A Hanukah Story

It's 6:15 am on Wednesday morning and out of nowhere I woke up with the urge to write again. Could it be my own Hanukah miracle from the universe? Assuming that must be the reason, I will also assume that, in keeping with the holiday mood, you are happy to see me because it's been such a long time and we really should do this more often. As my gift to you, I will not bore you with a laundry list of explanations or excuses about where I have been or what has been occupying my thoughts; been there, done that, doesn't matter. Bottom line, I'm in my bed, in the dark, tapping happily away on my shattered iPad (a casualty of my trip, currently held together with a screen protector), and I miss you. My Hanukah wish is that I get through this one, as opposed to the half-written entries I previously gave up on, and that when I wake up tomorrow my fingers once again find their way back to the keyboard.

So it's Hanukah and I have to say it’s kind of a quiet one. Not that it's ever been a giant fanfare or wannabe Christmas in this house, but without little kids around, it is a little lacking in the fun department. I think there are certain holidays, religious and secular, that go through "off-decades." For purposes of this blog I will stick with the Hanukah example, but think about Halloween, Purim (maybe a stretch), or I would guess, Easter. As a little kid every holiday is exciting; presents, days off from school, seeing the cousins you never otherwise see, good food, staying up late and all the grown-ups are in a pretty good mood (I figured out later that alcohol might have had something to do with that). Let's say that this feeling stays with you through middle school. At some point shortly thereafter, when you get a little wiser and a little more sullen, the glow begins to dim. The present thing is clearly defined in advance, you know what you want and, to avoid potential holiday meltdown, mom and dad usually wrap it up as a "faux surprise" and deliver it at the appropriate time.  Can't say I haven't been guilty of the same as a parent, but it does sort of suck the Happy out of Hanukah. As a parent, the best present I ever received was the look on their faces when I actually managed to surprise them with something unexpected; that sparkle, that smile, couldn’t be bought or wrapped. It’s the hardest thing to do; to think of something that allows that little boy grin to escape from deep beneath the Axe body spray, but when it does it's worth every penny or hoop you jumped through to make it happen. As young parents there's nothing better than snapping on that "My First Hanukah" bib (insert your own holiday choice), watching babies gum down their first latke and tearing open box after box of Fisher-Price joy. The toddler through elementary school years are the most fun for the kids and the most anxiety filled for the parents. Wish lists are long and painfully checked off by nervous parents who don't want to disappoint; nothing worse than having your kid come home to tell you that so-and-so got the one "it" toy that you could not get your hands on, that some more industrious or ingenious parent managed to find. In my case it helped that my mother-in-law (Nana P) was willing to risk bodily harm and financial ruin to make sure that she put a bow on exactly what they had dutifully marked in the giant Toys R Us catalog. I let her be the holiday hero and picked up the slack with the back-up gifts. I'm happy when they're happy and she generally stuck with the ground rules that noisy toys and messy craft projects stayed at her house. During the high school and college years we shifted to the one special gift theme, phones, iPods etc., or a family gift of a vacation or high-end sporting event. I remember announcing the first venture in this direction with a surprise trip to Mexico. Dinner was taco night (a big treat for my boys in its own right), little sombreros on the table, gift wrapped sunscreen and ultimately, the presentation of plane tickets and resort brochures. The giving was the gift for me and the memories from that trip lasted much longer than anything I have ever purchased at the Apple store. The tradition continued with Caribbean cruises and Celtics games, depending on the cash flow and the year (more specifically which ones included Bar Mitzvahs or college tuitions). I don't think anyone missed my feeble attempt at wrapping (for more years than I am willing to admit the superheroes and ninja turtles were presented night after night directly from the bag to their hands, I required eyes to be closed for excitement). I saved a good deal of money and time on wrapping supplies and still managed to create memories and stories that they tell to this day. We always lit the menorah, argued about who got to hold the shamash (the lead candle) and light the other candles, ate latkes and played dreidel games for foil-wrapped coins of surprisingly tasteless chocolate.

This year was unusually quiet, only 4 of us home. Suddenly the new reality that Scott has begun his next chapter, the one that doesn't include "winter break," was very apparent. Andrew reported to me that many of the parents who picked up their kids from the after school program that he works at 2 afternoons a week, arrived with little Hanukah surprises for their kids. I was a little jealous thinking that they were all headed home to hot latkes and grandparents and piles of presents, but I guess it's their turn for now. Someday in the coming years I'll get to be super grandma who finds all the cool toys and makes the best latkes, but at the moment our menorah flickers in a much quieter house. Last night I got to hold the shamash with no objections, we sang the blessings, and the colorful wax trickled down on top of the pink and purple and blue drips from years past (I like the waxy history, only scrape when necessary). The blue and white Hanukah cookies were a big hit (store bought, but didn't matter) and when I closed my eyes all 5 of us were there and giant Lego boxes were ripped open and assembled cross-legged on the floor for hours on end. With my eyes wide open, Andrew was overjoyed if not overly surprised with his Celtics/Knicks tickets for Christmas Day at Madison Square Garden (my own fault for spilling the beans to a friend on the phone within earshot of his room). He offered in return the elusive little boy smile, a giant hug with both arms (doesn't always come that way) and a kiss, priceless (and the ticket$ were not). David and Scott had less defined gifts; a few things they wanted or needed that we would not have otherwise been so generous with, were offered without argument. Their gift to us was genuine affection and appreciation and a hug and kiss from David (Scott was excused for geographical reasons). Jeffrey and I have never been much into the gift-giving thing, our happiness comes directly from theirs. Every now and then a present happens, but neither of us seem to need or want for anything that comes in a pretty package, and I always feel a bit guilty wishing for anything more than what life has already given me.

 

In that spirit I'm going to say goodbye for now, grateful that the words flowed so easily this morning. I have already been given the greatest gift of your friendship; your laughter at my sometimes inappropriate sense of humor, your support when I am sad or lonely, your cheers for my accomplishments and your forgiveness for my less than successful moments. If you're new to my journey (thinking about my new JCCA Israel trip family), feel free to wander back to where it all began on August 13th to understand why I'm here and what it's all about. The entries that followed, almost daily until early fall and some better than others, will tell you all you want to know and perhaps lots of stuff you don't. 8 months left in my slow approach to 50, hard to believe I've only been at this for 4 months, and I can't wait to see what is around the next corner. What I'm starting to realize is that the finish line may in fact be the starting gate, and that may be the best gift of all.