You Don't Need To Get High To Attend A Bat Mitzvah

I’m sure I have attended a Bat/Bar Mitzvah since 1981. But I can’t remember. I teach at an Orthodox school and turn down invitations because I’d have 30 a year to attend, but this was outside school. I barely knew the girl and figured it would be boring as hell and I should eat a (medical marijuana approved) pot brownie so I’d find everything really funny and enjoy the food 100% more, but I did not imbibe and turned up sleepy and sober. It started at 10am. What????

I missed a lot of the religious part but saw enough to really get how close this congregation was. And I spent most of the service and party with a writer’s eye and a nostalgic heart, taking in everything. When I remember my Bat Mitzvah (and my parents threw some lame Bar/Bat mitzvahs) my strongest memories are the following:

• I was excited to have all the attention
• Because I was so short the family joke was I was the “hole in the wall” in family photos
•My mother never got around to making an album for me
• I wrote my own speech and it seemed to be funny
• My lame parents scheduled it on Halloween so a few kids didn’t come. &^&^%%$!!!
• All the boys took off their shoes and spent the whole time sliding around the floor, much to the girls’ dismay.

Yesterday it was this huge, beautiful ceremony. The girls looked older than I think we ever did. The boys hung out with them. In fact the Bat Mitzvah girl had a boyfriend. At thirteen. I must say she was very pretty and seemed to skip preteen awkwardness. And what’s even weirder – she loved her Temple, her religion and her parents. I barely knew this girl but I was riveted to the slide show of a happy family and loving sisters, and the candle lighting ceremony and how she celebrated all of these people and groups in her life. This 13 year-old really seemed to appreciate who she was, who she loved and how much they had contributed to her.

I thought back to my candle lighting ceremony or my brother’s – I couldn’t remember – and don’t remember honoring those people the way she did. This girl wrote a tribute on the cards. And the father-daughter dance? It brought back a rush of heart-felt memories of my father and I dancing at my cousin’s wedding. That guy might be crazy, but I loved to dance with him. No matter how many times I might have found my parents embarrassing, dancing with my father was wonderful each and every time. He made this fun face of mock-concentration, a heap of fun and just a dash of rogue to top it off.

Between being touched to learn more about this girl than the few times I’d seen her at religious events, seeing the love and honor she gave to family, friends and her Temple, remembering Bat Mitzvahs circa the ‘80’s, and always loving a good buffet – I didn’t need that (medical marijuana approved) pot cake at all. I had to struggle with my ever-crappy feelings about aging, but I practiced letting it go over and over again. The Mohawked DJ (that was pretty 80’s) played music I actually knew and my favorite moment (as you can guess) was when he let the kids eat and then said: “Adults, you’re going to have to play a game called Who Wants To Eat First?” I was ready for a lame game until he announced, “Name this TV theme song and your table eats first.”

I think I lobbed over two tables and waved my hand before he spoke. And of course, I missed the first one. I’d never been a fan of the A-Team but thankfully my fellow “Ocelot” (that was the name of our table) guessed it and it was time to fill up our plates. I didn’t know a lot of people there but for one second we were all connected as hands flew from all the other tables – the Tigers, Panthers, etc. screaming, “Gilligan’s Island!” “I Dream Of Genie!” I was in heaven. As I’ve always believed, TV, not George W Bush, is the great uniter. I watched those Gazelles and Sloths pile their plates, I guessed along with the TV themes, eating my buffet early thanks to Mr. T’s great TV run and fellow Ocelot’s guess and yes, I forgot about being an adult for one minute as I descended upon that ice cream bar.

I was touched, moved, inspired, happy, full, cold (from the ice cream) and really impressed with this young lady. And my fellow TV viewers. I’d never have thought all that when I was first told I’d have to attend this at 10 am (means wake up at 8am on my day off) and all the way down was told “What a good sport you are.” It reminded me of this lovely Buddhist saying:

“Half the things you hope for don’t happen. Half the things you fear don’t happen. So just let things happen.” It reminds me to just show up, without expectations, and see what Life has planned for me.

So happy Bat Mitzvah, Gabrielle. You don’t really know me but you have made an impact on my life.