Hi folks,
Just to let you all know that you are the greatest FAMILY
anyone could ask for I am getting SO much support-
thank you for being there.
I couldn't possibly lay on that log like a dead ol' bump
for long. I've made it back to the snail stage already.
We (the part-time caregiver team and I) have wrapped
the presents - PD-style- hung the stocking by the
chimney, by jim'ney.
Ther's MORE.. get this: I {not "we"} am baking
APPLE PIE for Santa and his "thirtry-two feet and eight little
tails of white"..
So now I have to roll over into the TWAH (that's a new
Beckerism) - XMAS - KWANZAA - JOYEUX NOEL -
HAPPY NEW YEAR - BLESSED RAMADAN -
may the Holy Spirit bless you mode.
I'm going to try and get to a candlelight service
at a little tiny community church tonight -
First though, I would like to share something
very personal and very special...I hope you like it.
I did manage to sing the solo to Rock of Ages
three times (Dec 10 -12 ) in tuxedo, for my
chorus's Holiday Concert. I read this narration first:
BEING JEWISH IN DECEMBER
Being Jewish, December always provides me with the joys of
the Festival of
Lights, or Chanukah. Even as a small child, the excitement of eight
days of gift exchanges,
the magic of lighting the bright, colored candles of the Chanukah
candelabra, or Menorah, and the tradition of singing joyous Hebrew songs
of praise all gave me a special appreciation of
my unique, ancient, Old Testament-based roots,.
Growing up in Providence, Rhode Island, Christian-oriented
society that surrounded me marked December with displays of beautiful
lights, Christmas carols on the radio throughout Christmas Eve, family
gatherings on Christmas Day, relief from the pressures of school work,
and most of all, a special spark and excitement that only Christmas
brings.
Many front windows in my own neighborhood were filled with
silhouettes of tall trees and their shimmering lights. While all this
was going on, my brothers and I gathered night after night in the
kitchen, to eat supper with our parents, and to exchange gifts. My
mother's sister, my uncle and my first cousins were celebrating in the
house next door, while my mother's parents also were celebrating, in
their apartment directly over ours.
Delicious potato pancakes, or latkes, made from Old World
recipes that have survived for
generations, were being enjoyed in all three households. These were
served piping hot, with liberal amounts of either apple sauce, or sour
cream. Gradually, the glow of the menorah, with one new candle added each
night after sundown, became so bright that electric lights were virtually
unnecessary.
Knowing that the miraculous ancient Temple oil burned for eight
days instead of one, my brothers and I watched the candles like hawks,
seeing which one would last the longest, and wondering and even betting
on which candle would be the last to go out! Somehow, in our Rhode
Island menorah, a modern Chanukah miracle seemed to be very , very
possible.
Ivan Suzman, Portland, Maine
December 7th, 1999.
