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Mom Shelley Nadiv of Huntington Woods:
Elevator dances and tears for onions.

Elizabeth Applebaum
AppleTree Editor
urim is a time when fami-
lies tend to go a IHe
crazy, and mine was no
exception.
I was still in my teens — those
tender, formative years when

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appearances are so very impor-
tant — when my mother sudden-
ly decided that all of us, not just
my young brother and sister,
should dress up for Purim.
"It will be fun!" she said.
Maybe that's so in a communi-
ty
Detroit, where there are

Not to say that our mom is weird because she is
a great mom, but when it comes to making turkey
she can get a little strange. For example, when I
was young, she had me convinced that all turkeys
are born with those little red things that pop up
when they are done; imagine that, taking advan-
tage of my youthful gullibility. And most times when
she makes turkey she will put her hand inside the
turkey and make it talk. Very entertaining.
Then when her eyes would tear up from chop-
ping the onions, she told me it was because she
felt sod for the poor little onions.
Well, at least her turkeys taste delicious.
Another weird thing about my mom: She loves to
dance, and so she makes up dances for our baby
brother. Before he goes into the bathtub, he does
the 'Naked Dance while she sings. When our fami-
ly is alone in an elevator and the doors close, she
sings the Elevator Dance and we all dance. She is
crazy but lots of fun and we all love her.
— Danniell, Yoni and Ami Nadiv

thousands and thousands of
Jews. But we were in Columbia,
M o., where there were
.000001 Jews and none want-
ed to dress up for Purim.
We dressed up, of course. I
went as Eva Peron. My mother
was Emma Goldman. My father

donned a bird-like mask, a yellow
leotard and a bright red cape, the
color of Hot Tamale candies.
"Who are you?" we asked.
My father, swinging his cape
about the living room,
announced, "I am Captain
Chai."

