Tonight, the Chili family will participate, yet again, in the O’Mama Family Passover Seder.
I have written here before about how honored I am that my friends choose to include me, a pretty outspoken non-believer, in their traditions (also, and not for nothing, I think that this stands in support of the fact that, regardless of how I may come across in print sometimes, I really am pretty tolerant of others’ beliefs). I’m looking forward to a night of fellowship, laughter, and lots and lots of good food.
Last week, Martin came to my school to talk to my students about growing up in Nazi Germany. When he touched upon the Nuremberg Laws, I pointed out to my students that, under those statues, I would have been considered a Jew; my mother’s mother’s grandmother was a Jew, and that tenuous link would have been enough to condemn me. I have often said of myself, though, that I must have some strange combination of Jewish-Italian grandmother in me, because one of the primary ways I express love and care for people is that I feed them.
This afternoon, I put together a strange sort of matzo, toffee, chocolate, and sea salt dessert to bring to the (already bountiful) Seder, and my initial impressions of my efforts are that I won’t be bringing any leftovers home. O’Mama has been jonesing for this stuff ever since I told her it was my planned contribution, and I hope that she likes it as much as she’s hoping to; it certainly LOOKS yummy.