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I don't necessarily believe in G-d right now, I almost NEVER go to synagogue, and I forgot Passover this year. Just flat out forgot. Ate bread and everything.
I wouldn't usually feel so guilty except that Passover is my favorite of the Jewish holidays. For one, I have a reason to make my out-of-this-world, to-die-for, best-in-the-business Matzo Ball Soup. I would tell you my secret ingredient but then I would have to kill you.
But mostly, Passover is my favorite because of the fond memories that it brings with it.
For most of my childhood, my family traveled to Scranton, PA (yes, my mom was actually born there and yes, it does exist) for a family seder (meaning: the dinner/service) at The Woodlands. My grandfather, who was a fixture at his temple, would lead, in his deep baritone voice and beautifully recited hebrew. My grandfather was an especially special man, so this time of year makes me a bit sad that he isn't with us anymore.
Anyway, the whole family, including cousins and such that I almost never saw during the year, would fit around a table (or two) and enjoy a service and lovely meal together. I remember collecting uneaten portions of gefilte fish and forcing them upon our young cousin Aaron, who happily ate EVERYONE's gefilte fish. And really, for a 5 year old, that is a LOT of gefilte.
I remember how adept my grandfather was at hiding the afikomen (the desert matzo, hidden for the children to find) and watching the smirk on his face when we weren't even CLOSE to where he had hidden it.
But there were other Passovers that were just as memorable.
Like the year that my sister and I celebrated alone in my college apartment. We made the whole dinner, including brisket and potato kugel, only to begin crying shortly after starting the service. We had to pick who was father of the household and who was mother (for the purposes of the seder) and when we realized it was just the two of us, we couldn't handle it. So we did the ten plagues, ate all the food, and called it an evening.
Then, there was last year, where we actually spent Passover in Jerusalem.
Now, the irony isn't lost on me. The last line of any seder is "Next year in Jerusalem." Well now I've done it, so where do I go from here?
Having Passover in the holiest of world cities was a bit funny. For one, the Israelis REALLY know how to celebrate Passover. In the stores and such, the non-kosher items are either removed from the shelves, OR a large sheet is thrown over them.
Friends of ours went in to a grocery store and saw that the sheet had fallen a bit and they really wanted this type of cookie that was peeping out from the shelf. So, they grabbed them and headed for the register.
I kid you not, the minute that the checkout guy ran those cookies over the scanner, a big, ominous red Jewish Star flashed up on the register screen. The guy started screaming in Hebrew.
"Where did you get these?"
Our friend replied, "From the shelf."
The rant proceeded with a lot of "How dare you, now you've contaminated this register for the rest of us. Oh my gosh, I touched chametz [non-kosher-for-Passover food]. Blah, blah, passover blah."
Needless to say, the register was closed for de-contamination, but our friends still got their cookies.
I didn't actually attend a seder while I was there, even though we were invited to a few, mostly because our time was spent shuttling between the hospital and our small apartment. It was where our mind was.
But, I did get a chance to make Matzo Ball Soup. And even though I did not receive rave reviews from the four-year-old that tasted it (I tend to overseason it), I must say, it did make me feel better.
After the debacle of this year, where I didn't even know on what day Passover started, I made it known to the Husband that in the future, I will make Passover a priority. That I will take off work and drive with Potato to my mom's house for the family celebration. That I will eat unleavened bread at least 5 out of the 8 days (it wreaks havoc on anyone's stomach). And that I will teach Potato why Passover is so important to me.
And, we will make new memories, for him and for us.
