I was standing outside a “seaside resort” in Long Beach this morning. I don’t believe that it’s actually a resort anymore; just a home for seniors. And so I stood outside in the early morning hours, doing what I do.
A nice old lady came out and proceeded to the red bus stop bench in front, but stopped when she large puddles of heavy morning condensation all over the bench. “I have a rag in my car,” I offered. “I can wipe it down.” She let out this strange, excited yelp. “Ooh. You would do that for me? That’s so nice. Only in Long Beach!” I’d like to think that this sort of thing happens in Queens and Brooklyn, too. I wiped down the bench and we both took a seat.
“My daughter is coming to pick me up,” she explained, excitedly. “It’s a very special Jewish holiday. Rosh Hashanah. Tonight and tomorrow night.” She paused, then continued to explain, “It’s the New Year.”
“Oh, right,” I replied, and smiled. It did seem awfully quiet in Long Beach. Lots of folks must have been visiting family.
As if on cue, a gold minivan pulled up, and its automatic door slid open. The old woman beamed a bright smile, jumped up and rushed to the car, which had stopped in a large puddle. “Bobbie,” she cried out to her daughter, “you’re right in the dirty water. Could you back up?” Silently, the door slid closed, the car backed up five feet and the door opened again.
The woman began to climb into the back seat, and let out that same strange yelp when she saw her grandkids. “You don’t have to yell,” lectured her daughter in very cold, clipped speech. “We can hear you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, still happy and loud. “It’s just seeing them…They’re so much bigger than the pictures!” The grandkids, at least, seemed to share her excitement, and breathlessly told their grandma all about school and friends and games and such.
The daughter, behind the wheel, wouldn’t allow her classic snit to be interrupted by the happy family reunion. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to pick you up at this hour? I’ve started a new job. I have responsibilities. I have to be on time.” Her speech thunders like a mother and pouts like a child. I was embarrassed to overhear it.
“You have a job?,” her mother mousily responded. “I didn’t know.”
“Now you know,” the daughter spat back, icily.
Happy New Year.
sighh. makes me miss my jewish grandma. my mom didnt yell at her.
grandma died two weeks ago. she survived auschwitz and bergen belsen. her hobbies included cleaning, singing and singing to herself while cleaning.
she actually used to polish the leaves of the houseplants with mayonnaise.
clearly i only inherited the singing part of that legacy.
shana tova (including you, you non-believing half-jew 🙂