Last month JD and I spent a weekend with family. No surprise there really, except it was MY family! Whoa, I’ll bet some of you didn’t even know Janey had family did you? You know…since I rant so much about JD’s family? Right? Okay, okay don’t all answer at once. It was rhetorical after all.
So Janey had the closest thing to a real vacation in a good long time, including four days off work and a road trip (cue the crowd going wild)! What? I got a little excited, so sue me. Well, I was excited till my butt went numb about two hours into the drive. Makes me wish I could sleep in the car. At least then I’d be oblivious till I woke up.
For three nights and four days I got to hang with my brothers and one of their significant others at a cabin we rented in Cheney. We did old people stuff like soaking in the hot tub, playing cards and hitting the buffets. And we talked. And talked and talked and talked.
Because of the age differences we could have been only children for the few memories we share. Being the oldest I have more memories of when we were all together but after I left home they had entire lives I wasn’t a part of. It was enlightening to say the least. I had no idea they’d both spent some time in jail or that they’d battled addiction like our mother, though that isn’t surprising in itself.
Naturally one topic that came up was dear old Mom and we were all agreed that our mother was a slut. I know that sounds harsh but it was true. She had issues of her own that probably sent her looking for comfort and security in the arms of Mr. Right Now. Many many Mr. Right Nows. Each one of us siblings has a different paternal unit. That’s a total of four (our baby sister couldn’t join us). Then there were at least three more who she did not make a baby with, that we know of anyway.
But that was old news mostly and we moved on. The tidbit that I most enjoyed learning was some genealogy. Our great grandmother (or great great, I never did get that straight) emigrated to the US from Germany via an ocean cruise during the second world war. She was Jewish.
Now you have to understand the background here – none of my family was all that religious except my grandmother, who was a practicing Christian till the day she died. My uncle, her youngest child eventually followed in her footsteps, as did I when I was younger. No one ever talked about or for that matter thought it important enough to even mention that we had Jewish roots.
Judaism isn’t only about religion as many of you may know. Based on my limited experience, I understand it’s also about heritage and history. It’s a race like Caucasian or Asian or African. And it passes down not from father to son, but from mother to daughter. So because our great (great?) grandmother was Jewish our grandmother and mother were Jewish. Which means I am Jewish! Wow!
Yeah, not much of a skeleton I know. But imagine my pleasure in sharing with my in-laws that JD didn’t marry a shiksa after all!