Posts Tagged ‘Haroset recipe’

All Things Jewish

Tuesday, March 26th, 2013

duschinsky clan

As a half-and-halfer who leaned too much to the gentile side, I might have secretly liked one Jewish holiday — Passover.  To be honest, it’s the only one I knew.  Barely.  “We’re going to Seder dinner at Celie’s,” my dad would announce each year.   Celie was my dad’s younger sister who treated him like the baby of the family.  My dad, known as Duke, and stricken with polio as a child, walked his whole life with a brace & cane.  It was Celie, till she died, who hand made for him the flesh-colored, stretchy compression socks that improved his circulation.  Chappy, my aunt Celie’s husband — okay, my uncle — would conduct a pretty serious, religious event.  He was sanctimonious, no-nonsense, and an easy foil for my fun-loving dad.  I always came starved, but ate very little.

This was a rowdy, boisterous group — a ton of aunts, uncles and cousins that all knew each other well and lived in the VALLEY.  They seemed to include my brother in their group.  Me, not so much.  So, I clung to my dad for comfort, laughing at and enjoying everything he said, hanging on like it was his last day on earth.  That’s how it was with us all my life.  He was an older dad.  Magical.  My hero.  And out there in the Valley I was often petrified.  I secretly longed for that other soon-to-be-celebrated holiday, Easter — with the gentiles. (more…)

Fear of Bees

Friday, May 13th, 2011

It’s a lifelong fear. If a therapist were to ask what is my level of discomfort when near a bee, I might have to say a hundred, or a gazillion- whatever the highest level might be.

It started when I was less then two, could have even been one and totally pre-verbal. But, I do remember being a witness to the moment. If not the exact moment, then the repurcussions. I was living with my mom and dad in this very glamorous place called the Garden of Allah. It was famous for housing the most intellectual, interesting avant -garde people of the day. People like F. Scott Fitzgerald, Dorothy Parker and Greta Garbo. It was a hotel with bungalows that some people took permanent residence in. The social center was the pool. The pool where my mother got stung on her back as she swam in it. It’s sort of contradictory that what I love so much, pools….is where the danger often lies.

Bees. I have been known to stay under the water for unsafe periods of time when I see a bee flying overhead. I even switched my swimming time to night to avoid the stress. (more…)