Shalom. And happy holidays to all!
A tip of the kippah to my mom, Carol, who turns a sprightly 94 today. She’s a great mom, and a great role model, as she goes about her days taking care of others and living the values of tikkun olam and the spirit of Christmas. And of course, she is a faithful reader of the JNR! Happy birthday mom!
I’ve always wondered if she regretted being born on Christmas day, with the risk of that very personal birth date being lost in the hustle and bustle of one of the most celebrated holidays on the planet. Or, did it provide additional meaning to “her” day? Did marrying my Jewish father help return the focus (and all the presents) to just her and the decision on which Chinese restaurant would provide dinner?
While pondering those deep, philosophical questions, I did some quick research on the derivation of the word Carol. Turns out it comes from the French, Carole, which means a circle dance accompanied by singing. The word carol was first used in English in the 1300’s, most notably by none other than one of my favorite British writers, Geoffrey Chaucer, in his Canterbury Tales. If you haven’t read it, I suggest you start with his tale of the Wife of Bath, a tale whose protagonist many consider a proto-feminist character.
Although I consider my mother a strong female, I am pretty sure that in naming my mother Carol, her parents were not thinking about Chaucer’s Wife of Bath, but about the date on the calendar. And while it is clearly a day marked by the birth of the big guy, in our Jewish house it was always a day to celebrate mom. And while we did not stand around in a circle and sing songs about Christmas, we did have a tradition of watching Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol, still one of my favorite versions of the classic Dickens story. And quite often on Christmas morning, my father would open the front door and while we all cringed in the background, he would channel his best Mr. Magoo’s Scrooge by yelling at the boy delivering the Boston Globe, “What’s to-day, my fine fellow?’ And then answering his own question, ‘It’s Christmas Day. I haven’t missed it. An intelligent boy. A remarkable boy. Do you know whether they’ve sold the prize Turkey that was hanging up there — Not the little prize Turkey: the big one.’
Perhaps this year, with the first day of Chanukah falling on the same day as Christmas, there is a special irony in how Jewish songwriters became unofficial composers of Christmas carols. After all, Irving Berlin, a Jew, gifted the world “White Christmas.” And Johnny Marks, also Jewish, wrote “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” And Mel Torme wrote “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire”, and Joan Javits and Phil Springer wrote, “Santa Baby”.
So, as the world settles in for holiday movies, eggnog, and caroling, or lighting candles, spinning dreidels, and piling plates high with latkes, this post honors my Mom on her 94th birthday.
Happy birthday mom!
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