Michael E. Gruen

Some stories wonderfully capture family tradition. This one frames mine nicely.

Last night, my family sat for passover seder. If done “correctly”, seders can last hours. Ours takes ten minutes– tops. We’re big on shortcuts. 

My grandfather distributes the Concise Family Seder, a tome used by nearly all secular jews. “Page 1.” He speaks to no one in particular. He motions to my aunt, “Janey, care to start?”

“Sure. Mine’s got annotations.”

“Oh,” I say, “that’s my copy. I crossed out all the boring stuff and condensed everything when I ran seder five years ago.” 

Beat. Part pinball machine, part middle-school volleyball player, my uncle lurches for the annotated copy and flings it over to me. No one is surprised. Looks like I’m in charge.

“Page one” I begin, ” is crossed out… as are pages two and three. Alright, Janey, bottom of page four, where it reads, ‘A participant continues’. You’re a participant. Continue.”

We read some, skip most, dip eggs in salt water, and charge through the ceremony. Though we unabashedly compress most of the seder, we pause for my grandmother’s speech. Probably the most important part of our seder, she reflects (at great length) on how wonderful it is that we’re together, the tragedy of the Holocaust, how the message of Passover reflects on modern times, and so forth.

As she often does, Grandma brings a prop. She motions to a brass cup, placed on the center of the seder table and filled with wine, found at a flea market in Germany.

“This cup of Elijah was an heirloom of a German Family. It’s engraved, dated [somewhere around 1930]. … It was cared for over all these years, and now we use it as our cup of Elijah.”

Janey examines the cup and whispers something in my uncle’s ear. My grandmother continues, “Why are you talking over me? Anyway, Daddy [my grandfather] insisted we have this seder. … He believes it’s an important tradition that we should carry on. … like that German family showed, seders are important. …” and so forth. After five minutes of this, she stops.

“Mom,” Janey says, “that cup is a first-place trophy for a ski competition.”

She was nearly right. The cup reads:

1. PRIES
SCHLITTLI RENNEN
ENGELBERG. JAN. [12th 1930]

Which roughly translates as:

1st Place
Toboggan Run
Engelberg. January [12th 1930]*

We’re big on shortcuts. The truth shouldn’t get in the way of a good story or powerful teaching.

Perhaps this is the true meaning of passover. 

More: Engelberg – Translation: “Angel Mountain”

–

*I forget the actual date. To boot, chances are good it belonged to a Nazi.

I move next month. No roommates. No compromises. What ridiculousness will come?

Since college, I’ve lived with one of my best friends from high school. It’s been fun, but he needs to move in with his girlfriend and I need my own place. Shared living space means compromises and concessions; and now, for the first time ever, I have complete freedom.

I’m excited and have begun thinking about the implications.

1. More Nudity
   With the prospects of the roommate (or his girlfriend) arriving at any time, I found it good practice to wear pants at all times. No longer an issue, I’ll likely forgo pants around my apartment. 
    
2. Less Laundry 
   More nudity also means I’ll be doing less laundry as I’ll be wearing fewer clothes. Seems logical.
    
3. More Gym Time
   More nudity also means I’ll notice how out of shape I’ve become. I’ll likely go to the gym more, or spend more time on my two-cycle.
    
4. More Laundry
   Frequent gym time doubles my load, so I guess I will have more laundry after all.
    
5. No Cable TV
   My current roommate compulsively watches TV. (He gets antsy without the Trinitron’s warm glow.) I tend to watch shows without commercials on DVD, and entire series in one sitting. I suspect I’ll skip the Cable, Blockbuster and Netflix accounts and just buy an AppleTV. 
    
6. No Stuffed Animals In The Living Room
   The only fight my roommate ever won was the stuffed animal debacle. Right now, a Mr. Snuffleupagus and a Tux penguin (holding a hand-written “NO LOAFING” sign) [dis]grace the living room. While every girl who’s ever visited the living room thought they were adorable, I still can’t stand them. At least I relegated the stuffed amoebas to the roommate’s bedroom. (Yes, he owns stuffed amoebas.)
    
7. Cups Will Be Stacked Rim-Up
   When you live with someone, little lifestyle differences begin to crop up. I stack cups rim up; my roommate does rim down. I won that battle, but he still puts the silverware the wrong way in the dishwasher. (Two years and it still bothers me.)
    
8. Better Music
   My roommate discovers music through Volkswagen and Apple ads. ‘Nuff said.
    
9. More Home Cooking
   My roommate and I love ordering from SeamlessWeb. It’s our favorite thing. But, with a supermarket next door, I now have no excuse.

It’s like my own magical DisneyWorld. I’m too excited to sleep.