and only 16. He lied as easily at telling the truth. My strongest memory about Ted was the night we caught him drinking and he was about to lose his privileges.  "Ted, you made some bad choices and..." and before I knew it, he had smashed the empty vodka bottle found under his bed and was holding it menacingly in my face.  My heart was racing.  Just at that moment another worker arrived behind him and took the bottle away.  Ted was taken to Juvenile Hall.  I don't know what happened to him.

Shelly had it rough. Her mom simply couldn't handle her. "Take her," she said. She was way more into finding drugs and finding alcohol than finding Shelley after school.  Luckily Shelley found Jesus and the church helped Shelley.  But Shelley never let anyone in again.  Except for me.  Shelley and I are still in touch.

Rosanne was 14 when she arrive at Pathways. She had already had an abortion. Rosanne was the only Jewish kid there when I was there, so I invited her to come to my house to celebrate Hanukkah one night. I knew this was against the rules, but since I was, by now, the manager, I bent the rules when I needed to. She shared her story in the car.  Mom's new husband came to her room every night.  When she told mom about this, Mom slapped her and called her a whore and a liar, and kicked her out on the street.  But Rosanne was pregnant, and she dragged herself to a hospital, who called the state.  After the abortion, she came to us, and we were working on emancipating her when she became 16.

Dwayne was Ted's roommate, and was soft spoken.  He became his true self after Ted left, and we saw a glimmer of joy in his eyes, when he was no longer living in fear of Ted.  He became more and more confident.  His issues were many, stemming from learning disabilities, school anxiety and a single mom who simply gave up on him.  Dwayne had a much older brother who came to visit and brought him home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and gave him a sense of family.

Denise.   Denise was black. I was there the day she was dropped off by her white mom. Her mom was clearly drunk, and Denise was clinging to her. It was a heart wrenching scene.  Her mother loudly announced for all to hear that she was fine with Denise's placement at Pathways.  The court appointed social worker tried to bring us all into my office to finish the paper work, but Denise's mother was anxious to leave.  Her school placement was at an all-girls Catholic school, and it seemed to be a good match for her. 

Her roommate was Kim, our oldest resident, and the big sister to other girls.  Kim had been arrested several times for several different small crimes, each of them just seemed to say "Get me out of my house," and finally she got out.  At 17, she was nearly ready to be on her own.  Her grades were good, she had a part time job, and I had just gotten her a checking account.  Our latest mini-battle with Kim was the amount of time she wanted to spend with her boyfriend. 

So it  was Christmas.  It was my third year at Pathways, so I knew the drill.  We started nice and early working to find places for the kids to go, because with troubled families (and with healthy ones) things can always go wrong.  All the kids were in the group home on Christmas Eve Day, so we did our present exchange that day.

By Christmas Eve, a few of the kids had places to go.  Those who were there were treated to a nice dinner, cooked by me (usually the kids took turns cooking as part of the therapy of becoming independent).  We watched a Christmas movie on TV and drank hot cocoa. (I always offered to take the shifts because I was the only Jewish employee.)

I put a few gifts I had bought for the last few kids under the tree.  The only one who had nowhere to go on Christmas Day was Denise.  Once everyone was gone, I broke the news to her.  She was coming with me, and my husband to spend Christmas with us.

This was, of course, against the rules. She didn't have off-ground privileges, and she wasn't supposed to go in the car with me.  And neither of those minor details was going to stop me.  Denise got all dressed up in her nicest clothes, coat and scarf, and we were off.   

I drove her up to my apartment, picked up my husband and we headed into San Francisco.  Looking into my rear view mirror I could see she was bubbling with excitement.

First stop...Chinatown!   Our Christmas dinner was a Chinese feast of dumplings, wonton soup and spareribs!  It was all a first for her, and she loved it.

Then, off to the movies, to see the new Star Trek movie.  She had been to the movies before, but not for a very long time, and she was thrilled.  

We had a great time, and it was a lot of fun to treat Denise to a special day, even if it was not exactly the most traditional Christmas for her.

Then back to the Pathways by 5:30 or so, when the next shift of staff was to arrive and the other kids were arriving back, with their stories of dysfunction, fighting and complaining.  And Denise smiling ear to ear.

After Christmas, we made sure things get back to normal very quickly because it stirs up so much for the kids. But after school one day, Denise came into my office and said she had a surprise for me.  She handed me a wrapped gift, tissue paper, ribbon, the works.  

"Merry Late Christmas, and Happy Hanukkah, and Happy New Year too. I made you this in art class.  Thanks for the best Christmas I have ever had."

She stood there while I opened it.  It was this plaster Jesus head.  She was bursting with pride.  

I have treasured it and kept it ever since.  When my kids were little I hid it, so they would not be confused.  How do you explain why a Jewish family has a plaster Jesus in the basement?   But there's nothing confusing about helping someone feel loved and celebrate her holiday.  

So, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and I wish you all the love and joy of the season.

Yes, Elizabeth, there is a Thanksgivukkah

I'm celebrating Thanksgivukkah tomorrow.  

I know many of my colleagues have written blog posts,  Facebook updates and tweets telling the world we should stop mixing the two holidays.  But guess what folks.  We have no choice!  Hanukkah begins tonight at sundown, (the 25th of Kislev) making tomorrow, Thanksgiving Day, the first day of Hanukkah.  If you are an American Jew, you are celebrating both on the same day.  And it's FINE!

What's to worry about?  Are you afraid we will Americanize Hanukkah?  Are you worried we will start giving gifts on Thanksgiving?  (Actually my mom has been giving chocolate turkeys to the kids since forever... kind of like gelt... hmmm... maybe there is some crossover.)

The truth is, and you'll know this if you read my last blog about Thanksgiving (click here to read it again) my kids have always thought Thanksgiving WAS a Jewish holiday.   Look at the evidence:  1. We are Jews. 
2. There is ritual involved... we say the shehechyanu (a prayer expressing our thankfulness of being back together and reaching this auspicious time) candles on the table (though no blessing) and we go around the table and say what we are thankful for and we get our flu shots 3. there's a huge meal for which 4. we are a little bit dressed up and 5. the good dishes are used.  

And then there's Hanukkah... which always falls on the 25th of Kislev, which whether you are Jewish or not, you'll know that could be any time between November and January.  A fun holiday, great for kids, a big hit in the Religious School world, but not necessarily in the religious world.  

So why are people getting so worked up that we are mashing them up together like a delicious concoction of latkes and cran-appple sauce?  

American Gothikkah
Some people found this one a bit offensive

One signifies our the Jewish people's freedom from oppression, the other celebrates the American people's day of thanks for the bounty.  You want to get real nit-picky, go ahead. Want to go all negative?  Save it for your grown-up talk when the kids go to sleep.  Let's have fun.  These holidays are fun, and  are meant to celebrate the best things:  Freedom, lights, appreciation, family.  I am fairly certain they go together as about well as latkes and turkey, which by they way, will be deep fried in oil this year, at our celebration.

What else will we be doing?  Well, lighting the menorah and giving gifts, of course.  Because for the first time in many years, I will get to celebrate Hanukkah with MY children, who do not live home any more.  Thanks to this fluke of the calendar, I will have my three children lighting the Hanukkiah (Hanukkah menorah) together, not just with their parents, but with their grandparents and cousins! Maybe the kids will be getting chocolate gelt and chocolate turkeys!

My T shirt from ModernTribe.com
I have been wearing it every day.

Parents, I don't think that your children will complain in perpetuity that they do not get gifts every Thanksgiving.  I think if you do this one up right, your families, like mine, will remember with a smile, that funky year when the secular and the Jewish calendars collided and we got to celebrate both together.  And eat jelly donuts with our pumpkin pie.

Other "mashups" I've heard of out there: 

• menurkey (or menurky): referring to a menorah in the shape of a turkey
• gobbletov: a silly made up greeting usable just this once
• and my favorite Tur-brisk-a-fil ... like a turducken, except this delicacy, just in time for Thanksgiving, is a turkey, stuffed brisket, stuffed with gefilte fish!  Hold me back! (No, seriously, hold me back.)

That's enough, I think I've made my point and anyway it's time to make the latkes for the Thanksgiving feast.  

And yes, I did sew tiny little yarmulkes onto the heads of the turkeys on the banquet-sized tablecloth I got for my mom at Bed Bath and Beyond. 

Mother's Day

I vacillate between thinking it's a Hallmark holiday, and a really special day.  In fact, just now when I went to dictionary.com to spell check vacillate, right there, in bold type, it said MOTHER = HERO.  When I clicked on the banner, it showed Rosie the Riveter, with her polka dot shmata on, sleeve rolled up, feminine fist in my face, with the words, "Mother: The Toughest Job Description."*  Think about that ... it doesn't even make that much sense... but don't mess with us anyhow, you wimps. 

Even if you aren't a mom, you have or had a mom.  Most of us can dredge up some sentimentality for our moms on this day, even if their relationships weren't the best.  I'm lucky.  I am a mother, I have known two of my great-grandmothers, both of my grandmothers, and I have a great relationship with my mom, and my mother-in-law.  Did I say I am lucky?  I am extremely blessed. 

I must say though, that the card companies really rake it in... and there were times where I spent the better part, wait, no, the worst part of an hour choosing the right card for the Grandmothers, and the mothers from each of the kids and one from my husband and me... usually with a whiny child in a stroller and another falling apart in the aisle.  A funny one.  A sentimental one.  Too mushy?  Too funny? Is this what I really want to say?  Would my husband like this? What am I thinking...he'll sign whatever I put in front of him.  I'd leave with my $79 worth of cards with pink, peach, and purple envelopes, usually to get home find that at least two didn't fit.  Then to get everyone to sign them and mail them on time.  

My Mom, at 12

Now the great-grandmothers are gone.  The kids do not live here anymore.  I've spent more time on this blog than I will in the card store. 

I'm long past the construction paper cards and the wooden-bead necklaces and paper crowns.   I hope the kids are picking out their own cards... and I just realized how much I miss that time, and my grandmothers too. They'd call the minute they got our cards, exclaiming they were even better than last year, the flowers, even more beautiful. I would gladly trade that miserable hour of standing in the Gold Crown store for a little more time with "Little Grandma" and "Gigi."  Or to hold my hand over my son's as he tried to spell his name in cursive to be fancy for his "Baya."

So aside from the fact that the card stores, the florists,  restaurants cash in on Mother's Day, what can we do to make it less commercial and more meaningful?  For one thing... those of us who live by the Judeo-Christian ethic, and there are one or two, I believe, can validate this holiday as fulfilling half the commandment of honoring your Mother and your Father.  (Obviously the second half to be fulfilled in June.)  I know I honor the memory of my grandmothers and my husband's grandmothers by maintaining the values for which they struggled.  And I think a great way I  honor my mother and my mother-in-law is in the way my husband and I raise our children.  All three show their grandmothers (and grandfathers, but again this is Mother's Day) deep respect and love.  My kids call, text, and Facebook, and yes even visit their grandparents.  Although it's true that the grandparents NEVER see the Facebook messages and probably only see about 1/3 of the texts, they get it.  In fact, its very unlikely they will see this declaration of love to them, unless I print it and bring it over for Sunday brunch.  

I love my mother.  
I love being a mother.
I love that I can see my daughter as a link in an incredibly strong chain of women... but maybe that's for another blog.

So, I'll end with this.  Maybe Mother's Day IS a fabricated scam of a holiday, designed to get you to spend money.  But I just realized that I'm okay with it.  I just realized that I wouldn't trade anything for those precious days when I took off from work to attend a Mother's Day Tea with my third grader's class!  Or when I came home from the a long day of work and there were crepe paper flowers in a hand-painted ceramic pot sitting at my place at the dinner table. 

And for you kids who may be reading this, no matter how old you are, we moms aren't joking when we say we'd rather have a home-made gift than a store-bought one!  So you don't have to buy into the whole commercial "Your Mom Needs A Diamond Bracelet or You Are Crap" business.  Cook something.  Create something.  Send her some new music.  (That might just be me.)

As for this mom?  I want nothing more than to sit a the same table with my three kids, my husband and my parents, and my brother's family, and any other family we can bring together, and have a great meal with some excellent music and a pitcher of  margaritas. Maybe outside! If you want to make me a pink-dyed macaroni necklace, I'll gladly wear that too. 

Happy Mother's Day to all.  

Okay, one more thing... We do like flowers. If you haven't ordered flowers yet, consider going with fair trade this year.  Click here for one link to Fair Trade flowers for Mother's Day.  We moms would appreciate you not exploiting other moms to get us our bouquets.

Alright, another last thing... here's a cute article from the Jewish Forward about Jewish Mothers, put on my Facebook page by my older son.  He had a few pretty funny 6-word descriptions for me... Click Here to open in a new window.

The five of us, in 2011

Me and my mom.  I'm sitting down.  Something funny is going on. 

Mother's Day, 2014... I must be growing up... I would also now welcome a meaningful donation to Mazon, Heifer International, Cancer Care or Shelter our Sisters.

*After going back to do my due diligence  this is a quote from Mary Kay Blakely.