Secrets of a Jewish Mother: Real Advice, Real Family, Real Love (28 page)

You are a bride today and a
mother—in—law tomorrow. Be kind.
What goes around, comes around
.

 

 

 

 

O
ur Jewish mother philosophy on family is pretty simple. Even though your family may drive you insane at times, you should stay as emotionally close to them as possible. We even recommend living nearby (maybe not next door, but nearby), but we know that is not always an option. Why do we feel this way? Because of all the people in the world, your family is the group most likely to support you when you need them. We always say, “You only dump on the ones you love.” Who, except your family, knows the real you? More important, after knowing you, who still loves you? Usually, that’s your family.

Our particular family resembles a Neil Simon/Woody Allen dynamic, complete with dramatic gestures, eccentric personalities and loud voices. Of course we fight, a lot. We also try to make up, quickly. Mommy thinks grudges fester like untreated wounds and the infection gets deeper until you end up having to cut off a limb, or sever the relationship. She taught us that it is better to air the grievance, clean out the wound, make or accept the apology and move on. With a kiss. Always with a kiss.

Even though you cannot choose your family the way you can your friends, you can choose the battles you pick with them. You can even choose to embrace your family, despite their faults. You do not have to continue the feuds and the intergenerational grudges that you might have inherited. We have reconnected with long-estranged cousins years after everyone has forgotten why our families were fighting in the first place. But it’s a shame about those lost years. We were deprived of the shared histories that bind families, like our uncle’s incredibly loud snore, which began right after dessert, or the particular cackle emitted by our great-aunt. Take a survey of your family tree. Is there anyone there you miss? Someone you never got to know? It’s not too late. Why not invite someone to a holiday dinner? Holiday dinners are great places to begin making memories you can laugh over years from now.

Nonetheless, Jewish mothers are not Pollyannas. We realize there are situations in life where you need to give up, walk away and make your family from other people you love. Some people are not worth the aggravation, even if they are family. If you have given a family member so many chances that you are worn out, then sometimes you must say good-bye to preserve your own health and sanity. If the relationship is meant to rekindle, it will; if not, there is someone else in your life who loves and appreciates you. For us, our close friends are our family too. For many people, close friends are their only family. Treasure and nurture those relationships that mean the most to you.

The Jewish mother uses a
“mensch”
yardstick to evaluate behavior. Was he a
mensch
or not? Was that a
menschlich
thing to do, or not? A
mensch
is a person—traditionally a man, though we apply the yardstick to women as well—who acts like “a real person,” someone with integrity and a sense of morals. A
mensch
does not talk about doing the right thing; a
mensch
does the right thing. There are certain responsibilities in life that define whether or not you are a
mensch.
You can try to weasel out of these obligations, but a weasel you will be. We call these commitments “non-negotiables,” even though we negotiate our way through them every day. Though many of our non-negotiables stem from our Jewish heritage, they are based on universal ideas—what we may require for a Bar Mitzvah, you may require for a Baptism. The goal is always the same: Do the right thing, be there for your family and try not to hurt anyone else in the process.

Remember Spike Lee’s seminal film
Do the Right Thing?
Well, none of us saw the movie, but we know the motto. Spike must have borrowed it from Aunt Nessie or Aunt Cooky. Daddy always says it. Jill thinks she invented the line too. Everyone wants credit.

Doing the right thing begins with fulfilling your obligations to family and friends, starting with the holidays. We build our entire calendar around the Jewish holidays. Maybe you do the same with Christmas and Easter. For us, it’s Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in the fall (known as the High Holidays) and Passover in the spring. On the Jewish New Year, which begins in the fall with Rosh Hashanah, we take stock of the past year, make our apologies to people and God, set some new goals and hope the Book of Life will be sealed again for all our loved ones. On Passover we hold a Seder to commemorate the Jews’ exodus from slavery in Egypt, because pretty much every Jewish holiday has the same theme: “They tried to kill us. They failed. Let’s eat.”

All kidding aside, the Jewish holidays are a very serious and important time for us. Sometimes we wish our lives slowed down during the rest of the year the way they do during these holidays. Time stops for these occasions. Appearances are mandatory. Missing a holiday is acceptable only if you are gravely ill, God forbid, or if you have to go to your in-laws. On that note, your in-laws are always welcome at our homes, but we would be extremely upset if you chose to spend the Jewish holidays with your in-laws on a regular basis, instead of with us. On the other hand, if your in-laws choose to invite us too, then we can alternate to make everyone happy. We’ll even bring the wine.

For many years, Mommy “made” all the holidays for our family, every single one. Those were the days when we lived close enough to walk to and from temple, and most of our close relatives lived a five-minute drive away. Now Lisa makes the first day of Rosh Hashanah and Passover, and Aunt Cooky makes the second. We are definitely a “two-day” family; less observant Jews celebrate only one day of each of these High Holidays. Jill tries to host the “break fast” for Yom Kippur. All the food is kosher and cooked from scratch. Lisa’s chicken soup and Mommy’s pot roast are the traditional menu and the big draws. It doesn’t matter that we are now physically spread out, living in Connecticut, Florida, Manhattan, Dix Hills and Hewlett. It doesn’t matter that it can take three hours to get to the host’s house if the traffic is bad. We are summoned. We appear.

Our Jewish holidays are always shared with close friends, many of whom are not Jewish. We don’t happen to think someone’s religion is especially relevant when it comes to sharing our holidays. These are special times for our family and we want our close friends to be with us. Also, we always make room for another seat at the table if we discover someone has no place to go. For us, the holidays are about enjoying good food, intense political conversations and lots of love. With every year, these occasions become more important, not less. As we slow down, the years speed up.