22•MONTH CERTIFICATE OF DEPOSIT

Seder Memories
Are Fond Memories

OZZIE NOGG SPEICAL TO THE JEWISH NEWS

oon, Jews everywhere will dowsills and then — by the light
celebrate the Passover of a candle — we led our parents
seder, a ceremony often de- to the leaven. Solemnly, using a
scribed as the most uni- feather, Poppa swept the crumbs
versally observed of all Jewish into a wooden spoon. Then moth-
ceremonies. No matter what our er wrapped everything up in a
level of "religiousity" during the cloth and put the whole bundle
rest of the year, the seder, in the outside for the night.
In the morning, with much cer-
words of the poet, Heinrich
Heine, " .11111s and soothes. Even emony and many benedictions,
Jews who long since turned from we burned the chometz to ashes.
their faith... are touched when Poppa told us that when the
the well-remembered chants chometz went up in smoke, so did
our evil inclination. I didn't un-
reach their ears."
Why? Perhaps it's because the derstand what he meant, at the
Passover story is filled with so time. But I remember his words.
In my childhood, setting the
much of our collective history.
The Exodus from Egypt marks seder table was a serious busi-
the birth of the Jewish nation, af- ness. Plates had to be strategi-
ter all. It symbolizes freedom. It cally arranged on the lace cloth
brought us to Sinai, the Torah so as to cover up the wine stains
from past seders. A chipped gob-
and our Covenant with God.
But Pesach and the seders let? Give it to a family member
hook into my soul and psyche be- and not a guest! My special seder
cause of personal history. The responsibility was to make the
seder speaks to the child in me. salt water for the eggs, and the
The child who remembers Pesach significance of this assignment
as the most secure and best of was not lost on me. I measured
family times.
and mixed and trembled. And
Every year, right after Purim, when Mother gave the water her
my grandmother would paint her taste-test, she always, always
said it was perfect. For me, at
pantry. Every single year.
Eventually, the layers of white that moment, everything was
paint got so thick that the cup- perfect.
The seders of my youth were
board doors wouldn't close all the
way. And the paint never quite combinations of order and bed-
dried. If you pressed your finger- lam. Poppa recited ev-er-y single
nail into it — months later, at word. We wiggled and squirmed.
Rosh Hashanah, say— you could When I played "Rebecca" and car-
still make a small, curved im- ried my bowl and pitcher around
pression. It was faint, but you the table so the men could wash
could see it. This never failed to their hands, I felt absolutely in-
dispensable. And then, when
fill me with wonder.
Into that magical pantry went everyone said, "This salt water is
the Pesach dishes — clear and perfect," some tiny, undiscovered
green and fragile. My grand- bit of chometz in me swelled with
mother let me help her stack pride.
Who could really describe the
them on the shelves. I was little,
but she trusted me with her trea- food? The first taste of matzah.
sures. Things like that you don't Poppa's five-alarm-grated-by-
hand-with-some-of-his-knuckle-
forget.
I remember my mother and in-it chrain! The kneidlach big as
grandmother cleaning the house tennis balls. The potato kugel.
before Pesach. They schlepped The strawberry ices topping a
pots and pans down to the base- cake that rose a foot tall from its
ment and schlepped other pots silver platter. I pitied the hungry,
and pans up from the basement. wandering Hebrews who had to
They scoured every surface. They settle for manna from heaven.
dumped chometz crumbs from
Then we sang the Hallel. My
drawers, shook them from pock- spoiled cousin, Benji — as usual
ets and beat them out of rugs. — found the afikomen. A few new
And all the time, they laughed. stains were on the lace cloth. And
While polishing silver. While finally, "Chad Gadya" and the
ironing curtains. To me, prepar- verse about the angel of Death.
ing for Pesach looked like forced Oh, how those words terrified me!
labor in a house of bondage. But But curled half asleep on my
to my mother and grandmother, grandmother's lap — wrapped
tight in her arms — I sang brave-
it was only joy.
I also remember searching for ly and then the Seder was over.
chometz on the night before
So. That was then and this, as
seder. In our shadowy, almost- they say, is now. I'm grown-up,
dark house, my brother and I put which means I have to create
small pieces of bread on the win- memories for my children.

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