All I Wanted Was A Party.
“In search of my mother’s garden, I found my own.” -Alice Walker
All I wanted was a party. I sat behind the wooden desk slightly swiveling left and right in the squeaky office chair, fiddling with the Star of David that hung on a silver chain wrapped around my neck. Rabbi Ron set down a large stack of papers and a binder in front of me. I picked up the first sheet of paper in the stack and read the first line “what does a bat mitzvah mean to you?” nothing came to mind. All I wanted was a party.
I bit my tongue and smiled. My mother and my Bubby — Yiddish word for Grandmother — sat on either side of me eagerly waiting for just about any sort of reaction. I’m pretty sure an eyebrow twitch would have set them off into a screaming boohoo of how excited and proud they were of their soon-to-be Jewish woman, but there was no reaction to be had — all I wanted was a party.
I looked up at the Rabbi as he sat down across from us. He asked me a blur of important questions about my “spirituality” and told me about my Haftarah Portion consisting of Hebrew words that I could read fluently, but never actually knew the meaning of. All the while I was only thinking about the wonderful meal I would be consuming shortly after this treacherously boring meeting. I could hear the sizzle of the Latkes cooking and smell the cheesy delight of the Kugel[1] baking in the oven. All I wanted was a party.
Once I stopped drooling, my mind wandered off into a place it had many times before. I couldn’t help but wonder why I, of all the women in my family, was getting Bat Mitzvah’d. My mother never did because my Bubby never did, and neither did my Big Bubby.
To me Judaism meant a big nose, a lot of money jokes, no santa, a little bit of Hebrew and receiving a lot of money—which wasn’t a joking matter. To my mother, it mostly meant the same thing with the addition of a forced Hebrew education and the subtraction of a Bat Mitzvah. To my Bubby, Judaism was ingrained in her way of life, it was her community, it was her daily habits, it was forced, but it was meaningful and true in her heart. Judaism was her identity, so what was I even doing here?
Rabbi Ron finally ended his shpiel[2] on the importance of a Bat Mitzvah and what “becoming a jewish woman” entailed. I stood up and quickly hugged him first so I could silently stare at my phone and wait until the motherly kvelling[3] finally subsided.
On the way home my Bubby turned around from the passenger seat to look at me. I smiled and waited for what she was about to say, expecting some sort of exclamation of how excited she was for me, but there was only a small tear streaming down her face. I wiped it from her eye as if to ask her what was wrong and she shook her head into my hand. My mother gently patted her back and looked at her with empathy. There was so much being said but the car was in complete silence. All my sweet grandmother could manage was “your Big Bubby and Papa would be so proud” before the leaky gates of her eyes became flooded with a sea of anguish and longing.
The only memories I had of my Big Bubby Florence and Big Papa Jules were the ones I had heard in stories from my Bubby. I knew they were not her biological parents— they were my Papa Arnie’s. Bubby always told me she began to see them as her own parents after the death of her father Irving and after her “schmuck” mother, Mary, threw her out of the house at 17. The tales of my great grandparents’ lives seemed almost magical to me. I remember whenever she tucked me in, I would beg to hear more of the same story about them. She would tell me how Big Papa Jules was taken at his mother Jennie’s side, 4500 miles across Europe to America in seeking refuge from the vicious pogroms that were persecuting the Jews in their hometown Riga, Russia. She would tell me that they came to meet my Big-Big Papa Max — my great, great grandfather — who came a few years earlier to find work. Finally in 1911 after 6 years, Jules’ father came up with enough funds as a Junk Dealer to pay for his wife and young child’s voyage to The Land of Opportunity. Big Papa Jules was only 12 when he began his climb to the top. He began trimming windows in a Department Store on Tremont Street in Boston. Before he knew it, he was married to the love of his life and managing his brother’s boutique on Newbury Street. It was like nothing Bubby had ever seen before, “like a modern day Tory Burch” she would say. Her eyes would sparkle with joy whenever she spoke of them. “Bubby and Papa were the parents I never had” she would say. Through constantly hearing these tales I began love them just as she had, even though I had never gotten to meet them.
During that car ride home, I began to understand what the excitement was. I witnessed the pride my Bubby had for our Jewish roots my entire life, and I wanted to share it. More than anything I wanted to share it— but regrettably, all I wanted was a party.
Once my Bubby turned her attention to my mother’s consoling in the driver’s seat, I reached up and grabbed the Star of David around my neck. My Bubby had passed it down to me on my 12th birthday. I thought for a moment about the four generations this necklace had traveled through. From persecution in Russia to rebuilding their identity in America and finally into my hands, that necklace laid in that exact spot between their collarbones and bosoms as it did on me. That necklace witnessed the struggle, the strife, the exile, the joy, the success, and the journey of each woman in my family. That necklace witnessed the heart of the Saitow women in their own personal pursuit of identity. There it was after four generations twisting around my fingers — boy did that Star of David necklace have a lot coming for it.
I invite you to join me in the pursuit of my own personal and religious identity. I have composed a detailed journey into the past in order to provide a glimpse of where I come from, but also an understanding of who I am today as a product of culture, family dynamics, and societal influences. My Bubby, Marcia Saitow, has been through it all. I plan to ask her what she remembers about her childhood and pursuit of her own identity and what she remembers from those before her.
Interview Questions
To find out about her childhood:
What do you remember about your house and neighborhood?
What was your favorite childhood memory?
What ceremonies or rituals did you remember the most about your childhood?
Did you play sports or have hobbies?
What was school like?
Were you surrounded mostly by Jewish people?
Did your parents ever tell you stories? If so, what was your favorite one?
What was the overall tone and subject of your household? Your relationship like with your parents?
What role did Judaism play in your childhood?
What was your favorite part of growing up?
What was your favorite tradition or celebration as a child?
What were holidays like for you?
What was your favorite meal?
Why did you not bat mitzvah? What were they like when you went to them?
Was there anything you inherited as a child from older generations that was special to you?
Were finances a struggle for your parents?
To find out about her Grandparents/Adulthood/etc.
Was marriage ever an option?
Describe the biggest tragedy you most vividly remember experiencing in your lifetime?
What was your expected role as a jewish woman? In the home? Financially? Religiously?
What do you remember most about big bubbi and papa?
Tell me what you know about their immigration/experience in Russia and assimilating into the US?
What did you do differently in raising Jodi and your other children?
How did Judaism play a role in your life as you grew older? Did it change?
What historical events do you remember most?
What was “trendy” or fashionable in your teen years/adulthood?
What traditions did you carry with you in starting a family of your own?
What was your wedding like?
Sources
Rambo, Lewis R. Understanding religious conversion. Yale University Press, 1993.
Hayes, Christine Elizabeth. Gentile impurities and Jewish identities: intermarriage and conversion from the Bible to the Talmud. Oxford University Press, 2002.
Goldstein, Sidney, and Calvin Goldscheider. “Jewish Americans. Three Generations in a Jewish Community.” (1968).
Sorin, Gerald. “The prophetic minority: American Jewish immigrant radicals, 1880–1920.” (1985).
Joselit, Jenna Weissman. “The wonders of America: reinventing Jewish culture 1880–1950.” (2002).
