Hipstercrite

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Scenes From A Jewish Christmas: Or What I Learned About My Family on This Trip Home

The Characters
Grandmother

Nickname: Nan, Nettie Mae, The Boss
Age: 83

Religious Affiliation: Passive Jew

Occupation: 40+ years in women's clothing retail

Relationship Status: Twice divorced, dating Special Friend whom she began dating after suing him for medical costs after her heel got stuck in a tile in the building he owns.
Children: One daughter and one granddaughter
Likes: dressing nicely, wearing heels to the gym, and preparing beautiful meals that you cannot touch
Dislikes: "people who pretend they are something that they are not."

Grandmother's Special Friend

Age: 82

Nickname: Jewish American Prince, Pain in the Ass, Asshole
Religion: Passive Jew

Occupation: 40+ years in women's clothing retail

Relationship Status: Once divorced, once widowed, dating Grandmother
Children: 3 sons, 2 stepsons, and 4 grandchildren
Likes: "people who pretend they are something that they are not and are good at it."
Dislikes: "...you know....things..."

Lauren
Age: 26
Nickname: As a child, she self-proclaimed her nickname to be "Spooky" due to her obsession with The X-files. Unfortunately, she was the only one that called herself that.
Religious Affiliation: Passive Jew (thanks to Grandmother)
Occupation: Perpetual assistant in the film industry
Relationship Status: Dating Special Gentleman Friend (different from Grandma's "Special Friend")
Likes: dancing to Michael Jackson in inappropriate situations.
Dislikes: people who don't pay attention to her dancing to Michael Jackson in inappropriate situations.

The Setting
Small, lonely town in Upstate NY.

Scenario 1-

Lauren decides to cook Grandma and Lionel Thai food because they have never tried it.

Grandma
Lionel, what we ate tonight was tufo. You've had tufo before.

Lauren

Grandma, it's tofu.

(Grandma laughs)

Lionel
Yeah, Nan, it's tofu!

(Grandma stops laughing)

Grandma
Shut the hell up, Lionel.

(Lionel's mouth drops open)

Lionel
Nan! How can you say that to me?

Grandma
Easy, stupid!

Fast forward to tomorrow morning.

Grandma
Lauren, that tufo has made me go to the bathroom five times now.

Scenario 2-
Lauren, Mom, Grandma, Grandma's Special Friend sit down for Christmas Eve dinner at The Community Restaurant.

Lionel
(to waitress)
Are you a man or woman?

Lauren
(to waitress)
Can you get me the tallest glass of vodka and cranberry please?

Scenario 3-
Lauren, Mom, Grandma, and Grandma's Special Friend sit down at a makeshift table planted in the middle of the living room for Christmas Dinner.

Grandma
Oh Lionel, you're always wishing you were dead.

Lionel
No I don't!

Grandma
Oh, yes you do. I always hear you saying, "Dear God, please take me now."

Lionel
That's because I'm trying to cut a deal with him.

Grandma
God doesn't cut deals.

Lionel
Yes, he does. He's Jewish

Grandma
(looks up)
Dear God, please forgive us.

To be continued....

Labels: Jewishnessssss, Lonelytown

Thursday, December 24, 2009

You Can't Take a Picture of This, It's Already Gone

"Home is where I want to be pick me up and turn me 'round"- Talking Heads

It's that time again.
That time of the year that you go home. To the place that you experienced your childhood. The place your Mom and Dad live. The place that has the only bed that has ever mattered.
The place that still holds onto the life that you left behind when you were told to grow up.

But each time you go home. It feels a little different. A little off.
You can't quite put your finger on it as you stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars you affixed to your ceiling seventeen years ago.

Why don't I feel like I'm home? This looks like my home. Those are the same stickers on the back of my door, whose exact trace has never left my fingers. Those are the same milky stains in the floorboards, whose existence came to be as Sammy aged and became incontinent. Those are the same windows that over look the highway, whose path took me away from here five years ago.

This trip you decide you're going to dig a little deeper. Tear away the boards you've nailed over the obvious picture.
You peek through and that is when you see it.

For the first time, it all becomes clear: The white frost that has glazed over your mother's once copper skin. The little brown dots traversing up the now rough terrain of your father's hands. The frothy slur in your Grandmother's voice. The recognition of bewilderment upon meeting the child born from someone you climbed trees with not that long ago. The decaying facade of your family's business, their heart and soul, still sitting vacant on the comparably disintegrating Main Street. You see for the very first time that all of this, everything that you thought was a constant, has changed.

Changed while you weren't even paying attention.

Desperation quickly floods in and you try to freeze everything, but you can't.
It's already gone.