A Hanukah Miracle that Seats 8
Happy Chanukah to all who are celebrating, and to friends who will soon be celebrating Christmas, may the season be bright and warm and meaningful to you as well. And, welcome to our fast-growing number of new subscribers! I continue to be so happy to have moved to Substack.
I have yet to have a single latke or sufganiyah, a Chanukah donut. There are two reasons for this, neither of which has anything to do with my self-control: First, I’ve been sick since the first night of Chanukah, making the idea of most food impossible. Second, even if I were at full adbominal strength, I just don’t like filled donuts. I like my donuts straight up, glazed, sugary, but only cakey, not gooey. I sure hope that before the holiday is over I will be able to nibble on a cinnamon glaze with a hot cup of strong coffee. I miss my morning joe.
In this newsletter I have two Chanukah themed stories for you. Choosing to Carry the Light of Judaism Forward is a new essay that appears in Jewish Action’s special online holiday edition, and “A Chanukah Miracle that Seats 8,” below, is an oldie but goodie, something I chose to share in keeping with my vow to keep things light around here. .
Before I step aside and let you read these stories in peace, it’s time for my moment of flagrant self-promotion, because as the sage Hillel once said, “If I don’t self-promote, who will promote for me?” Or something like that. So here goes: I now have adanced reader copies for Bylines and Blessings in digital download format, and very soon will be receiving some print copies as well. If you are a book reviewer, author, editor, or other “person of influence” who might like a look-see at this very timely memoir and consider offering an endorsement or review, please email me at jg@judygruen.com.
A Chanukah Miracle that Seats 8
On the first night of Chanukah, we followed family tradition and lit our menorahs in front of our living room window. Just recovered from a fever, I hadn’t yet shopped for gifts for the family. But even in my most febrile dreams I could never have imagined that within minutes I would hit the Chanukah gift mother lode.
A moment after all the candles were lit, our eldest son’s phone erupted with its screaming “song” accompanied by bad rock n’roll. He stepped outside to take the call. Meanwhile, a moment later, someone drove up in a brand new car, festooned with a giant red bow on top, parking right smack in front of the house.
“That car looks just like the one you almost bought last summer, except for the bow,” one of the kids noted. I hardly needed reminding that six months earlier, we were this close to signing on the dotted line to buy a new car to replace my old heap of battered steel and temperamental spark plugs. But unexpected household expenses foiled the plan. With its constant shake, rattle, and roll, I pined away silently for a new set of wheels.
Who had scored this new car, I wondered? I couldn’t think of any neighbor who needed one more than I did! No amount of hot Chanukah latkes—even with applesauce and sour cream—could salve my pain at having to stare at this two-and-a-half-ton present.
As my envy swelled to dangerous levels, my husband, Jeff, normally a reserved kind of guy, broke into song. “Happy Chanukah, to YOU!” he crooned to the tune of “Happy Trails.” This was beyond irritating. It was hardly the time to sing anything but a dirge. Then, the driver of the new car opened the door and my heart skipped an alarming number of beats. The driver was our son, which led even me (so slow on the uptake) to one electrifying conclusion: That car with the bow was mine! The phone call had been a ruse, I now realized. Jeff was still singing, but I was too stunned to respond. Chanukah gifts in our family are normally very modest, so I could be excused for not wrapping my head around the possibility that our son had just valet-parked the most amazing present I ever received in front of our big, arched living room window.
Meanwhile, our youngest son, who was studying first-aid in school, said, “I hope Mom’s not in anaphylactic shock. Her first trip in the new car may be to the ER.” Jeff pulled me up from the couch as I dumbly said, “You got me a car?,” laughing and crying at the same time. The whole family tumbled out to examine my new mom-mobile.
“Didn’t you hear me singing ‘Happy HONDA-KAH’, to YOU?” Jeff asked, as I slid behind the wheel and took the family for a spin, marveling at the vehicle’s dazzling features: brakes that worked. Working turn signals. Electronic everything. Seat warmers, for God’s sake. It also had excellent shock absorbers, which even seemed to help me understand my new, much improved transportation reality.
The giant bow helped me find my new car in the mall parking lot, where I went to finally buy the rest of the family their humble Chanukah gifts.
I drove around town all week in the first new car I’d had in thirteen years. I kept the bow on top, even when it rained and the bow got waterlogged and droopy. During Pilates class, I announced the news about my unbelievable husband’s unbelievable gift.
“Now I’ll need to be nice to him every day for the rest of my life,” I mused, wondering if I could pull off this kind of marital trick.
“No you don’t,” said Shawna, my instructor. “The way I see it, a new car buys him a month of nice. If you need to be nice for longer, he needs to buy more gifts.” That Shawna was tough. No wonder I was getting so much stronger under her demands.
“I don’t think he even gets a month,” opined a very pretty, very young, irritatingly toned woman who was already overdoing the Botox. “I think a week is enough. A man can never do enough for his woman.” Hoo boy, I thought. No wonder America’s men are becoming fed up with women. These girls had better rethink their expectations, but I wasn’t the one who was going to break it to them.
L.A. is a very status-hungry town, and driving my sleek new minivan gained me respect on the road. I saw no further smirks from other drivers, and in fact, more of them let me into their lanes when I signaled. The giant bow helped me find my new car in the mall parking lot, where I went to finally buy the rest of the family their humble Chanukah gifts.
Sure, Chanukah is really about dedicating ourselves to our Jewish identities and values, and I love the simple pleasure of sitting together after we light the candles, singing Chanukah songs, basking in the glow of those small flames that give forth so much light. But just this once, I sure didn’t mind getting one humongous, stupendous, materialistic Chanukah present from my man.
Happy Chanukah—may your celebration be filled with light!
Itty bitty book reviews
A brief word about three books I’ve recently finished. Scoop is Evelyn Waugh’s classic satire about the world of newspaper journalism. The main character is William Boot, a shallow, incurious young British man who writes little odes to nature for the “Beast” newspaper but is mistaken for a journalist with the same last name and is sent, cluelessly, to cover a mysterious war in “Ishmaelia.” A great send-up of the inky and fiercely competitive world of newspapers and foreign correspondents.
Jewish Stories Translated From 18 Languages edited by Nora Gold, founder and editor of JewishFiction.net, is a first of its kind, featuring stories and novel excerpts translated from Hebrew, Greek, Albanian, Portugese, Russian, Ladino, and more. I admit that I only enjoyed a few of the stories, not feeling emotionally connected to almost any of the characters. Still, it’s terrific to see the breadth of Jewish writing in so many languages, and serious fiction fans will want to have a look. Ironically, the story that opens the collection is “Hostages,” by Elie Weisel, translated from the French. The book was just published on October 17.
The Last Devil to Die by Richard Osman is also new, the fourth in the author’s Thursday Murder Series. I’ve loved each one of these books, with its quartet of British pensioners in a retirement community who also just happen to solve crimes, naturally staying a step or three ahead of the police. Funny, smart, and full of heart, if you like mysteries give these a try.