In the little shetl I grew up in on the south shore of Long Island, diversity  meant there were Jewish families from Flatbush, Jewish families from Midwood, Jewish families from Brighton Beach and for a touch of exotica, a sprinkling of Jewish families from the Bronx (which most Brooklyn Jews considered ‘upstate’).  Needless to say Christmas wasn’t a major event in our neighborhood. There were a few Italian families who timidly displayed modest Christmas lights – and we’d admire them on the way to someone’s home to open Hanukkah presents and chomp down latkas drowned in apple sauce.

A Tree for All of Us

I didn’t grow up with Christmas envy – in fact I’ve always liked the season: the lights, the music, good egg nog. We would visit the tree at Rockefeller Center. As a tyke I thought that was put there especially for the Jewish people; after all if you had a tree in your living room why would you schlep in to see one in the freezing cold?  In a way we did celebrate.  Jack was active in politics and there was a strong lefty alliance between the Jews and the Irish.  We were invited each Christmas to the home of Frank and Sally  Kelly. They were an older couple in their sixties with no children.  Frank may have been a protege of Al Smith.  Their home was decorated with a tree, little Christmas villages on table tops and of course presents for visiting Jewish youngsters.

Christmas in the City

Moving to Manhattan as a student I came to truly enjoy the Christmas season in the city. One of my fondest memories is walking down Fifth Avenue late on bitterly cold night a few days prior to the lighting of the tree at Rockefeller Center.  As I got to 50^th Street I looked over and all of sudden the lights on the tree turned on and it was ablaze in color.  For the next ten minutes I watched as they tested the lights in preparation for the official tree lighting the next day.  Possible evidence that the tree really was meant for Jews like me!

Christmas on the Prairie

The ritual of Christmas took a new turn when I met Diane and we went to Omaha each year.  Christmas Eve was always with the extended family – scores of aunts, uncles and cousins.  There is a lot of food and of course Santa for the little kids. Christmas Day is just the immediate family – which grew with the addition of spouses and grandchildren. My in-laws know how to do Christmas.

Back in New York

These days I stay back in New York for the holidays.  I take my Mom and her aide out for lunch.  Charlotte at 93 is frail and smaller in stature than she used to be – I call her the Incredible Shrinking Jewish Mother.  Her memory is limited though her appetite is remarkably robust and she demolishes the six course diner special.  Then I will visit my brother. Marc is 65 and is no longer ambulatory and doesn’t know who I am – just some guy that shows up once a while. It’s important to see him – and to thank the staff that take care of him and the others in their residence. They are truly doing God’s work and my family is deeply thankful to them.

This Evening

Tonight, Christmas Eve, my friend Will and his friend Natasha will come down from Rockland County. In what is becoming a tradition we will go to my cousin Aly and Jim’s home on the West Side for a lavish Christmas Eve party. Aly and Jim, like Diane and me, are an Irish-Jewish blended family. There’s more in common with that mixture than some may think.  James Joyce noted that both groups revere a religion they may not practice, a language they may not understand, and a literary tradition that goes back to the beginning.

After the party, Will, Natasha and I will go to a service.  This year we will attend St. John the Divine. St. John is New York City’s largest cathedral – and a center of liberal thought and diversity. Will may not be traditionally religious, but he is one of the most spiritual men I know. And, even with my minimal belief system I will feel comfortable there too.

Bagels

Christmas morning I will go out to Jumbo Bagel on Second Avenue and buy bagels, lox, cream cheese, maybe some whitefish salad and we’ll enjoy a little brunch before they go back upstate and I visit my mother and brother.  The tradition of the Christmas morning bagel goes back to my childhood – not much is open on Christmas Day (Chinese restaurants being the standout exception – but that’s for dinner).

Here’s my theory about the Christmas morning bagel:  We all know about the Magi. Gaspar, Balthasar, and Melchior were wise men but their gifts of gold, frankincense, myrrh were a bit impractical for a newborn. We do know that the Magi had a little boy tagging along with them.  History claims he had a drum, but in reality he had a bag of bagels.  The word for bread in Amharic is dabo and the word for drum is kebro.  Over the many centuries the words were mistranslated.  Despite the classic tale and the overplayed song, the little boy did not carry a drum; he was carrying a bag of bagels (whether they were plain, poppy or salt has been lost to history).  This makes so much more sense as the last thing Mary would have wanted was a kid pounding on a drum and waking up the baby – she was a Jewish mother after all.  And of course it was a long and difficult night. Everyone was hungry and wanted a little nosh.

And that is why Jews, Christians, Muslims, Hindus and everyone else enjoy a good crusty bagel on the holiday.

Merry Christmas to all.