I attend a weekly music class with Nora that is legitimately awesome, as we live in New York City, so every person leading a kiddie music class is actually a Broadway star in the making, and their talent blows me away every time. I seriously feel like I get a small personal concert every Thursday morning. Today I was particularly excited because I knew the songs would be holiday themed.
When we arrived, the lead singer greeted us…
Singer (whispering aside): “I know you guys are Jewish. Don’t worry, this is all non-denominational. Just winter songs. We really try to be sensitive to all religions.”
Me: “Wow, that’s very considerate but REALLY not necessary!”
Singer: “No, it’s necessary. It’s the respectful thing to do.”
Me: “Aw, you guys are SO SWEET!”
If you don’t sing “All I Want For Christmas” I will legit murder everyone here.
Getting Nora ready to attend a Yom Kippur break fast….
Me: “We’re going to eat lots of yummy Jewish food! Like bagels, and lox, and maybe even some kugel!”
Nanny: “Oh! I love Jewish food.”
Me: “Oh really?”
Nanny: “Yes my favorite is spaghetti bolognese.”
Nanny: “I worked for this Jewish lady and EVERY single Thursday she make spaghetti bolognese and I tell my husband ‘Oh, I LOVE this Jewish food!”
Me: “Ok, but spaghetti bolognese is not, like, a traditionally JEWISH food.”
Nanny: “But she is Jewish.”
Me: “She’s just a Jew who likes spaghetti.”
Our past three weeks, by the numbers:
Family babies born (cousins): 3
Family deaths: 3
Britot (bris) attended: 2
Funerals attended: 2
Shivas attended: 3
Pounds of whitefish salad consumed: 82309123900982389308931
Our building busybody (the same lady who commented inappropriately on my ring, and assumed that because I am a tutor, I am a dog walker) is at it again.
Busybody: “So, how’s married life? Have you changed your last name yet?”
Me: “It’s great! No, I haven’t. I’m not sure it’s necessary to legally change it.”
Busybody: “Oh my god really? I couldn’t WAIT to change my name.”
Me: “Ok. Well, to each her own! I mean I’ll informally use Eric’s last name, I’m happy for people to call me Emily Taylor, and to introduce myself that way. Just don’t see the need to go through a legal process. But we’ll see, maybe one day.”
Busybody: “His last name is Taylor? What’s yours?”
Busybody: “Oh, honey. You should change it. Taylor is a great last name– then people won’t know what you are.”
Me (silent, confused pause): “You mean…a Jew?”
Me: (blank stare)
Busybody: “Sometimes it’s just better, in certain circumstances, that people don’t know, you know?”
So now I’m keeping Lerman just to spite you.
Me: “With everything going on in our country right now, I’m honestly just so horrified and saddened as a human in general– but as a Jew in particular, as I know you can relate–”
Therapist: “Oh I’m actually not Jewish.”
Me: “You’re NOT?! But your last name–”
Therapist: “I know. A common Jewish last name. People often assume I am Jewish.”
Me: “But I feel like I’ve had all these insider only-jews-would-get-this kind of exchanges with you.”
Therapist: “Hmm. I didn’t interpret them that way.”
Therapist: “What are you thinking?”
Me: “Oh, oh nothing. This obviously doesn’t change anything.”
I just have to re-think every piece of advice you’ve ever given me.
That moment when your rabbi Venmo’s you a wedding gift.
I’m in the elevator and an elderly lady walks in…
Lady (after staring at me for 10 seconds): “Are you pregnant?”
Me: “No. I am not. And honestly, this is the second time this has happened to me in an elevator and I don’t understand why.”
Lady: “It’s the way you’re holding your stomach. Makes it seem like something’s in there.”
Me: “Yeah, there is. Dairy. I’m Jewish.”
Lady: “Ah. Enough said.”
Discussing fasting on Yom Kippur with a Jewish friend…