Darker Side of Aging

December 21, 2018

Christmas season is upon us. Folks are partying, baking, shopping, sending cards, running around in ugly sweaters and singing carols.

But many people are fighting the darker side of holidays. Those longer, colder nights take a toll on us. Some people retreat. Others get moody, even feel antisocial.

I enjoyed a special Christmas brunch at the senior center today. Doors were to open at 9:45 and by 9:00 AM over 100 seniors sat in chairs queued up for opening day! Yes, there is something about (free) food, music, goodie bags, games, photos with Santa and uniformed officers serving meals that bring in a crowd!

For the most part, the atmosphere was loud with happy banter. It’s easy to spend time with the happy-go-lucky types. It’s the mumblers and grumblers that always interest me.

Me: (to the women walking in front of me) Look at the amazing historical photos of Costa Mesa!

Judy: (feet shuffling and a bit hunched over) I’m 88 years old, alone and I don’t need to be reminded what this overgrown town looked like. I lived it.

Me: (to the woman seated at my table wearing a star of David) Isn’t this a festive day? And the portions of food are quite generous.

Marsha: (daughter seated next to mother) Mah, you can’t eat that stuff! The pork sausage and bacon and the potatoes and bread. It’s not kosher, it’ll kill you.

Deborah: (mother) So, I’m old, crippled and in pain. Let it!

Sandy: (a woman just four years my senior, thinning red hair) Such a sweet lady you are. Why do you come here to be around such crabby people?

Me: Just to meet nice ladies like you.

As tears welled up in her eyes, I remembered this quote by Albert Einstein, “No problem can ever be solved by the same kind of thinking that created it.” That is why we do what we can when we can however we are able.

So what is Jewish food?

December 11, 2018

A simple question, right? I get asked that question each time we host people for a Jewish holiday. Whether it is food that is served for a Seder, Sukkot or Hanukkah – people want to know. For years I would deflect that question on to Dennis. After 20 plus years now of hearing stories at these special times of the year, I have been able to demonstrate some knowledge of the reasons for the seasons.

Because we have just concluded Hanukkah and over the course of eight days I have served more than two dozen jelly donuts (sufganiyot), fried more than 100 latkes (potato, cheese or vegetable pancakes) and made roughly 10 pounds of applesauce, most people want to know why is applesauce a “Jewish” food.

The simple answer is that applesauce goes well with latkes and is a good alternative to sour cream if you are keeping kosher or serving a brisket. But the best answer I can provide is that apples are a significant fruit in Jewish culture. (Remember we dip them into honey during Rosh Hashanah to symbolize a sweet new year). However, apples are the fruit represented in the Garden of Eden making them an important religious symbol.

Other words you need to know: Challah, kosher, kugel, tzimmes, brisket, rugelach, gelt; words for another time.

Thanks for the memories, or not!

December 10, 2018

My paternal grandparents came to the U.S. from Poland. Neither of them ever spoke English. Their nine children spoke to them in Polish. I could understand Polish and became fluent in Russian (which was taught in high school)  so I could communicate with them.  With the lack of traditions or history on one side of the family, the other side made up for it. Pierogi, kapusta, bialys, krupnik, grochowka, knedl. Weekly trips to the Polish butcher, music and black and white TV.  And, of course,  we attended mass either in Polish or (the language of the church) Latin.

My mother and her three siblings were orphaned.  There was little more shared by any of them than that. But culture would be adopted into the family as one of my mother’s sisters married a Mexican rancher. We spent time in Mexico and I was able to master Spanish by age seven that to live-in ladies earning wages for the families that were left behind. My best memories are the smell of lard wafting through the house and making tortillas from scratch.