by Melissa Steinberg Brodsky
Chanukkah. Oh, Chanukkah.
It meant lighting a Menorah. Saying the holiday blessings. Gathering around a table and playing the dreidel game with gelt, or aluminum wrapped chocolate coins, potato latkes making the house smell of oil, tearing of wrapping paper to quickly get to the point of the holiday, the presents. Happy childhood memories.
Traditions.
Growing up, it was the one holiday my sister and I lived for, besides Halloween of course. Because during Chanukah, we’d finally get some of the things we wanted that we had been drooling after, thanks to television commercials which were always out in full force, even then.
Honestly? The prayers said while lighting candles on the Menorah were absent-minded-ly recited. All we would be thinking about was which present from our lists would we be getting tonight? If. Our Mother actually followed our lists, of course.
My sister and I always had a huge list of wants and must haves. Because we were never, ever, over-indulged. We had to either earn what we wanted by receiving good marks in school or we would have to wait until the eight nights of Chanukkah.
We weren’t spoiled. So we actually appreciated the things we got. We cherished them. We looked forward to them. We used them.
Kids these days. And by that, I mean, my kids.
They could care less about Chanukah. Admittedly, that is my fault. Because my children are spoiled. They get shoes, more than once a year. Drawers and under beds, overflowing with clothes and other (un)necessary objects which threaten to overtake our living space.
Traditions long gone. In fact, we haven’t been able to find our Menorah since we moved into our house, almost 6 years ago. Sadly, it hasn’t been replaced by anything other than the aluminum foil version that the local Orthodox Rabbi delivers to the neighborhood houses.
My children, when asked to make a Chanukah list, get stuck. They don’t want or need. A single thing.
They asked for money this year.
So they could have spare change.
They want spare change and gift cards to iTunes. They don’t mind not lighting the Menorah. They do know the blessings though. They could care LESS about potato latkes with apple sauce. They don’t beg to go to or to have Chanukah parties. Dreidels have been replaces by computers and iPods.
Traditions.
Seems they’ve taken on a new identity. One that I don’t recognize. But I have enabled.
Maybe this year, we will start a new tradition in our family. We’ll celebrate Chanukah like we used to, back in the olden days.
Even if for only one night. After all, there are eight nights!
Melissa Steinberg Brodsky is a wearer of many hats. Some fit. Some she has to force her head into. And some fall off. She is a social media addict who can be found constantly on Twitter. She co-owns SmartSavvySocial.com and writes, almost daily, on her blog Rock and Drool about life and how she sees it. She isn’t afraid to tell it like it is. After all, it’s her blog, she’s allowed.