Preparation for the Big Event: Step 39

My parents were both second generation Americans. Their parents immigrated to the United States from czarist Russia driven out by the pogroms much the same as the situation portrayed in the movie, Fiddler on the Roof. Even though they spoke Yiddish in my grandparents’ homes they didn’t share what they viewed as a ghetto language with us. However, Hebrew, the five thousand year old language of the twelve tribes of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, which they never had the opportunity to learn, was not a choice for us. The three of us were enlisted in Hebrew school without a single vote. Although the practice of girls having a bat mitzvah was becoming popular at the time we were growing up my parents chose to skip over the oldest, my sister, and sink their resources into mine and my brother’s bar mitzvahs. As noted previously, starting at around age 8 a Jewish child is sent to an additional school to be immersed in this ancient language. For most of these children the sacrifice of several hours a couple of times a week and a few more hours on the weekend is balanced by the promise of becoming a bar or bat mitzvah. During the first four years it was a chance to read phonetically a lot of words that held little or no meaning. The translation was often on the adjoining page or at the back of the book. Of course we all learned to count, echaud, shnaim, shloshau, and the important words like sheket bivakishau or yeled tipaish, which are please be quiet and foolish boy, respectively. In the fifth year the excitement rose when I achieved the status of bar mitzvah preparation class. Mr. Pais gave me a phonograph record with my maftir, the portion of the torah I would learn to recite. We would meet an extra hour twice a week for the entire year. Most nights we would go over and over the same sentence. First I would sing. Then, he would stop and correct me. Mr. Pais was a wonderful man with warm compassionate eyes, endless patience, suits twenty years out of fashion, and the worst halitosis. Since I was at that age where I carried my breath spray with me everywhere I went I thought of offering it to him, but then thought better of it. Actually, though there is a distinctive melody, the rendering of the maftir as with other portions of the torah and prayers is more chant than song. While mastery of these sacraments was pivotal to my achieving this rite of passage, it was not my greatest concern for the impending transformational event. Fortunately, my parents, as well as most of my friends parents realized this and made accommodations. Alan Leeb and his wife provided ballroom dance lessons. Yes, the same Alan Leeb with the Buddy Holly glasses that spun records at Ron’s bar mitzvah. We met in the basement recreation rooms of the different members of the class and attempted to move smoothly through the fox trot, cha-cha, jitterbug, bossa nova, and twist without stepping on our partner’s feet. In these intimate settings the smell of Binaca was usually exceeded only by the smell of Aquanet. Your comments and criticisms are welcome.