Tales from the Towers: Rosh Hashana dinner

Preparing for the Rosh Hashana dinner, my daughter wanted each of her guests to have his own traditional round sweetroll. I was quite amazed watching her prepare the dough, divide it into equal little amounts and roll them out into strands. Then she rolled up each strand like a seashell, leaving a hole in the middle through which she inserted the outer end of the strand.

"Now you do one," she suggested, "you roll one out!"

I looked helplessly at the small mound of dough she had placed before me and remembered my childhood, when I used to make pretty little things out of plastiline, now called playdough. That was such a long time ago! My daughter criticially watched me work with the dough.

"Too short," she said, or "too long," or "not even enough!" She had already modeled 16 cute rolls while I still worked on my first one. She finally took pity on me and took mine away, remodeling it into perfect shape.

Watching my daughter in her kitchen is like watching the ball during a tennis match. She flits around from one end to the other, quicker than I can turn my head. She makes me dizzy. In my best years I was never that fast, and lately I move around my kitchen like a turtle with a headache. This child of mine obviously hasn't inherited my genes!

Well, that's not true... she does have some of my genes. Two days ago when she told me she had to run to the store because she forgot to buy honey. She returns with some full shopping bags and announces: "You know... I forgot the honey!"

Those are definitely my genes!

One sunny morning we traveled to the La Jolla Beach because we wanted to watch the seals. Trouble was the seals didn't want to watch us, and we walked along the shore a long time looking for them. Here and there we thought we had spotted one, but it turned out to be either a diver or an unidentifiable flotsam. The seals were hiding from us.

Everyone here knows the expression "soccer mom" - usually one of the young and pretty American women who dedicate their lives to watching and cheering their children on the soccer field. I decided that I was a "soccer grandma" and asked my oldest grandson if there were many other soccer grandmas around.

"Oh yes, he said, here and there they crawl out from the bushes!"

I knew he would come up with the right answer!

Rosh Hashana dinner was quite impressive. We had many guests, and they brought great amounts of food, actually each of the ladies contributed what they believed to be their piece de resistance to show my daughter that they can do it too. We had a long table beautifully decorated. I remember Rosh Hashanah meals in the past being joyous and full of laughter, but don't remember them being particularly religious. This time, however, one of the guests took out a siddur and read all the ancient blessings in a sonorous voice. Then he encouraged all the fathers present to place their hands on the heads of their children and bless them for the year to come. The ceremony impressed me deeply and I thought to myself that it was just this kind of rite which causes our people to survive and exist against all odds through many centuries.

And then, just when I reached the peak of involvement with the proceedings, I made an unexpected discovery. Most of the guests kept their cell phones - with internet connections - right next to their plates! An incongruous combination of old and new, but I guess even during the most heartfelt and pious blessings and the most delicious meal, you can't risk missing an important call or message.

My oldest grandson looked with astonishment at a chair on the seat of which were placed two books and a pillow. After a while a look of enlightenment lit up his face. He solved the mystery and exclaimed:

"Aha! Grandma's booster chair!"

I gave him a dirty look, but it didn't seem to bother him.

One day at noon my daughter, Yoni and I decided to see a 3-d movie and we chose one with the intriguing title "It's raining meatballs." Sharon and I enjoyed the experience tremendously, but sunshine sat there with a solemn face. He finally said: "Sorry guys, but I'm kind of mature for this kind of thing!"

Lucca