Hanukkah and Christmas: Light the candles, trim the tree, say the blessing

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When I was a kid, my mother celebrated Hanukkah and my father celebrated Christmas. But then, they never saw eye to eye on anything.

Now, as an adult, I get it. It's so easy to love Christmas in America and so hard to be a minority in America. During my childhood this dichotomy played out over the eight days of Hanukkah.

Day One

Mother and I light the first candle and say the blessing. My sisters come later for gifts — nylon stockings, a copper bracelet, a Pez dispenser. They argue over equity. "Where's Dad?" I ask. "Missing in action, like always," my mother hisses, loud enough to hope he hears from the other room.

Day Two

Day Three

In from the cold, I am old enough to hang up my parka. I open the hall closet, only to come face to face with a pine tree stuffed inside. Over the years, this becomes a sort of holiday tradition. "The tree is there again," I say to mother. "Your father wants a Christmas tree," mother says. "He drags it home. What should I do with it? We're Jewish."

Day Four

Mother and I light the menorah and say the blessing. After, Dad scoops up us kids and takes us on a drive through the snowy neighborhoods of Duluth to see the light displays. He asks me: "Do you want to visit Santa downtown? He's here from the North Pole. Your mother doesn't need to know."

Day Five

Day Six

Dad has wrenched the tree out from the closet. He's planted it in a snowbank by the front door. Mother and I light the candles and say the blessing. After dinner, Dad invites us to throw on our jackets, go outside and toss tinsel onto the tree. This is followed by hot chocolate in the kitchen, stirred with candy canes he bought on his way home from work.

Day Seven

I cherish lighting the candles with mother because we have so few happy times together. I can count them: I help her sprinkle clothes when she irons. I put stamps on envelopes when she pays the bills. We light the Hanukkah candles together. "What does your father know, anyway," she confides. "Being Christian is not all fun and games. Jesus died on the cross, after all. They have their sorrows, too."

Day Eight

And me? I try to support my wife as she celebrates Christmas. I still light the Hanukkah candles, as I have now some 60 years.

When I say the blessing, I hear my mother's voice. I know off in the darkness God waits patiently for my soul.