Last month, in my post for Kveller.com about the new musical sitcom, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, I wrote:
Our first clue that Rebecca might be Jewish comes when we meet her teen
self at drama camp in 2005. She confesses to her boyfriend, Josh, that
her mother is “just pissed because I didn’t do the mock trial summer
intensive.” Jewish mothers be crazy, am I right?
Read the entire post at: http://www.kveller.com/single-jewish-women-get-a-bad-rap-on-tv-but-crazy-ex-girlfriend-is-hilarious/
Then, this past Monday, we finally had a nice long visit with Rebecca's mother (previously, she'd only been a voice on the phone or a badgering figure in flashbacks). At the end of the episode, she gives a long speech about why she's so tough on her daughter (spoiler: Cossacks are involved). For those who thought it was a bit extreme, especially for a family who's been in America for generations, here is another post I wrote for Kveller, back in 2013:
"The moral of Passover is when you’re told
to get up and go, you get up and GO. You don’t start digging through
your junk. You take what’s most important, and you leave everything else
behind. That’s impossible to do if you live in this kind of mess. How
are you ever going to find what you need? If the Israelites didn’t even
have time to wait for their bread to rise, trust me, they did not have
time to go searching for socks that matched or ponder which book series
to pack, Harry Potter or Narnia!"
And that’s when it hit me that perhaps my tirade wasn’t only about a
messy bedroom–though, trust, me, that was indeed a substantial part of
it. That, just perhaps, it was also about my on-going, ridiculous,
irrational, yet nonetheless persistent fear that, someday soon, it may
be time to flee. And my kids won’t be prepared.
I know it’s totally absurd, but, every time we have to run for the
subway, and I tell my sons and daughter, “Hurry,” and even the
5-year-old grabs my hand and hustles up the stairs double-time, not
asking questions about why, not dawdling, not fussing, while the older
two momentarily stop their sniping and one-upsmanship and do exactly as I
say, I honestly feel a sense of relief that goes beyond being grateful
we didn’t miss our train. I genuinely think, “Good. If this were a real
emergency, they’d have made it through.”
And if the above doesn’t go off like clockwork, I sincerely panic and
wonder, “What would have happened if this were a real emergency?”
Apparently…I have issues. Year-round ones. Which Passover happens to bring out in particular.
I realize that we live in America. Where, I fervently believe, even
the most right-wing fundamentalist extremists and/or the most left-wing
Communist sympathizers will never accumulate enough political or social
power to rouse my family from our beds in the middle of the night and
issue the historically familiar edict, “Gather up your things and get
But, just in case it ever does happen, I’m ready to flee at a
moment’s notice at the first sound of galloping Cossacks approaching.
Read more at: http://www.kveller.com/how-i-learned-to-clean/