A very merry and menschy Chrismukkah
My first experience as a Jewish guy purchasing a Christmas tree had all the ingredients necessary for a Buster Keaton movie. (My now wife) Nicole and I took a short drive from our Brooklyn apartment to a skinny alleyway masquerading as a rural Canadian tree farm.
Although we consider our household Jewish, the presence of a secular Christmas tree was part of Nicole’s upbringing. That said, once she met me, Nicole started squirreling away Stars of David and menorah tree ornaments to dress it up.
Enveloped in the scent of pine needles, I asked questions about flexible branching, needle retention and hydration best practices that I had prepared in advance. I attempted to speak knowingly about all things Fraser, Douglas and Scots pine. We even bought a few bottles of Sprite to add to the water, which I was told would get the hydration going.
After homing in on a Fraser fir, my final task was to simply tie the tree on top of our car. I was pretty impressed with my inaugural twine-tying job. This whole Christmas tree thing was turning out to be a piece of Bûche de Noël.
Moments later, I slammed the brakes on our car, leapt out of the driver’s seat and began chasing after our Christmas tree, which was rolling down the street like an urban tumbleweed. I tripped a few times while rescuing the tree from the oncoming traffic and (a bit proudly) walked the rest of the way with the tree supported on my shoulder. In conclusion: Jewish folk are not the most qualified to properly secure a tree for travel.
We did a bourbon and Scotch tasting to celebrate our success setting up the tree. After all, we had to decide which would be the best booze to offer Santa when he comes down our fire escape (N.B.: Mr. Claus prefers Oban).
During the next few days, we started calling the tree Shlomo. What better way to fuse our traditions than to give it a Jewish name? The name stuck. Our son Jack joined our lives for Shlomo III. Our daughter Alexina was born eight months before Shlomo V.
Right after Thanksgiving, the kids spin dreidels on almost every surface in the house. Our fireplace mantel serves as both the living space for the menorahs as well as where Santa would find his Oban and cookies. The kids won’t tolerate missing multiple viewings of “A Charlie Brown Christmas” and “A Rugrats Chanukah.” Nearby, the dogs savored their chew toys shaped as dreidels, elves and latkes.
And then there’s Latkefest – our holiday shindig that has become an annual tradition. Our house fills up with friends to engage in savoring my wife’s amazing latkes. In the tradition of the expansion that exemplifies our Jewish home, Nicole has added parsnip and celeriac latkes to the mix. Add a little sour cream, apple sauce or horseradish and you really have a Hanukkah miracle. The spread would make Judah Maccabee proud.
At sundown during Latkefest, we ask our guests to gather around our family menorahs to light the candles. Our goal is to create a meaningful ritual, whether you’re an observant Jew or a friend who has never taken part in the tradition. We ask close friends – Jews and non-Jews alike – to do the honor of lighting the menorahs.
We will soon bring home Shlomo XIII for the 2024 holiday. This year is particularly unique because the first night of Hanukkah falls on Christmas Day. The Chrismukkah coincidence hasn’t taken place in almost two decades. And it’s the first time we’ll be celebrating in our new home in Atlanta, having moved from Maplewood this past spring.
So what’s that 24 hours going to look like in the Levit household?
Christmas Eve will feature a feast, The Vince Guaraldi Trio’s “A Charlie Brown Christmas” spinning on our turntable, and a generous helping of Christmas cracker puns which will give me at least a year of dad jokes.
Christmas morning brings the proverbial gift extravaganza followed by a valiant attempt to keep up with the kids on their new video games.
When sundown arrives, we’ll light candles on three family menorahs and start our annual debate about the easiest way to wash off the wax drippings. Instead of opening a Hanukkah gift on the first night, we’ll donate gifts to a local children’s charity.
And in order to properly observe the December 25 Jewish tradition, we’ll fill our plates with Chinese food takeout and crack open fortune cookies as we watch the candles burn down.
In the background, Shlomo XIII is smiling knowingly, sipping on his cocktail of water and Sprite, and practicing his Hebrew. After all, he’s angling to light the candles next year.
Donny Levit is a writer, theater director, and radio DJ living in Atlanta with his wife, two kids and two dogs.
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