D
DEEPWATER
Guest
ON BEING JEWISH
There is so much truth in these!
You know you're Jewish when...
you spent your entire childhood thinking everyone called pot roast "brisket."
You grew up thinking it was normal for someone to
shout "Are you okay? Are you okay?" through the bathroom door when you were in
there longer than 3 minutes.
Your family dog responded to commands in Yiddish.
Every Saturday morning your father went to the
neighborhood deli (called an "appetizing store") for whitefish salad, whitefish
("chubs"), lox (nova if you were rich!), herring, corned beef, roast beef, cole slaw,
potato salad, a 1/2-dozen huge barrel pickles, a dozen assorted bagels, cream
cheese and rye bread (sliced while he waited) .. all of which would be
strictly off-limits until Sunday morning.
Every Sunday afternoon was spent visiting your
Grandparents and/or other relatives.
You experienced the phenomenon of 50 people fitting
into a 10-foot-wide dining room hitting each other with plastic plates trying to
get to a deli tray.
You had at least one female relative who penciled on
eyebrows which were always asymmetrical.
You thought pasta was stuff used exclusively for Kugel
and kasha with bowties.
You were as tall as your grandmother by the age of
seven.
You were as tall as your grandfather by the age seven
and a half.
You never knew anyone whose last name didn't end in
one of 5 standard suffixes
(berg, baum, man, stein and witz.)
You were surprised to discover that wine doesn't
always taste like cranberry sauce.
You can look at gefilte fish and not turn green.
You can understand Yiddish but you can't speak it.
Your mother smacked you really hard and continues to
make you feel bad for hurting her hand.
You know how to pronounce numerous Yiddish words and
use them correctly in context, yet you don't exactly know what they mean.
Kinahurra.
You're still angry at your parents for not speaking
both Yiddish and English to you when you were a baby.
You have at least one ancestor who is somehow related
to your spouse's ancestor.
Your grandparent's newly washed linoleum floor was
covered with the NY Times, which your grandparents could not read.
You thought speaking loud was normal.
You considered your Bar or Bat Mitzvah a "Get Out of
Hebrew School Free" card.
You think eating half a jar of dill pickles is a
wholesome snack.
You're compelled to mention your grandmother's "steel
cannonballs" upon seeing fluffy matzo balls served at restaurants.
You buy 3 shopping bags worth of hot bagels on every
trip to NYC and ship them home via FedEx. (Or, if you live near NYC or
Philadelphia or another Jewish city hub, you drive 3 hours just to buy a dozen "real"
bagels.)
Your mother took personal pride when a Jew was noted
for some accomplishment (showbiz, medicine, politics, etc.) and
was ashamed and embarrassed when a Jew was accused of a crime .. as if
they were relatives.
You thought sleep away college was only where non-Jews
went ... Jews went to city schools ... unless they had scholarships or made
an Ivy League school.
And finally, you knew that Sunday night and the night
after any Jewish holiday was designated for Chinese food.
There is so much truth in these!
You know you're Jewish when...
you spent your entire childhood thinking everyone called pot roast "brisket."
You grew up thinking it was normal for someone to
shout "Are you okay? Are you okay?" through the bathroom door when you were in
there longer than 3 minutes.
Your family dog responded to commands in Yiddish.
Every Saturday morning your father went to the
neighborhood deli (called an "appetizing store") for whitefish salad, whitefish
("chubs"), lox (nova if you were rich!), herring, corned beef, roast beef, cole slaw,
potato salad, a 1/2-dozen huge barrel pickles, a dozen assorted bagels, cream
cheese and rye bread (sliced while he waited) .. all of which would be
strictly off-limits until Sunday morning.
Every Sunday afternoon was spent visiting your
Grandparents and/or other relatives.
You experienced the phenomenon of 50 people fitting
into a 10-foot-wide dining room hitting each other with plastic plates trying to
get to a deli tray.
You had at least one female relative who penciled on
eyebrows which were always asymmetrical.
You thought pasta was stuff used exclusively for Kugel
and kasha with bowties.
You were as tall as your grandmother by the age of
seven.
You were as tall as your grandfather by the age seven
and a half.
You never knew anyone whose last name didn't end in
one of 5 standard suffixes
(berg, baum, man, stein and witz.)
You were surprised to discover that wine doesn't
always taste like cranberry sauce.
You can look at gefilte fish and not turn green.
You can understand Yiddish but you can't speak it.
Your mother smacked you really hard and continues to
make you feel bad for hurting her hand.
You know how to pronounce numerous Yiddish words and
use them correctly in context, yet you don't exactly know what they mean.
Kinahurra.
You're still angry at your parents for not speaking
both Yiddish and English to you when you were a baby.
You have at least one ancestor who is somehow related
to your spouse's ancestor.
Your grandparent's newly washed linoleum floor was
covered with the NY Times, which your grandparents could not read.
You thought speaking loud was normal.
You considered your Bar or Bat Mitzvah a "Get Out of
Hebrew School Free" card.
You think eating half a jar of dill pickles is a
wholesome snack.
You're compelled to mention your grandmother's "steel
cannonballs" upon seeing fluffy matzo balls served at restaurants.
You buy 3 shopping bags worth of hot bagels on every
trip to NYC and ship them home via FedEx. (Or, if you live near NYC or
Philadelphia or another Jewish city hub, you drive 3 hours just to buy a dozen "real"
bagels.)
Your mother took personal pride when a Jew was noted
for some accomplishment (showbiz, medicine, politics, etc.) and
was ashamed and embarrassed when a Jew was accused of a crime .. as if
they were relatives.
You thought sleep away college was only where non-Jews
went ... Jews went to city schools ... unless they had scholarships or made
an Ivy League school.
And finally, you knew that Sunday night and the night
after any Jewish holiday was designated for Chinese food.
