Hug A Jew Day

A middle school story

My twins were two of maybe four Jewish kids in their public middle school. The other two girls were what Cher would have called “Half Breeds.” The dads were Jewish but not the moms. According to Jewish law those kids wouldn’t be considered Jewish because it’s the mother that determines her kids’ religion. I used to think that was a stupid canon— a little too feminist really— a law that relegates the man to just a sperm? But. I understood the reason once I became a Jewish mother. Even if both parents work or the father is a stay-at-home dad the mother has the final say in raising those kids— especially if she’s Jewish. 

Jeffrey and I used to joke about being the only Jewish family in our suburb in Massachusetts. I told people if anyone asked, “Where’s the Jewish community,” a townie would point to our front door.

I was so thankful for my kids’ friends. They were kind, smart, supportive… except for one—Leann— who no one trusted but was somehow accepted into the fold. (Isn’t there a boob in every group of life?)

It was a Friday afternoon when my kids came home and announced Monday would be Hug A Jew Day.

“Really?” I said matching my daughter’s excitement but my mind erupted with questions. Is this a mockery? Antisemitism? What will they do to my kids? Who thought of this? Was it a good kid or spawn-Leann?

My kids were in 6th grade. Their innocence was still intact. They didn’t know about antisemitism and I hadn’t told them yet about the Holocaust.

I remembered when I was in 9th grade Robin McGuire called me the K word. I had to ask my buddy Julie what that meant. She explained but I then she needed to give me the definition of derogatory. I had NO IDEA people hated Jews for no reason. I knew about the holocaust but that was a whopping 35 years ago. (I grew up in the 70s). And Robin didn’t know anything about me except that I was terrible at sports. She was on my softball team. Her stepmom had picked us up from a game in her green Mercedes sedan. There were four of us girls squeezing into the back seat, and I asked to put my back brace in the trunk. (Yes, I had scoliosis and wore a back brace except while participating (badly) in sports.) Robin was getting into the car on the other side when she made the quip. I felt my teammates tension more than the hate in Robin’s under-her-breath blow. I was squished against the car door, befuddled, confused. What did I ever do to Robin? We never had an after school hang out. I didn’t know her very well and couldn’t think of a derogatory name for her. Preppie bitch? She probably would have said, “Thank you.” Where did she learn this hatred? Her parents? Her mom was a famous, Academy Award winning screenwriter. How could a writer, an artist, hate an entire group of people without knowing them? I didn’t think about those questions when I was 14. I probably figured Robin wasn’t a fan of my humor. All the other girls thought I was funny. 

Friday Afternoon - Samantha’s Room - Her Closet - Day

“What should I wear on Monday?” Said my little fashionista.

“You might want a soft loose top so you can easily hug back. Something freshly laundered so it smells good.”

“And I’ll wash my hair Sunday night.”

In between pulling out clothes from her wardrobe and saying— “What about your knock off Juicy sweatpants—” I casually asked questions. I needed more information about this newly minted school holiday. 

“So… Who thought of Hug A Jew Day?” I asked with a frozen smile on my face. 

“Maggie. She’s one of eight of my best friends,” said Samantha. If Samantha could have had 190 best friends, she would have. She made friends wherever she went. She was a friendmaker. One time when she was in High School we were driving through a different town and their school had just let out. She sat upright watching the hundreds of kids swarm the sidewalks and said, “I can’t believe I don’t know them.”

“Maggie,” I said relieved. “She’s a sweetie.”

Because it was Maggie and not Leann, I knew this was going to be a loving, positive holiday. Every mom would have loved to have had her daughter bring home a Maggie. I remember her perfectly. She had a cherubic face, straight hair like uncooked spaghetti and whenever she saw Samantha she’d say, “There’s the bowl of sunshine.”

“I’ll wear the sweatshirt you got me from Limited Too,” Samantha said. 

Dylan didn’t care what he would wear on Monday. In fact, he already forgot about this special event— his face planted in a Costco sized box of Goldfish. 

Monday – Kitchen – Morning

We were running late— again— so the kids had a Pop Tart for breakfast. Pop Tarts was the in-house fast-food breakfast. Besides, I remember loving Pop Tarts when I was their age, even as a weekend treat. 

Dylan and Samantha missed the bus, so I drove them. I’d never seen Samantha so excited for school. She was practically panting like Simon, our dog who came along for the ride.

As I pulled up to the front, Maggie recognized our car and her face lit up like an electric menorah. She called out to the other kids and a gaggle of 6^th graders, rushed our car. It was as though my kids were rock stars. I searched the crowd for Leann and was relieved she wasn’t there. As soon as my kids opened their car doors, they were surrounded by excited fans— bumping backpacks and group hugs with Maggie leading the chant, “It’s Hug A Jew Daaaay!”

Girls were practically singing the phrase and the boys were just trying to plow through their cracking, changing voice like Peter Brady. “Hug a Jew Day!”

I was excited for Dylan and Samantha yet part of me still worried. After the disbelief of Robin McGuire and a few other incidents in my life I learned to trust-- but with my eyes wide open. 

Monday After School – Kitchen – Day

Dylan and Samantha rushed through the front door. Dylan had forgotten that I knew what day it was. 
“Mom. It was Hug A Jew Day.”
“Yeah. How was it?”
“Really fun.” Samantha was beaming. 
“It was all day long,” said Dylan. “In the hallway between classes, during lunch—"
“Mr. Baker had to tell everyone to stop hugging because it was disrupting class.”
“Olivia and Bethany’s dads are Jewish,” said Dylan, “So they got hugs too.”
“That’s awesome,” I said. I was truly warmed.

I wish I wrote down the date when this happened but as a Jewish mom, I will never forget the love from their friends.

I realized why this story came up for me this week – if ever there was a time I can remember that I and other Jews could use a hug – now is that time. 

Photo by Мария Волк on Unsplash

1.     Would you enjoy Hug A Jew Day as a national holiday?

2.     Any fun, unusual stories from your middle school days? Share!