Making Passover
Passover 2020. I fondly remember mocking all the people who had to stay home and make Pesach for the first time ever. “Oh what will I do?” “Where do I even begin?” “How am I going to do all of the preparing myself?”
By the grace of God, I had gone to Amazing Savings a few weeks earlier (sometimes it pays to be a little OCD) and gotten all of my tins, paper goods, containers, and whatever else I thought I would need.
When Amazing Savings closed, as per order of the powers-that-be, the Teaneck Shuls posts were fast and furious. No one knew what to do or where to go or how to obtain all the essentials for the holiday. I was so proud of myself that I might have actually patted myself on the back.
I really did love making Pesach. The best part was having my dad make his “famous” charoset with the boys. And though he is no longer with us, the chopper and bowl remain the same. Truthfully, nothing is ever the same, especially after someone who held such a big place in your home and heart are no longer in your home — though they are always in your heart.
And if you are nuts like me, they appear as different types of birds in your trees outside your kitchen window. But I digress from whatever point I am trying to make.
Now I make the charoset, usually alone because as funny as it would be to watch, I don’t have the heart to leave Husband #1 alone with a chopper. That could end badly in too many ways to count.
Anyway, last year, when Husband #1 said, “Let’s go to Israel for Pesach next year,” I looked at him and said, “Really? Why would we do that?” Initially, he was thinking that Son #2 and Son #3 were both going to be there for the holiday, so I guess that was why he wanted to go. We would only have to fly Son #1 over to the Holy Land.
Well, like most things in life, and you probably know what is coming next — man plans and God says, you really think that I am going to make this easy for you?
Son #3 and his wife and their Matzo Ball decided they were coming back to America. Of course their plan also got made fun of. Unless they enjoyed flying from Israel to Athens, Athens to Istanbul, and then Istanbul to Kennedy Airport with a 10-month-old. But that is a whole other column.
Son #1 and his wife and their Strudel and her sisters had planned to stay in America with my DIL’s family since they were with us last year.
And that left Son #2, his wife, and their Danish and her sisters. And even though it was her year to be in Florida, my MIL decided that she wanted to come as well.
Husband #1 bought non-refundable El Al tickets for him and his mom. (No, I do not know why. Yes, I know it is ridiculous and no one ever does that, but it isn’t my fault, so just ask him why.)
I was going to leave a little earlier, so I bought my ticket on United. When murmurings started about Iran and a war, we joked that my flight would get cancelled, and Husband #1 and his mother would be able to spend Pesach in Israel without me. (Insert Freudian joke comments here.)
A week before the war, when KLM announced it was cancelling flights, Husband #1 said I needed to book backup tickets on El Al. Man is still planning and God is still laughing his perfect head off.
What will be? Am I going? Are we going? Ask 10 people, get 10 different stories and theories and political 2 cents.
For me, politics is the least of it right now. My Danish has had a “Countdown to Babka” calendar, with days being crossed off for the past six weeks.
How can I let down Danish and her big blue eyes?
Come on, God…plan with me here!
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck will be waiting until the last possible minute to see how this story ends before she starts bringing up her Passover accoutrements…. Think good, will be good…
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