There
have been certain immutables in my life; my mother asking if I had
enough to eat, my love affair with the Yankees, my support for the
Democratic party.
And, oh yes, one more: an invitation to break the fast at the home of my friends.
For
what must be at least a quarter of a century, as sure as the sun rises,
there was this feast. My friends, as generous of appetite as they are
of heart, with their motto excess is best displayed in a kitchen that is
the epicenter of their universe, hosting a hungry horde of friends,
relatives and assorted countrymen. The lox my perpetual favorite, but
devouring whatever was within arm's reach.
It mattered not that I long ago stopped the practice of fasting, my mind
and stomach triggered merely by the thought of the gastronomic treat
that awaited.
And
even as life changed, a child married and our family was pulled in
different directions, even as this year an invitation to another home
was accepted, the possibility of not receiving that wonderful note
requesting our presence at the home of our friends seemed as remote as a
trip to Mars.
So it was
with more than a touch of bewilderment that I read, multiple times, the
announcement: there would be a one year hiatus in the tradition, as my
friend's family was heading to other environs to celebrate this year. It
was an email promising this was but a hiccup, but it was like
suggesting that the sun would be on vacation until further notice, or
that my mom was telling me that I had eaten too much already.
Or
like waking up one morning to find the Yankees no longer in
pinstripes, names now prominently displayed on the back of their
uniforms. Oh, you say that's exactly what occurred this weekend.
My
friend's thoughts appeared to be part apology, part lament, for he
understood that it was not just his pleasure, but his duty to open his
arms and his kitchen to the huddled masses on this day each year. To not
do so would be akin to Lady Liberty turning her back on those at her
doorstep yearning to be free.
Oh, this is a most unusual and unsettling time.
2 comments:
I understand how you feel
The same happened to us
My husband fasts and stays to the end of the service and the shofar is blown
Our friends who over the years started eating before we got there but always waited for us before they moved any food called to say they were going to have to make other plans this year as their son's fiancée's family
Invited them to their home
We were invited but somethings just have to change and so we feel your pain
L
Is there such a thing as a temporary immutable?
KH
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