Being a child of the 70's, I am not biased, but I believe we had the best music, witnessed history in the making, lived simpler lives, had more freedom, and saw carefree parents. It was a fantastic era to grow up in.
Born and raised in Montreal, Canada, I grew up in a mixed race, second marriage family. We were middle income, white, English and privileged, absolutely. Mom and I were Protestant and attend church weekly. My step Dad and his two children were proud of their Jewish heritage. I learned the stories and lessons of both religions and traditions by going to Sunday school early on and attending occasional bar mitzvahs and services at a well known Montreal synagogue.
It was the holidays that brought out the best of everything: food, traditions, and visits from jolly fat men and ghosts who enjoyed wine. At Easter, our family gathered to seek the eggs the bunny left behind. We'd dress up in new Spring clothes for church service and later enjoy a baked ham meal. Usually within a week, another holiday was to be celebrated.
During the days of Passover, our bread was met with the timely companion of Matzoh. My favorite way to eat this flat, unleavened bread is slathered with butter and cinnamon sugar. The same family, with the addition of my cousins and their parents, would group together once more for the first night seder. The prayers and readings during this very special meal are very long when not done in English. Hebrew sounds melodic and lovely now, but as a child, I was bored. I wasn't the youngest child, so I couldn't even get excited about asking the "four questions". Of course, I didn't speak the language anyway.
On the occasions when we read the English version of the Haggadah , stories of the biblical exodus, when the Jews were freed from slavery in Egypt kept me at the edge of my seat. If you've ever watched the Ten Commandments starring Charlton Heston, you know the story told. Every Passover, we set an extra cup of wine on the dinner table and opened the door for the enigmatic prophet Elijah, hoping he would enter.
But it was the season of Christmas and Hanukkah that continues to be magical. Our home housed the oversized Christmas tree with it's decorations yielding memories of years gone by, in front of the large paned window. It's light twinkled twice as many with the reflections bouncing back. We would all place the glass baubles and hand made trinkets from school years and home crafts in one area as we couldn't reach any higher. Somehow, in the morning they would all have climbed up the branches and found the perfect place to shine. Tinsel was placed so exquisitely , you would swear it was put on piece by piece. But whose mother would have that much patience?
Christmas morning brought the mountains of boxes and papers, bows and tissue, giggles, smiles and laughs. We knew Santa had snuck passed us once more with his bag of acknowledgement to another year of being a good child. Turkey has been placed in the over while we were still asleep. It took a long time to roast a bird large enough to feed twenty. And our house filled up quickly in the afternoon, with the promise of more gift exchanging, singing, skits and the warmth of knowing how much love surrounded us.
Usually just before or after this joyous occasion, Hannukah came with it's own traditions, new and old. The Hannukah bush is a relatively new one. I have to say, my mom and I always questioned why, if Hannukah is the festival of lights, why they didn't hang lights outside and in, as we did for the Christmas season. This new custom of decorating a plant or small green bush with blue and white lights and baubles made complete sense to us. Our menorah with it's colourful candles sat atop a table in front of a second window to honour the “Hanukkah miracle.” We played with a simple toy top known as a “dreidel”. and eagerly awaited the giving of gelt (the Yiddish word for “money”) during Hanukkah. And while money is nice, it was those chocolate coins that we cherished more. Those who emigrated to North America became accustomed to giving out gifts during this time as well, perhaps from watching the giving of Christmas. In our home we didn't do that because we knew Santa brought them.
I can't say with 100 % certainty that growing up in this situation taught me to embrace the cultures and religions of others and learn from them. I do know that I learned much about overcoming hardship, faith in the future, forgiveness, and love by meeting people from cultures and religions different from my own. I also know that growing up in a mixed religion family was the greatest blessing of all.
Wishing you a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hannukah, a Joyous Kwanzaa, a Festive Naw Ruz, a Blissful Buddha Day, a Celebratory Eid, a Feliz Navidad, and Warm Winter Solstice wishes. May your holidays be filled with joy and happiness. Let's remember that the essence of these greetings is to wish one another happiness, and there's nothing offensive about spreading good cheer. Embracing diversity is as easy as accepting these well-wishes graciously, just like you would any other gift.
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