Happy New Year

Yesterday at sundown marked the start of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Ever since I can remember my entire familywould congregate at my cousin's house in Westfield, New Jersey - grandparents, aunts, uncles, girlfriends, boyfriends, neighbors - come one come all, the more the merrier. The moment I walked through the door the smell of brisket and matzah ball soup warmed my soul. The magnificent table was filled with Jewish delicacies: lox and cream cheese, chopped liver, Manischewitz wine, gefilte fish, kugel, just to name a few. My aunt always outdid herself when it came to feeding our family.

Sitting down at the dinner table was the first time many of our family members had seen each other in months and months, and boy did it show. There was anything and everything to talk about from school to friends to work, and always that heated (and dreaded) conversation about politics. Then came time for the prayers, and each person would take a turn reading both the Hebrew prayer and English transliteration. It was always gratifying to see the proud look on my father’s face knowing I had transformed from a little girl staring blindly at the Hebrew alphabet to effortlessly reciting prayers and reading passages.

Growing up, Rosh Hashanah and all of the Jewish holidays were a common thread that linked my entire family together. Rosh Hashanah in particular is one of the more uplifting Jewish holidays that wishes us a sweet new year, symbolized by the dipping of apples into honey. Relatives from all different walks of life would fly in from across the country to be together on this special night. As we got older, one by one, the dinner table became smaller. A cousin would graduate, an aunt would move away, a grandparent would pass on. My sister Madeline, the youngest of all the cousins, is now a freshman at Syracuse University. She was the last one of us to sit at the dinner table. As I spoke to my parents on the phone this morning, I could tell in their voice that Rosh Hashanah was not the same as it used to be without all of us there to share in the festivities. Having what was once such a big part of my life, now become a part of my past, pulls at my heartstrings. It is a grave reality that I am getting older, but also a hopeful promise that in the not so far future I will be sitting around the dinner table once again celebrating the Jewish holidays with a family of my own enjoying good food, good friends, good family and good memories.