Tuesday, April 19, 2011

A Jew in Texas

"What do you mean you're OUT of gefilte fish?!" The tattooed, bearded Whole Foods employee looks blankly at the large mustached Jewish man and his auburn haired wife, who are pushing a half empty cart of Matzoh, a small jar of horseradish, and about 3 bottles of wine.

"Uh, we're just, out."

Thus begins our journey into the joys of being a non-practicing half-Jew in Texas, attempting to procure food for a Passover Seder.

We did manage to find Gefilte fish (white fish which comes in glass jars and appears to be the consistency of fluffy fish pate, but for some reason tastes kind of awesome) at Wheatsville, the local co-op where everyone looks like they live in Olympia, except they all have tans.

We skipped the roast lamb this year and settled for store bought mesquite roasted chicken, a wise decision on a day when the heat and humidity was pushing into the 90's. (I know that's nothing for Texas, but my parents said it was 38 degrees and raining when they left Seattle last week.)

Of course, the thought of roasting meat on a scorching afternoon did make me a bit nostalgic for the childhood summers spent in Canarsie, Brooklyn, when Bubbie would insist on cooking us roast turkey in her tiny apartment, and my Dad would have to take us out to walk around the neighborhood and eat popsicles for hours while it cooked.  I think the heat of that kitchen even made the plastic covering on the sofa begin to sweat.

Bubbie was dearly missed last night, though she has been gone from us for 13 years now.  My lovely, big hearted Jewish grandma apparently sent my parents a "Jew package" when she heard we were going to start celebrating Passover, about 30 years ago.  We still use everything she sent.  In fact, my parents brought a bunch of it with them on the flight from Seattle so that we could celebrate Passover here in Texas, with my roommates, our dear friend Annie and her son, and the few other half-jews I have found in the last 2 months here.

In addition to the Seder items, my folks also produced from their suitcases a package of pink, delicious smoked salmon, my running shoes, and TWO STUFFED ANIMALS! I now have a panda, a dog, a porcupine, and Vladimir the koala on my bed. My dad suggested I build them a shelf.  God help me.

Besides eating and drinking ourselves silly, my parents and I sat around on the couches in the living room, took lots of naps, played guitar, and went on a road trip to find the Alamo.

On the way, passing by gigantic strip malls and watching the sprawl of San Anotonio bleed out into what once was farmland, Papa lost it a little bit, and started yelling; "Look at that! A fucking mall the size of Rhode Island! Now there's a fucking traffic jam in the middle of fucking nowhere! I love Texas."

He calmed down once we ate delicious Mexican food for lunch, and although my parents both agreed they could never live in Texas, they will visit me a lot.

Back to our road trip. Did you know the Alamo is NOT in the middle of a field? I didn't. I was imagining a two lane dirt road, marked by cactus, the sun bleached skulls of bulls and iron statues of David Crockett. Turns out it's in the middle of downtown.  I did get to see some nifty dioramas.

I was thinking about family quite a bit over the last few days, as I spent time with my parents, relishing their ridiculous sense of humor, generosity, and loving spirits. Shelley and Melissa you were missed last night as I dropped wine on my plate yelling, "Vermin! Cattle disease! Slaying of the first born!" For some reason that made me miss you.

It is strange to adjust to the thought that I may only see them a few times a year, at best, for as long as I live outside of Washington.  But, this is part of the journey, I reckon, and it although a sap likes me tends to wallow in nostalgia, it causes me to realize yet again that change, although usually fraught with some level of uncertainty, leads us where we need to go.

I cried like a baby when they drove away (nothing new for me, I just like to stick with my routine when it comes to saying goodbye to people I adore) and they took with them a handful of postcards and a cactus named Scooter, tucked into my Mom's purse. (A gift courtesy of Scott.)

I am left with more groceries then I know what to do with, money for a haircut and a new bike tire, a summer dress and some pillows from Target. They really know how to treat a girl a well.

The house feels quiet now, and suddenly their few days here seemed to have passed far too quickly.

I know I have been lax in writing, most likely because I have spent too many days and nights looking up basset hounds on the internet, waking at 4 am to work at the coffee shop, playing scrabble, and checking out all the happy hour deals within walking distance of my house.  Stay tuned for more Texan tales of how I defeated pinkeye, and other shenanigans.

As always, I hope this find you well. Mom and Pa, I miss you already.

Yours very truly,

Red