Growing up, I was one of those lucky kids who got to celebrate both Hannukah and Christmas. My dad was raised a messianic Jew and, although he diverged from the practices when he became an adult, we still celebrated the holidays. I got 8 days of gifts and then a heap load of presents at Christmas. It was a kid’s dream!
I have so many great memories of my family’s Jewish traditions. My sister and I argued over whose turn it was to light the menorah. We ate potato pancakes, challah, and kugel at Hannukah parties, and of course, all of the kids were given tons of gelt. At some point in my childhood we learned the Hanukkah prayer but somehow I never truly learned how to play dreidel.
When I was a teenager, my dad passed away. I have tried hard since then to celebrate Hannukah the best that I can. My sister and I often have Hanukkah dinner parties. I make potato pancakes, kugel, brisket, and matzo ball soup. For us, it isn’t as much about the traditions of Hannukah but about keeping the memories with our Dad alive. Every year, I light the tree-shaped menorah that my Dad bought.
My son, Michael, is named after my father. He won’t ever get to meet his grandpa but I hope to teach him about my Dad and his upbringing. Last year, I bought Michael a dreidel set and I read him Hanukkah books from my childhood as well as a few I have bought for him over the years. His favorite is “Happy Hannukah, Corduroy.” Although my husband is Catholic and I am Christian, it’s important to me to keep my Jewish roots alive.
