Tonight we go to
Jill’s, Abby’s sister. A few other
things have changed from Alexander’s first Passover 19 years ago. First, my parents are unable to come. My mom wants to, but my dad cannot travel
that far. It’s been a few years since my
mother has even been to New York; I miss her visits as much as she does. Jason is celebrating the first night of
Passover at his girlfriend’s parent’s house.
Without him, we lose our resident rabbi.
He’s the best Hebrew-reader in our family. Alexander tells me he is going to a Seder
with friends at Cornell. He never
mastered the four questions, despite many many years of Hebrew School and a Bar
Mitzvah. And Michael lives in California
and can’t make it.
Before arriving, I
decide I’ll eat no appetizers. That
concept evaporates as soon as I see Jill’s spread of chopped liver, creamed
herring, cut-up vegetables and dip. I
should know better than to make these hollow promises with myself.
Following appetizers, we all sit down to a beautifully set table with haggadah’s at each seat. Adam begins the religious part of the meal
with, “Everyone, please pass your haggadah’s to the left and I will collect
them.” Despite some eye-rolling from the
elders at the table, no one resists. But
really, Passover for us is about family and getting together.
The food is
excellent, and I partake as if I’ve never heard of points and scales and weight
watchers. I start with a big bowl of matzo
ball soup and end with fruit and two slices of 7-layer cake. In between I have
one slice of rare filet, green beans, a tiny bit of spinach soufflé, and applesauce. The fast-moving conversation covers many
topics. But it’s Adam who keeps us
entertained. He is a master storyteller,
and his ability to inhabit the persona of the characters he is describing (both
real and imagined) is hilarious. If
laughing could count as activity points, we’d all have earned enough to cancel
out the meal we just ate.
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