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November 29, 2002
Enduring Chanukah gift
"Those little spinning things" made a big difference.
MICHELLE
DODEK SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH BULLETIN
We rarely appreciate the things our parents do for us when we are
children. The countless hours of driving and shlepping, cooking
and cleaning; all of these things most of my peers took for granted
growing up.
We also expected gifts at appropriate times of the year, including
birthdays and of course, Chanukah. I was no different, realizing
little of the sacrifices both of my parents made in order to raise
me. But there is one particular effort that my mother made, that
even as a wee child, I appreciated and adored.
Each December, around Chanukah, my mother organized the mothers
of the other two Jewish girls in my class, Lisa and Francine. She
had them make sugar cookies in the shapes of dreidels, chanukiyot
and magen Davids. One mother brought napkins and the other was assigned
dreidels and Chanukah candles. Whatever she had them do, her program
was always flawless. On top of all that, they presented an overview
of the holiday of Chanukah to my elementary school class each year.
The mothers took turns reading from my mother's script, which explained
the plight of the Jews under Greek rule and the triumphant victory
of the small band of Maccabees. The miracle of the oil was brought
to life as Lisa, Francine and I lit our own chanukiyot and sang
the blessings. We basked in the admiration of our non-Jewish classmates
as we pronounced the strange Hebrew words and lit the beautiful
candelabras. It was a great boost for the positive Jewish identity
we often struggled with growing up in Saskatoon.
"Christmastime" was a season, just as palpable as fall,
winter, spring and summer when I was growing up. I would have preferred
two Saskatoon winters to half of the two months of Christmastime.
I found it oppressive. But because of my mother's commitment to
helping me develop a positive Jewish identity in the midst of a
very non-Jewish place, her yearly visits to my class built my commitment
to the belief that being different is special and valuing traditions
is precious.
I didn't realize the impact those annual celebrations in my classroom
had until recently. I bumped into a man I had gone through school
with who I hadn't seen in at least eight years. After the usual
catch-up chit-chat, his face lit up. He asked when Chanukah was
this year because he knew it wasn't always the same time and he
reminisced about "those little spinning things" and the
delicious Chanukah cookies. I was so proud of my mother that this
20-something student who knew no one Jewish but me, remembered details
of Chanukah with a smile.
A few years ago, while visiting my parents in my childhood home,
I came across my mother's script in a cupboard. It brought back
many happy memories and moved me to tears. I know that the red cash
register I received when I was six was definitely my favorite gift
for many years, but I look at that Chanukah presentation now as
the best gift anyone could have given me.
Michelle Dodek is a Saskatonian at heart living happily
in Vancouver.
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