A Skype family seder

JOYCE OZIER

It’s a rare seder that’s ever truly complete. There are always loved ones who are too far away, too sick, or tied up for one reason or another to be there, leaving a hole in our hearts and at the table. That was the situation in our family this year, when it became clear that our eldest daughter Elizabeth’s family (including our only two grandchildren), who live in Ottawa, couldn’t make it to Vancouver.

I thought, “OK. No problem. We’ll just have them here on Skype, put the laptops on the table, and they will be with us virtually. All we need is a couple of laptops and two Skype accounts.” For those not yet familiar with Skype, it’s an online service that enables you to communicate in real-time video almost anywhere in the world. And not only is it amazing, but it’s free!

I pictured a warm, heimishe family gathering. In my mind, the smiling images of our absentee family were singing and getting silly together at their special places at the table, framed by computer screens, enjoying the novelty of it all and having a wonderful time. Everyone agreed it was a brilliant idea. Perfect ... or so we thought.

I mailed a couple of well-worn copies of our accumulated Haggadahs to Ottawa. When the package arrived, Elizabeth called to get my exact recipes so she could create the exact same meal. She wanted us all to be tasting the exact same flavors. It was coming together. My only nagging concern was how we would handle the fun of hiding and searching for the afikoman but, being an eternal optimist, I figured that the issue would miraculously sort itself out when we got to it.

The first hitch came when Elizabeth pointed out that the 6 p.m. start time in Vancouver would be 9 p.m. in Ottawa and much too late for the children to eat, so they would all eat their meal early and only the matzah, charoset, maror, wine, etc., that were used in the actual telling of the story would be left on the Ottawa table. OK.

The next hurdle came when we did a test run and found that one of the laptops we’d planned to use in Vancouver was too old to accommodate Skype video. We had to find another one at the last minute. Somehow, we pulled it off.

So, at 5:45 p.m. on seder night, we set up the two laptops (one parent/one child on each), turned the room lights up high, and made the cross-country connection. We then welcomed all our “real” guests and everyone sat down at the table. A “designated driver” was assigned to sit next to each laptop to be in charge of continually changing the angle of the screen, so that our virtual guests would be able to follow around the table naturally.

We quickly discovered that two laptops next to each other create electronic feedback. Someone suggested turning the sound off on one laptop. That eliminated the awful noise at our end, but meant we couldn’t hear two of our virtual guests. We forged ahead, straining to develop our lip-reading skills each time two of our group had their turns to speak.

Soon, however, the problems of having different versions of the Haggadah, which is a given at most seder tables, proved impossible virtually. When seated together around a table, guests generously help each other navigate through the diverse Haggadah. Unfortunately, the editions sent to Ottawa were different from the one being used by our leader, my husband Irving. Without the quiet support of a finger-pointing tablemate, they were lost.

As the seder went on, from the expressions on their faces, we could see the Ottawa group was getting more and more frustrated. They did not look happy. The kids got crabby and wanted to leave. Their parents insisted they stay. That made the kids even more unhappy. Were we all having fun? Suddenly, a small revolution erupted.

Thankfully, Irving stopped the seder and asked all involved if they wanted to continue. General consensus at both ends was that enough was enough, and this year’s Skype seder experiment came to an untimely end.

We’re hoping that all our loved ones will be “real” next year. However, if the situation does arise again, I’m certain we’ll have it perfected by then.

Joyce Ozier is a freelance writer and artist living in Vancouver.

^TOP