It all began last Friday when Dave tells me that a friend of ours grandmother passed away. Yael (the friend) is more than an acquaintance, but not someone I see and/or talk to each and every day like Dave. I see her every couple/few months, we swap stories, and that's about it. She's a great gal, I'm happy to have her on the 'ol Smash Friends Roster, and that's about that. Now, her grandmother passing away is a horrible thing and I felt deeply sorry for her. When I inquired as to when the funeral was, I found out that it was on Sunday. When my mother called to inform me, I told her that I already knew. I then asked her what I was supposed to do (death gets people asking the weirdest questions - most often questions looking for direction(s)). She told me that if I could make it, go, but if I couldn't don't worry. I told her that Lisa and I had a slew of wedding plans that we had made appointments to organize all over the place. To that my mom told me to not worry. So. What bits of information have we acquired thus far. 1 - Yael is a friend of mine that just (2) lost a grandmother whose (3) funeral was on Sunday - (4a) a Sunday that I already had completely booked and that (4b) I, at 27 years of age, received permission from my mother to miss. Makes sense so far, right? Prepare to begin to peak into the world that is Jewish Guilt. Deep down I had a little tingle that said I should go to the funeral, but since my mother assured me that I didn't have to I was able to, soundly, ignore that tingle. Instead, I had a great day with my lovely fiancé and, even though we didn't find everything we were looking for, we covered a couple things too (my tuxedo, the cake, and programs). Later that night, after Lisa and I had been home and relaxing after a long day, my mother called. Lisa picked up, my mother was very brief with the pleasantries and then asked to speak to me. "Where were you today?" "I was out with Lisa doing wedding stuff. You knew that. Why?" "How could you miss the funeral? If you were sick or if Lisa was sick then, maybe, that would be something. But for wedding stuff? You missed the funeral for wedding stuff?" What the hell? She sounds like my mother. Her use of vocabulary was in the style used by my mother. But she, this lady on the phone, wasn't in on the discussion I had with my mother only a couple days prior in which my not attending the funeral was an established and accepted fact. "What?" "What you did, Benjamin, was horrible. It was disgusting. It embarrassed me, it embarrassed your father, and it embarrassed the whole family. You brought shame on us all. Nothing you could have been doing today could have been more important than attending the funeral." And on and on it went like this, her lacing into me so hard I started to wonder if I was the person who killed the grandmother. The barrage of put-downs was relentless, and, after fifteen nonstop minutes, she didn't even pause to let me get a word in. When she was done, she pretty much hung up. I was stunned. I sat there completely stunned. Lisa looked at me with pity, wondering what was said on the phone. I looked at her and asked her if I was a bad person - if I was mean and evil. When she asked why I was asking those questions, I told her that my mother almost convinced me of it during that phone call. Day Two - Monday "Benjamin," I said - it's semi-formal at work so a simple 'hello' wouldn't fly. "Benjamin, I would like it if you went with your father to the Minyan at Yael's grandfather's house tonight." "Ok, mom, I'll go." "It's at 5:30." "Tell dad I'll pick him up at 5:00." Now, you're probably asking yourself two questions right now. 1 - After the yelling I just received from my mother the day before, why was I being so civil, and 2 - what the hell is a Minyan? Good questions. First of all, I was cordial and polite with my mother because, well, I'm always cordial and polite. She might have flipped out the day before and demonized me, but she also raised me to be a gentleman. Secondly, a Minyan is the traditional Jewish minimum requirement for a prayer service to begin. What is that minimum requirement - quite simply, only ten men. That's about it. Why did I go at all? Because Yael was still my friend, and since I got so much flak for missing the funeral, the least I could do was attend the first Minyan (the Jewish period of mourning goes on for several days, each night there's a Minyan). I picked up my father, we got to the Minyan, I take him home, and all is well. So far, aside from my mother's rant, there hasn't been that much funny. But, it's been pages of background that, I feel, will totally pay off starting now. Yael's grandparents are Orthodox, meaning that they're much more religious than I, a Reform Jew, am. They pray morning noon and night for everything, I don't. It's just the way it is. Oh, and I LOVE bacon, and I love lobster, and if you could offer me a dish that had lobster wrapped in bacon with a cheeseburger to wash it down - just tell me how much. Day Three - Tuesday "Benjamin, what time are you picking up your father tonight?" "For what?" "For the Minyan." "I'm not going to the Minyan." "Why not?" "Because I went yesterday." "That's not an excuse." "Yes it is." "Benjamin, you're going." "No I'm not." "You're going." "No." "You're going." "Mom, no, now leave me alone about this." Ridiculous. I'm getting the endless pressure. Maybe I was the one who killed the lady - it feels like I'm paying for it enough. That night I went to Lisa's parents' house to pick up a sample of our soon to be wedding cake to take to my folks the next day, to taste some wine that we thought about serving, and, of course, to eat dinner. Why did I tell you that? Check out tomorrow. Day Four - Wednesday "No, I'm not." "Benjamin, please, he's being a little crazy today so just go. As a favor for me." "Mom, I'm not going. I went once, and that's it. I don't feel any obligation to go." "You know, Benjamin, you've been acting like such a brat lately. It's like talking to a wall to you." "What? Mom, I just don't want to go to the Minyan, that's it. I'm not a bad person." "What do you have to do that's more important than going to the Minyan tonight?" "I'll think of something." After that phone call ended, I went about my business. When I came back from a meeting, there was a voicemail from my father, "Hello, Benjamin. This is your father, Zevika. I was wondering if you could go to the Minyan tonight in my place because I can't make it. Call me back, 555-5123." I hate it when my dad's mad at me - especially for no decent reason whatsoever. He leaves me messages on the phone, when he's mad, explaining what role he has in my life, his name, and the number at which I can reach him. I'm twenty-seven years old - pushing twenty-eight, I THINK I KNOW ALL THAT BY NOW! I didn't call him back because I knew I was going there for lunch (to bring them the cake), and when my father and I were alone he asked me, "So, can you go for me to the Minyan tonight?" "No." "What do you have to do that's so important that you can't go?" "Well, what do YOU have to do that's so important that YOU can't go?" Then, defensively and cocky as if he's somehow above his own little law, "Benjamin…" I split and went to work. You'd think it was over, but it wasn't. The phone again, "Benjamin, are you going to the Minyan tonight?" "NO MOM!" Day Five - Today Then my mom calls me yet again, "Hello Benjamin." "Hi mom." "What time do you think you'll pick up dad to go the Minyan tonight?" "What? I'm not going to the Minyan tonight." "But you said you were. You told me yesterday that you were." "Mom, I never said that and you know it." "But your father wants to go." "That's great. I have to go." So, a new day brings new tricks. The guilt wasn't bringing me in, so I assume my mom must have thought, "…maybe guilt AND lies will get him to go." It didn't work, and, I'm still wondering how my mother, father, or anyone the world over, would benefit by my going to the Minyan. And there we have it. As I finish up writing this, I'm wondering it is indeed funny. It's annoying for me to read -hell, it's annoying just for me to think about it - but I thought an outsider or two out there might find it amusing. As for tomorrow, who knows what'll happen. I'll probably get something like this on the phone, "Benjamin, it's Shabbat. Don't tell me you're not going to the Minyan on Shabbat." "Yes mom, that's exactly what I'm telling you." |
