not kosher (m)

Aunt Y lays in the bed, barely moving, staring straight ahead.  We can't tell what she is thinking or comprehending.  The case worker comes in and tells us it's time to move her to a rehab facility.  She looks as ready to do physical therapy as my body does for a bikini.  We are given a list of facilities from which to choose.  The hospital does not recommend any one in particular.  I am intrigued by the brochure for this new facility.  The photos are beautiful. 


My brother, sister-in-law, and Aunt X go with me to visit the new facility.  It's gorgeous.  Beautiful wood in the lobby and a waterfall.  Like an apartment building in Manhattan.  The representative for the facility greets us.  Her name is Ida and she explains that this facility is a whole new concept. People from all over the world have come to study this facility.   The patients are called "guests."  The building is modeled after a house where the guests reside.  The elevator opens up to a lobby where there are topiary plants framing a nice door with molding that looks like Jefferson's Mount Vernon. 


We walk into the living room and there's a fire in the fireplace and a large flat screen television with the news on.  Some of the "guests" are reading the newspaper, waiting for dinner.  There's a salon that looks like the one in Canyon Ranch.  They do hair, nails and massage.  We continue on to the "gym" where the physical therapy takes place.  The guest bedrooms are beautiful, like a room in a high-end Westin Hotel.  The bathrooms are granite topped sinks and marble floors.  No smell of urine or sick people. 


My brother Phil decides that we should live there when we get old.  Ida takes us on a tour of the kitchen.  It's beautiful.  Large, open kitchen with granite countertops.  A farmhouse table is set for 10 "guests."  They have cloth napkins.  This is too good to be true.


Aunt X asks what they are cooking for dinner.  It smells divine.  Ida says their food is first quality and everything is Kosher.  Well, didn't that stop everything.  Aunt X asks for clarification. 


Aunt X: "Do you mean we can't bring our own food in for my sister?"

Ida: Yes, that's correct, but our food is excellent.  We cater to every dietary requirement.

Aunt X: Thank you for all your help today.  We really appreciate it but we have to be able to bring in our own food.

Ida: I'm sorry.


And there you have it. The evidence that my family places food above all else.