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Tossed Matza Friday

~~ Today I wanted to share with you some of my family’s warmest Passover moments. However, the good times are just that — good. There are no elaborate traditions, no transformational moments in a synagogue or visiting those who have passed. We just kibbutz, tell the tale of the exodus from Egypt, eat, and laugh. Some of us (not me) even sing very silly songs. I just like to listen to the joyful voices.

~~ Since those memories above are just over 70 words, and one year melds into the next, I figure I’ll flesh out today’s blog with some of the lesser holiday highlights that made the biggest impression on me.

~~ One of my earliest memories of Passover is having a terrible stomachache after eating at a relative’s house. My father reassured me that “everyone hurts after eating Passover food.”

~~ There was the holiday when the snow fell hard and fast, ruining an extended family seder. Was this a sad occasion? Not if you saw my mother dancing and high kicking with joy!

~~ My mother’s birthday sometimes occurred during Passover, and she recounted the sorrowful years of blowing out the candles stuck into bland sponge cake. As a teen, I thought I’d try something different to celebrate her Passover birthday. The problem was that I didn’t know how to bake, so I bought a Passover cake mix at the grocery store. It turned out disastrously — who knew that separating eggs isn’t optional, and neither is dusting the pan with flour?

~~ That baking fail actually turned out pretty well. I also had Readi-Whip and a bunch of strawberries to top what turned out to be a crumbly, crappy cake. So out went the cake, and into my mom’s parfait dishes went whipped cream and strawberries. Mom said she loved it because a) it wasn’t sponge cake, and b) there was no way to put candles in it, so no one could tell her age!

~~ I asked my dad why we didn’t keep kosher the rest of the year but observed the dietary rules for Passover. “Because,” he answered. That’s what I told my kids as well.

~~ Once at my in-laws, a (Jewish) guest brought a noodle pudding. Was it made with kosher-for-Passover noodles? “Oh, no, I don’t care about those things,” she responded. “Passover is passé.” Problem was that no one else at the table got the memo, and that noodle pudding taunted us throughout the meal.

~~ The best part of Passover for me is gathering with family. The second best part (a very close second) is eating at an Italian restaurant with family when Passover ends!


~~ If you’re celebrating Passover or Easter this weekend, I hope it is in the company of those you love, telling tales of those who’ve gone and creating new memories to last through generations.

Dasvidaniya.
LET’S GO RANGERS!
<1 more week
GO, NY KNICKS, GO!
<1.5 more weeks
LET’S GO METS!
Weeeee

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