From Generation to Generation

At this year's break fast, an interesting conversation was had about things we take forward, dor l'dor,  from generation to generation: the things we pass on. 

The next morning, I got a text from the Junior Son, asking if I still have the meat slicer. I do. The thing is older than me, still in excellent condition, amazingly enough, and just needs to have the wheel sharpened. and the crank oiled just a tad. The last one to do slicer maintenance was Ziggy....so it's been a while.

Admittedly, the thing is a pain in the ass to set up, but worth it. You set it on newspaper to catch the drippings, then attach 2 c-clamps to the counter to hold it in place. Ziggy even notched the spots where the clamps would easily attach because otherwise you spent more time trying to figure the best location and angle than slicing. Even with the c-clamps, you still had to hang on. I remember being pressed into service to hold the slicer steady. That job came with lots of warnings about where fingers did and did not belong. 

I remember the slicer in use when we lived in Bayside. I'm not sure if Mom bought it, or if it came from Grandma Bessie. Since she was originally the wife of a butcher, her having one is not out of the question. It was just always there. In North Bellmore, it was kept in the cabinet under the oven which, for reasons I never understood, had a little built-in desk right there making it virtually impossible to get anything outta the cabinet underneath without crawling on the floor. 

When the slicer finally made its way to Minnesota Ziggy used it all the time for salami...dried, hard and regular...and whenever I made turkey breast. Something good always came off the slicer. I suspect that's why the kids want to appropriate it; there's dried salami involved. 

But it's not just about the slicer. At the Yom Kippur break fast, we were talking about the weeks to come, and what will follow this election. Would we be safe? Would there be a civil war here? Would the Jews be held responsible for Feckless Loser's loss as he insisted? I got to thinking about what I would take with me if we have to go elsewhere. My house is full of pieces of my history, pieces I would want to pass on to Little Miss and Young Sir. 

There's the rolling pin my Great-grandmother and doppelgänger Nechama brought with her from the shtetl near Minsk. We know it's milchig (dairy) because there's a notch on the end. My Aunt Yetta's shabbat candlesticks were passed to me by Aunt Rose (her sister) and Grandma Sarah (her sister-in-law) at her specific request, held by Grandma until I had a home of my own. And later, Grandma Sarah and Grandpa Moishe's 50th wedding anniversary Kiddush cup found its way to our table...along with other family cups.

Not to be neglected was Grandma Bessie's favorite deco vase, a silver teapot Ziggy's grandmother brought from Wales, and a Belleek cake plate from my very elegant Aunty Florrie's house. There's a bone china pickle dish from Mrs. Junior Son's Grandma Mildred's house, but we made it pesadik (kosher for Passover) so it's packed away with the Passover dishes, or it would be pictured here. 

Each of these things, along with the others that I do not show, has a story. I have a whole breakfront full of stories. Just as I learned the little histories from my mother, grandmothers, and assorted aunts, I hope my grandkiddos will take those stories forward. Already they love Grandma Bessie (aka Grandma Don't) stories. It's a beginning. 

I think about how my grandparents left Europe to escape pogroms and persecution. I hear the rhetoric coming from the far right and the far left, and I find myself hoping I will be proactive enough to remove my family from danger. Will there be time to pack and ship, or will it be like my grandparents with a single suitcase and not much else. What are the absolute musts that must go with us? The candlesticks and Kiddush cups? ✅ The teapot? ✅ The rolling pin? ✅ The vase and the plate?❓Breakable. May have to be left behind. Someplace safe, where we may be able to arrange for shipping when we land. As for the slicer...if I can make it happen it will come with us.

I know this may sound silly to some of you, gentle readers, but better to think some of this stuff through than to be caught off guard and without some kind of plan. And yes, it's all just stuff, but it's the stuff that tells our stories. Stuff we can hold in our hands just like our grandmothers and grandfathers did. Knowing generations before us have cherished these things enough so that they come down to us. At the same time, we fully understand we are not the first generation of Jews to face down hate, nor will we be the last. 

As for me in Tel Aviv next week? There are a whole bunch of moving parts that have to stop moving before I can go. If I don't go next week, I'll just rebook for something later, but go I will. I have to. Someone has to scout new neighborhoods. 

Look, we have survived as a singular, identifiable people for over 4,000 years. We are nothing if not tenacious. We have faced adversity and we remain Jews. We are stubborn, stiff-necked, and determined to stay that way. We don't seek converts or followers. We just want to be left alone to be Jews. We're not here to change how you believe or what you believe or how you believe. That's none of our business and we'd like the same respect from everyone else. Leave us the hell alone where you find us, especially when it comes to our homeland.

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

Happy Indigenous Peoples' Day!

From we who are

THE INDIGENOUS PEOPLE OF THE LAND OF ISRAEL.