My author friend, Kate Moretti, asked if I was going to write a post about my Hanukkah traditions. And even though Hanukkah has been over for a month, I figured, why not. But be prepared. Apparently, I got a lot to say.
When I was a kid, Hanukkah was a magical time. It was the only time of year, other than your birthday, where you got presents. (*calling out to my kids* Do you hear that kids? You got presents only twice a year!) And not just a present. But 8 friggin presents! My grandparents would ask for a gift list in early October, which always crazy early to my kidself. I didn’t know what I wanted for Hanukkah in October! The Toys R Us catalog wasn’t out that early. On the other hand, my mom wouldn’t ask for a list until late November, early December. (By the way, things haven’t changed much with my kids.)
At some point, my mom (never my dad; and guess what? Things haven’t changed much. He’s as surprised at the gifts as my kids) would wrap all the presents (mine and my brother’s) and stack them all the way on top of my dad’s armoire. My brother and I would sit on my parents’ bed and stare at the gifts, trying to figure out what they were. Was that Justin’s Ninja Turtle? Was that my barbie? (Best thing for my parents about not having to worry about Santa, is they could hide the gifts in plain sight.) And then for each night, my mom would ask me if I wanted a big gift, medium gift, or small gift. Did I want to get my big present right away or wait and savor it? I think I always went big on the first night.
Usually, on the first night, my mom would make matzoh ball soup and latkes. Then my dad would drive us kids around the neighborhood so we could see the Christmas lights (there was one house a few blocks away that was ah-mazing) and count the menorahs in the windows. (I always say that we were made Jewish for a reason. Because if my father had to hang Christmas lights, his OCD would kick into overdrive.) We’d come home and light the menorah before opening gifts. Then on the weekend, my grandparents would visit and we would open all the presents they brought us. My grandma would make brisket and matzoh ball soup. (It’s so good, we’d have it all week).
Coming from Queens, there was familiarity and comfort in seeing other Jews living in the area. Of course, my hometown in Central Jersey was a mecca for displaced New Yorkers. My junior-year English class was easily 50% Jewish (I counted once). So, we never felt like outsiders for being a different religion. In fact, I didn’t feel like the odd-girl out until I went to college (in-state, mind you) and was one of only two Jewish students on my floor and met other Jersey kids who had never met a Jewish person before! And don’t even get me started on the time, my mom and I went to Denver for a bar mitzvah. The hotel shuttle driver, who was a nice guy, spoke to my mom and I for 20 minutes about how he once had a Jewish boss. (We were apparently the second and third Jewish people the man had ever met!) Anyway, I digress….
Now that I have kids, I’m trying to establish our own Hanukkah traditions. Although, I am not a religious person, I want my kids to appreciate their Jewish heritage. So a lot of what we do is cultural, not Godly. I have a large collection of menorahs, but I only light one. (It’s a bicycle menorah, if you’re curious). The rest are on display. I make a point of lighting the menorah in the right order, from right to left using the Shamash (leader candle). I say the prayer, although I had to download it from the Internet to get the phonetic pronunciation because hell if I remember how to read Hebrew. My husband fries up the best latkes, but we don’t use my grandma’s recipe (we use Duff Golman’s on FoodNetwork). My boys get small gifts for each of the eight days. Because they also get Christmas gifts and my older son’s birthday is a week after that, the boys receive books. Mostly, if not all, their gifts are books. Maybe a toy car, a coloring book, a CD. But small gifts. Hanukkah is not meant to compete with Christmas. And the idea of giving them 8 medium-to-large gifts is not only overwhelming, but ludicrous and I refuse to do it. Anyway, that night, I read the boys their new books and some Hanukkah stories from the library. Earlier that evening, they might even watch Shalom Sesame. (Perhaps, we can all learn something.) We don’t drive around the neighborhood counting menorahs because there are very few Jews where I live and it’s sort of depressing.
I say we’re an interfaith family. We’re certainly not dual-faith as we don’t religiously school our kids in Catholicism and Judaism and I can’t say we’re no faith either. Although, what my husband and I know about our respective faiths could fit in a shot glass. But despite our lack of knowledge about our religions, we value our cultural backgrounds and want to instill those values in our kids.
So, ask me how I celebrate Hanukkah now…well, it’s a little of this from my youth and some new things I’m trying out. And perhaps, somewhere in between latkes and Shalom Sesame, my children are filing away these traditions in their adorable, young brains for their future families. One can only hope they are being good listeners.