a bar mitzvah (lyn)

Jill’s son is being Bar Mitvahed today. And it is snowing, for the first time this winter.  I abandon my plans to wear little booties and a nice shearling coat in favor of snow boots (not as bad as Uggs) and a more practical winter coat with a hood. 

The service is beautiful.  It’s held in an intimate chapel, and the cantor and rabbi, both women, captivate the audience with their beautiful voices.  Jill’s son does a masterful job of reading his Haftorah, and then gives a personal interpretation of its meaning.  His speech is laced with humor, and we are all impressed with the presence this young man commands.  After the ceremony, we all head over to DUMBO (in Brooklyn) where the party is being held.

Jill has chosen a very cool, non-traditional place for the celebration. The music, the food, and the company are all great.  I don’t dance because everyone who is dancing is so good.  Jill’s son is a professional dancer and it shows.  He dances like I dance in my best dreams.  I eat too many of the little hamburger sliders and fries, and can’t resist the shot-glass milk shake.  Then there are the turkey meatballs in some kind of exotic sauce, and shrimp.  The only thing I say no to are the mini mac and cheeses.  And that’s all before the main course of salmon skewers, mashed potatoes, and vegetables.

There is entertainment, heartwarming speeches, more dancing and more food.  There is a montage of Jill’s son, showing him from birth until now.  It’s maybe ten minutes long, and that’s about how fast it feels in real time.

You take them home wrapped in their little blankets, and poof, they are being Bar Mitvahed, and the next minute they’re off to college.  Hold onto them while you can.