On Sunday, just as we and our apartment were recovering from the New Year’s that was, we had two cousins (children of dear cousins Ricky z”l and Judy, and dear, if young, cousins in their own rights). FOB (father of blogger and their great uncle) joined and so it was a multi, collateral-generational event.
It was scheduled for 11am and then re-scheduled for 10:30am by one of my young cousins, so she could catch a train to get upstate for school. She had lived in New York for a year but in short order we forgot that she is never, ever, ever on time. If this fact was lost to save another, more necessary fact from slipping out of my memory banks, so be it. [As a digression (of course), does anyone else fantasize about have one of those 8 GB memory cards inserted in your brain? Did I just admit that this is the subject of my fantasies? Ugh, my filter was gone years before I could blame age.]
I didn’t even bother to tell FOB of the earlier start time because, as I have discussed before, as a person gets older, a person arrives earlier and earlier at any event. So I knew he would be on time, even early, for the rescheduled time. And FOB did not let me down. I was a little worried that he would be so early as to eat dinner with us on Saturday night, but we aren’t at that stage yet.
POB (partner of blogger) got up early to get provisions. She is a G-dsend and she reminds me of that daily (the memory thing again).
So while the rest of were all assembled at 10:30am (FOB even earlier and her younger brother exactly on time), my little cousin and her NEW boyfriend arrived at 11am. We didn’t realize he was ACTUALLY coming — a little mix-up on that score — but we always buy enough lox, bagels and white fish salad. And we have food on hand if a person is not Jewish — gastronomically or otherwise.
We endured her old boyfriend who was Dutch-Israeli (how did his parents get along long enough to procreate, you might ask, but I really, really can’t go there). You might be having trouble imagining the effect of a Dutch and Israeli genetic mixture? Rest easy, I have your answer: You get someone who tells you his opinions framed as THE TRUTH (there is only one) in a smug and arrogant way. Really, I am not joking. But wait, it gets weirder, the old boyfriend works in the hospitality industry. Let’s pause on that point for a moment because you cannot make that stuff up. There was something undeniably charming about him. But I digress. [Sigh] Yes, I digress AGAIN.
So, bottom line, we were prepared for anything. And quite curious.
Also, just some background on her (right) wing of the family. They are somewhat religious so non-Jewish partners are problematic.
The boyfriend (now, probably, “ex” after meeting us) is not Jewish. Never letting inappropriate conversation get in the way of a family gathering, my other young cousin reported that his grandparents on the OTHER side of the family have issues with their older brother’s relationship with an older non-Jewish woman who has two kids. Pause. I contemplate that both my siblings are happily married to non-Jews and that I, THE LESBIAN, am the only one with a Jewish partner.
Not wanting the new boyfriend to feel toooo bad about this xenophobic-is-it-good-for-the-Jews conversation, I offered helpfully that my cousin’s eggs are Jewish so the family should be ok with a Christian boyfriend (assuming that he wasn’t yet dying to run screaming out the door), but of course we will need some of his blood in order to make wine for Passover.
Did I really mention the blood for Passover wine? Happily I can say, with little or no guile, that I honestly don’t remember. Maybe I don’t want that memory chip after all. [cheesy smile]
