Thanks to my mom, I grew up in the typical Jewish household. We were God’s chosen people. Passover dinners. Menorahs decorating the holiday season. Enjoying a game or two of spin the dreidel. A heaping helping of guilt over the boyfriends I secretly had in elementary school (Oy vey, Ma, don’t worry I didn’t grow up to be a tramp like the girls down the street who played with the Ken dolls). The only issue with this scenario-we’re not actually Jewish... for now.
My mother has always had an inexplicable love for the Sons of Israel. In fact, to humor her, I also frequently make reference to our “Jewish” heritage. When in doubt for a Christmas or birthday gift, simply find an obscure piece of yiddish literature. Works every time, I’m telling ya. As for where her infatuation began, I could not tell you. All I know is that for my entire life I have known more about Passover, matzo bread, Menorahs, Hanukkah, the Torah, the Holocaust, Corrie Ten Boom, Tradition (Tradition!), the rise and fall of Israel through the centuries, modern Jews running the world (you would be surprised, they really are everywhere), and general Jewish heritage and culture than your average Gentile.
It would be unfair to mention my mom’s Jewish ancestry (we have our fingers crossed that one day we will find out our ancestors come from at least one of the Twelve Tribes), without bringing up the many facets of my father’s... awkward.. life. Considering the man was born in 1949, his loves includes the ancient game of tiddly-winks and marbles. Let’s not get him started about his endless collection of tiny glass balls that are allegedly in high demand. I could honestly write for days about the odd habits my father has taken on, luckily for you, I won’t.
Moving on down the line, we reach my brother, Garret. Garret, like any male who grew up in the 1980s, loves Legos and graphic novels (Both of which, I am sure were invented by Jews. I am not sure so I will have to do some research). Loves comic books so much he wrote a 176 page thesis over graphic novels and how they are parallel to, well, something. Either way, it signifies a strong, unending love.
My own obsessions are quite the opposite of few and far between. I am an undeniably Type A personality. My closet is color coordinated. My underwear are ALWAYS perfectly folded and sorted. I make my bed every day. I can’t listen to music or the TV above a certain volume or it makes my ears hurt (I have sensitive ears, okay?). If I don’t follow my exact shower routine every night, I forget what I have and have not washed. I avoid eye contact with birds of any kind (especially Broncho Lake Geese, because I fully believe they are out to kill me). I check my Twitter every morning while I am eating my breakfast cereal. I can only take notes and write checks in blue ink. The one exception to my rigid lifestyle? I refuse to wear a matching pair of socks. Life, after all, is too short to get caught up in the worrying about all of the minute details.
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