Dreidel Socks

December is a solid month-long reminder to any Jew of their overwhelming Yidness. As we walk down the tinsel-decorated streets and hear the Salvation Army guys ring their bells, we are aware. But perhaps nothing reminds us of our difference from the rest of the holiday consumer bunch than SHOPPING.

In my experience, there are three holiday shopping challenges faced by the New York Jew. You may be familiar with these.

Challenge #1: Soundtrack

We are made aware of the start of the holiday shopping season sometime in early November by a red-nosed thing named Rudolph, or more specifically, by whatever low-level manager is in charge of picking the music to be played at Macy’s throughout the month. You know what I’m talking about.

If you like Christmas jingles, fantastic for you. You will positively love the cheerful bells that will greet you every time you run out of milk or need a new pair of shoes. But if you don't like the music, or if (like me) you have no issue with most of 'em but possess a strange, quasi-demonic hatred for one...stupid...tune, you know this situation:

It doesn't bother you at first, but after your second or third trip to a place with a shopping cart, it starts to grate on you...

...which is fine, so long as you're not the type that shops very often...

Okay. Now you're doomed to hum the tune for the rest of the month, whether or not you actually ever hear it again. I'm pretty sure this rule applies to any catchy song you happen to dislike, or even one you have no problem with that popular radio stations have decided they like this week. But the thing with HOLIDAY songs, is that they come back every year. And if you're one of those who dislike the tunes, that first trip to the store in November symbolizes nothing short of decibel doom for you.

Challenge #2: Season's Greetings

You've shopped. You've paid, and the perky saleslady hands you your merchandise with a big toothy grin and a warm, pleasant:

Depending on your disposition, you have several options:

For the nice and/or indifferent people:

Option 1: "You too!"

Option 2: "Thank you!"

Option 3: Awkwardly toy with your Magen David/Tzitzit/Yarmulke and hope she notices. When she doesn't, see options 1 & 2.

For the annoyed/mean/irritable/really hate December people:

Option 1: "I don't celebrate Christmas, but you enjoy your holiday."

Option 2: "And a Happy Chanukah to you too!"

Option 3: "We don't have Christmas in my cult. But while we're on the subject, have you wondered lately, are you really happy?"

Obviously I don't recommend these latter ones. Be nice to your shopkeepers, customer service people, and waiters. Especially waiters. Those people control your food.

And my favorite of all the challenges:

Challenge #3: The Dreidel Socks

You are in a huge store, probably a department store, seeing row after row after aisle of red and green products, many of which sparkle, sing and dance, or both. Then suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you spot a tiny hint of blue:

It's an insignificant, cheaply made and/or overpriced product, probably a tin of cookies, a hand towel, or a pair of socks. But still, it's the only blue thing in the store! And so you are compelled to look closer...Socks. Dreidel socks. And then the unavoidable question arises:

Should I buy these dreidel socks?

Now, on the one hand, it is December. If ever you were going to buy Dreidel Socks, now would be the time for it. And hey, there's no way the cash register lady would mistake you for a Christmas celebrator with these babies!

But on the other, should you really buy into this holiday consumerism and spend precious bucks on something that inane and cheaply made/overpriced?

And anyway, do you NEED dreidel socks? Does anyone need dreidel socks? Would the purchase make you into one of those people who wear Santa sweaters?

But come on, if you don't buy it, who will? The socks won't stand a chance next to all these sparkly red things. And if the companies see that no one's willing to buy these socks, what's the chance of them stocking Menorah mittens next year???? Slim to none!

And the agonizing begins. What's my obligation? Do I have a Chiyuv to purchase a Chanukah product while in Galut?

It is indeed a challenge. They all are, and normally I am plagued by them.

But NOT THIS YEAR! This year, I am free from the agonizing, the catchy songs, and the split second, how do I respond to this pleasantry decision making! And all for one, glorious reason. This year:

I'M BROKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HAPPY CHANUKAH, EVERYBODY!

Biblical Advertising

You totally know this would have happened had there been ads in biblical times:

No disrespect meant to Tanach or King David. Some meant to Avshalom. Girls, if a guy spends THAT much time on his hair when he should be in battle (or at work), there's a serious problem.

If Movies Were Real: Home Alone

Credit must go to my Law & Ethics professor, who first suggested this scenario. Were movies real, you know this would happen.

We Made It!

Alright then. Here we be. Finally, a home on the interwebz for a number of wandering souls just trying to find their places.

I've wanted to start a "life blog," for lack of a better phrase, ever since I was still wasting away in the seemingly never ending pit of hell society calls high school. Instead of taking to a public forum, I started a locked LiveJournal that, mark my words, will never see the light of day. Years later, I now find myself typing up a welcome post to an as-yet unknown public blog.

The posts below me discuss with the idea that we as Jews do not need to explain ourselves for anything whatsoever, because we are who we are. This is all very well and good, but there are those of us out there who don't have it so easy in that department.

I come from a heavily multicultural family. The United Nations ain't got nothing on me. My extended family members, for the most part, are not Red Sea Pedestrians. Some hail from the Islands, Africa, Ireland and more. (My parents are not converts; my extended family has almost completely intermarried. It's very complicated and I will spare you the particulars of my family tree.) They celebrate Christmas with tinsel, eggnog and a succulent Yule ham. If I ever felt the need to rebel, all I would need to do is take a trip over to my cousins and try a bit of grilled lobster, lightly buttered.

This leads to an interesting situation. My immediate family are almost the only observant Jews in the entire extended clan, with the exception of two of my second cousins who are not the most favorably disposed people on earth. Because we don't eat McDonald's hamburgers or drive on Saturdays, we are sort of... hopeless freaks.

Some of the men in my family who have chosen to marry non-Jewish women joke in front of us about their bar mitzvah experiences as if to say, "Load of good that did me." Awkward. To them, our Jewishness is not alright. It is archaic, outdated and just plain ridiculous.

But for the most part, we all keep the peace. We know we're sometimes an inconvenience. Family get-togethers need to be rescheduled for Sundays instead of Saturdays and since we choose not to frequent certain eating establishments, kosher takeout can be a bit expensive.

Thus far, I am the only person I have ever heard of who has eaten a kosher chicken and side dishes from Brach's for Christmas dinner with their half-black cousins. I certainly hope the fabulous gifts we brought made up for the fact that they couldn't enjoy their traditional succulent pig on account of us.

I seem to have acquired a taste for the bizarre because of my family situation, or perhaps I always had a propensity for the unusual. I have never known anything different than a hodgepodge of people in my family.

Ultimately, I do indeed need to explain myself. And to my own family, at that. From the ignorant questions I receive from family members who think that because I don't shop on Saturdays, I will shave my head when I get hitched someday to the simple questions about which brand of ice cream I can eat, I need to explain myself. I need to explain my lifestyle to my own flesh and blood, some of whom choose not to abide by the laws of Judaism and some of whom were never commanded by G-d to abide by these laws in the first place.

I would not have my life any different. I've met people from every race and religion, and they are all my kin. I actually think I'm heading out into the world with a huge advantage over my fellow Modern Orthodox counterparts because of the variety of people with whom I've come into contact. Time will tell.

So to Daniel, I say, indeed, I need to explain myself. And to Aliza, I say, being Jewish is not only "not alright" in some parts of the world, but it is also "not alright" according to certain members of my own family.

And so we wander on.

I Don't Think We Need to Explain Ourselves

Because, well, why should we?

We are who we are, and our feet are sore. Our backs ache, our noses and ears are sunburned, there's bread growing on our shoulders (don't worry, it's not rising, at least not if you're Ashkenazi) and we think we may have made a mistake leaving the old neighborhood behind. What's a little whipping when you have a roof over your head and job security?

Fast-forward a few years and a walk across the sea and we've trudged through every stage of national existence at least a few times. Namely, wandering, nation-building (Take I), wandering, nation-building (Take II), wandering, wandering, wandering... and, as of last century, finally, nation building (Take III). (Persecution, being a constant, cancels out.)

So where are we now? Everywhere, carefully checking rocks for kosher marks before drinking anything from them (AFTER filtering for copepods) and impatiently waiting for the first minute of the third, fifth, or sixth hour so we can finally eat that Hershey's bar. And we're doing all this in abnormally dense urban accumulations where we build shuls two blocks from our houses so that we can walk the walk without actually having to do anything of the sort, and also because we don't like the rabbi at either of the shuls two blocks away in the other direction and God forbid we should be seen mingling with the Conservatives.

Somehow, maybe because of our wandering and maybe despite it, we've become so inwardly focused that we've stopped looking at what's around us. And who, for that matter. We just keep trudging ahead simply because it's what we've always done, with a little shuffle to the right or the left as the times dictate. Somehow the people who stop for a moment to check out the wilderness from whence we came, to breathe the air out there, to wander a little themselves, are the daring few, and far between.

Being Jewish is alright here, yes. Thank goodness. But it's worth reminding ourselves -- not others, but ourselves -- that being Jewish is alright out there, too. We of all people believe that this wide world was created for us to enjoy. So maybe we should make it a point to do that a little more often.