According to a 10 year old me:
Grandma Ethel arrives. She doesn’t drive so she hitched a ride with my Dad’s parents who are still parking. Grandma Ethel has a mean streak and she’s judgy. She refers to one of my friends as “the fat one.” I give her a quick hug and stay away. I switch out my place card so my sister Debbie has to sit next to her. Grandpa Joe died when I was five. I ask my Mom if that’s when Grandma became mean but my Mom reassures me that she was always “malicious” and when I ask what that means she says, “Look it up.”
I glance out the window that faces the front of the house and notice Grandpa Herman directing my Grandma Fanny trying to park her Oldsmobile. My parents’ cars are in the garage and the driveway is wide enough for two school buses. Grandpa doesn’t drive either.
They enter arguing. Grandma Fanny is busy telling Grandpa what to do. And Grandpa always responds, “Wait awhile, wait awhile.” Me and my sisters mimic him and giggle.
Grandma’s Cousin Rose is invited. I’m happy to sit next to her. She has long dark circles under her eyes that droop like a Blood Hound and she loves her full-time job where she takes the bus to and from. She never married or had kids and she’s genuine and kind. Mom tells me Rose couldn’t make it to the Seder. I wonder if she needed a ride but didn’t want to ask Grandma Fanny to schlep out to Sherman Oaks.
Mom set the table with her Lenox china and silver ware. Each place setting has a Haggadah. (A booklet of prayers with the story of the Jewish Exodus out of Egypt.) The Haggadah’s are well used. The pages have food stains from past Seders: gefilte fish and horseradish fingerprints, a matzo crumb from 1972. The crumb is so big it can be used as a bookmark. The page with the 10 plagues always has wine or grape juice stains.
I’m starving. We’re not allowed to nosh before the Seder.
Dad “tucks in” the matzo into its own little bed. The cloth napkins are cozy blankets. It reminds me of how I like to be tucked in. Blanket folded tightly around me. At bed time, I remind my parents that I’m like the creamy filling of an Oreo. But matzo is different. Here’s how the complicated ritual works-- Dad takes the middle of the three matzahs that are stacked on the Seder plate and splits it into two parts. He returns the smaller half to its place between the other two matzahs, and places the larger half in a bag, or wraps it in a cloth, and then sets it aside. (Kinda like matzoh-Jenga.) The matzah that is set aside is called the afikomen, and it is eaten for “dessert” after the Seder meal in commemoration of the paschal sacrifice. (Thanks for the detailed ‘splainin’ Chabad.org. See 1 for a Deeper Meaning.)
My dad hides the afikomen and I always miss the deed. He’s sneaky. This hiding custom is based on a statement in the Talmud from 500CE: “We snatch matzahs on the night of Passover in order that the children should not fall asleep.” Even back then the kids were bored and starving (for real) and needed a game to look forward to. By the time I was 8 I gave up on searching for the afikomen since Debbie always found it and won the silver dollar. (She’s a stock trader today.)
Dad starts the Seder, reading from the Haggadah and tells the story about when the Jews were slaves in Egypt.
I’m staaaaarving.
Our Golden Retriever, Taj, is asleep at my dad’s feet. She already had her dinner, why can’t I?
It’s not until I’m an adult when I think, Dang, those Jews were starving in the desert for 40 years; I can hold off an extra fifteen minutes.
I look at my older sisters, Vicki and Debbie, for hungry signals. Vicki sits hunched over and Debbie is fidgety. My mom interrupts the seder and tells Vicki to “SUS,” code for Sit Up Straight. Dad stops mid prayer and snaps, “Can I get back to the Seder?” Mom avoids an argument by waving her hand. That was just the beginning. In four years, the snap and hand wave will escalate and my parents will divorce. But for now, I’m 10. I’m so hungry I could eat four Gefilte fish.
We go around the table and take turns reading. I count the paragraphs and people ahead of me at the table and am always relieved that my paragraph has just one or two sentences. While I practice it in my mind, I miss my que. The silence jolts me. Oops. I read my two lines. Success.
My mom is dramatic when it’s her turn. Maybe that’s where I get my acting chops from.
…“This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate in the land of Egypt. Whoever is hungry, let him come and eat! Whoever is in need, let him come and conduct the Seder of Passover! This year we are here; next year in the land of Israel. This year we are slaves; next year we will be free people!”
My mom projects and enunciates every word as though she’s on a Broadway stage. I can feel the affliction with every syllable. Debbie and I look at each other and try not to giggle at our mom’s performance.
Grandma Fanny forgot her glasses so we skip over her. As Grandpa Herman reads, I wonder if he was ever young. He looks like he was born a grandpa.
As the leader of the seder, Dad reads fast. Is it because he’s famished too and wants to get through the Haggadah? Whatever the reason I’m inspired. I decide that I want to learn how to read out loud really fast too.
I’m staaaarrrvvving. I’m eyeing the Seder plate which holds different foods that symbolize every aspect of Passover: Shank bone—blood of the sheep that was painted on the Israelites doorways so their first born wouldn’t be smoted, smited, smothered, whatever; the Bitter Herbs represent the bitterness of slavery; Choroset (sweet mix of chopped apples, nuts and honey) symbolizes the mortar Jewish slaves used to build all those pyramids; Parsley reminds us that it’s spring and is dipped in salt water to represent the tears of the Israelites. Finally, I’m drooling. There’s a hardboiled egg, which symbolizes rebirth, but to me it should be eaten, as in now.
The Four Questions. Every year I get to read the four questions because I’m the youngest. It’s a tradition in the hopes that the story of the Exodus will be passed on to the next generation. I’m excited and nervous about the spotlight. Mostly excited though. My sisters are older so they’re allowed special treats. Vicki gets to stay up later, Debbie gets to drink soda with dinner, finally, once a year I have my own privilege. I get to read the four questions all by myself. I know them by heart, spew them out in a sing song tone then everyone sings the questions together in Hebrew.2
Hillel Sandwich. This is a Jewish delicacy that for some reason isn’t enjoyed at any other time of the year. Just Passover. I imagine it’s probably like eating a chocolate Easter egg in August. It’s just not the same. Horseradish and charoset made into a matzo sandwich. I just got my adenoids taken out so the horseradish is hard on my sinuses. Dad eats like six of these. Mom has to get another box of matzo from the pantry. Grandma Ethel made the yummy charoset and won’t give Grandma Fanny her recipe.
Finally, it’s mealtime. Dad is the designated Brisket slicer. Even though he uses an electric knife, he’s always the carver. Thanksgiving? He carves a mean turkey, perfect slices right down the bone. He’s a pathologist. He knows how to cut meat.
Grandma Ethel gives a fatty piece of brisket to Taj under the table. Mom tells her to stop giving the dog people food but grandma denies it even though Taj is happily chewing on something right next to where Grandma is sitting. Grandma Fanny just shakes her head and mumbles something in Yiddish.
Usually 4 cups of wine are drunk during the Seder but my parents aren’t drinkers. They would use the bottle of Manichewitz from last year if it kept. My grandparents don’t drink either. They’re suspicious of anyone who does.
A cup of wine is poured for Elijah. Jews believe this Elijah guy will show the messiah where to go if he gets lost. At least, that’s my 10-year-old perspective. Jews around the world open their front door so invisible Elijah won’t have a problem getting in. Huh? Taj likes to run away so we have to put her on her leash when we open the door for Elijah. Last year we forgot and Taj ran away. Instead of looking for her we continued the Seder, but we soon got a call from a neighbor saying, “Uh, your dog is in our pool.”
Next year in Jerusalem. We joyously shout this at the end of the Seder. All I know about Israel is that it’s in a bad neighborhood and my family never once talked about visiting. Yet it’s in our souls to yearn for this place. I’m 10. I yearn for dessert. We’re having NY Cheesecake and I’m eager for an extra-large slice.
Debbie finds the afikomen. I didn’t even know it was time to search. She got a silver dollar to add to her Passover collection.
Grandma Ethel scoops a bunch of food in baggies to take home with her. If she still has leftovers in a few weeks, she’ll pawn them off to her friends. She never wastes food. You can take the girl out of the Great Depression, but you can’t take the Great Depression out of the girl.
We say our Goodbyes to the grandparents. I’m already in my pajamas. I changed before dessert. I’m ready to be tucked into bed like an Oreo. Now I’m hungry for an Oreo but we’re not allowed to eat flour. Ugh.
Grandpa Herman is directing Grandma Fanny out of the driveway. She almost hits the lemon tree. “Wait awhile, wait awhile” Grandpa shouts.
Twenty minutes later, I’m brushing my teeth and hear the Oldsmobile banging over the curb. That means Grandma made it into the street.
Do you have a fun memory from a Passover Seder or any Dinner Party with family? Messy holiday family stories encouraged.
Was your Grandpa born a Grandpa?
Here’s the order of the Seder service from the Haggadah if you’re intrigued.
Here is a description of the 10 Plagues which is how the Jews escaped slavery in Egypt.
Here are scientific theories on how the Plagues may have actually occurred.
Deeper Meaning:
The afikomen represents our liberation from Egyptian exile. That redemption, however, was not a complete one, as we are still awaiting the final redemption with the coming of Moshiach. Setting aside or hiding the larger half of the matzah reminds us that the best, the real redemption, is yet to come, still hidden in the future.
The Four Questions: (Mah Nishtanah) From haggadot.com
Why is this night different from all other nights?
On all other nights we eat either bread or matzo. Why, on this night, do we eat only matzo?
On all other nights we eat herbs of any kind. Why, on this night, do we eat only bitter herbs?
On all other nights, we do not dip our herbs even once. Why, on this night, do we dip them twice?
On all other nights, we eat either sitting or leaning. Why, on this night, do we eat while leaning?
How did you film my childhood Seders?😀 It all read so eerily similar. Especially the parking and the coming into the house yelling. One difference is that my grandpa Al always sat at the far end where the TV could be visible and watch whatever sporting event was on the TV. He was allowed to drink scotch during the Seder too. Fun piece and so relatable!
Thanks for sharing that. It was a nice peek into family traditions. For some reason, I was picturing this gathering as a episode from "All in the Family." BWAHA! The grandpa directing the parking, the mumbling, the "wait awhile" yelling... it sounded like something Archie Bunker would do. LOL