Confessions of a Hypocrite (The Hanukkah Hedge Story)

Hello magical friends!

I Have a Confession to Make

I am a hypocrite.

Ever since my children were small, we've had a strict "No Christmas Tree" policy in our Jewish home. The reasons for this are both complex and simple.

The simple reason: it wasn't worth breaking my father's heart (literally, it might have given him a coronary) over.

The complex reasons: Well, I won't torture you with my rendition of "Tradition" from Fiddler on the Roof.

While I wasn't worried that a Douglas fir might turn my kids away from their roots, I've always been aware it's a slippery slope from a living room that stank like fry oil into the world of secular winter holidayland. It starts with matching pajamas, then the star-shaped tinsel door wreaths. Next thing you know, you're in a Hallmark Holiday Hanukkah special and there's a bowl full of blue and white glass balls on the dining room table and three bearded gnomes holding dreidels on the mantel.

Fine. Maybe we could have all that as consolation for the knuckle injuries sustained while grating potatoes for latkes.

But a Christmas tree? With Christmas ornaments? No way.

The tree was the hard line we would not cross.

The Hill I Was Willing to Die On

My husband, who converted to Judaism, was even more adamant than me. He insisted we present a united front. Much to the grandparents dismay we didn't celebrate Christmas with them either. They got Thanksgiving and we stayed home each December. We didn't want the winter holidays to become a contest of "whose family/religion does it better." 

And yet, every year I heard the same thing. "Why can't we have a tree? It can be a small one. We'll use those blue and white balls from the dining room table to decorate it..."

NOPE. The tree was the hill on which I was willing to die.

My oldest daughter, now 29, got back at me by exclusively dating non-Jewish men from the time she was in high school, on. Every Christmas she'd text me photos of herself decorating someone else's tree, stringing popcorn and holding up handmade ornaments like trophies.

She's got my number. She knows what a craftaholic I am. She knows velvet ribbon, and felted wool balls are my love language. But still, I refused to rise to her bait.

Until the day I didn't.

The Hanukah Hedge

My resolve didn't leave me bit by bit. It fled my system all at once, in the middle of a crowded thrift store aisle, when I laid eyes on what I have now affectionately dubbed "The Hanukah Hedge."

Eight feet tall and only about two feet wide at the bottom, this bright blue tinsel topiary felled me. 

I might not know from trees, but somehow I felt it in my bones. I could not resist how festive it would look covered with twinkling blue lights and dreidels, right next to the bookshelf where I keep all my handmade menorahs.

When I said I wanted to buy it, my husband just stood there, looking at me like I might be having a stroke. 

I texted my daughter that she'd never believe what I was bringing home, and she proceeded to guess: A new car? A tattoo? A vape pen?

Nope, I texted back. Something even more shocking. Try again.

When she saw it, she screamed with delight. And then she nearly punched me in the face.

"NOW? NOW you relent?"

Because, you see, this December my daughter is finally moving out into her own place. Not only was I giving in on an annual argument that had become its own tradition, I was doing so when she wouldn't be there anymore to enjoy "winning." 

To add insult to injury, I also took the wind out of her sails. She was already making plants and really looking forward to lording her non-Christmas tree over us.

I know. It was quite contrary and more than a bit hypocritical of me. But I'm not even a little bit sorry.

Why I Changed My Mind

It occurs to me that my children, now grown and mostly flown, are not going to lose their entire Jewish identity if I bring a Hanukkah hedge home. Whatever control I might have had over that has already been exerted. It also occurs to me that I don't need them to carry the same baggage forward in order to preserve who we are. I've carried that load for a long time. Even after my father passed, my fear of his disapproval over this one particular decor item,  did not. 

I'm ready to set the baggage down now. 

Mostly I want everyone to be happy this holiday season. Including me.

And happiness, in my case, involves a glue gun, and a plan to craf for the holidays.

Speaking of decor and craft projects - here's a peek at the shiny shoes project I mentioned last week, and the WIP gingerbread house which is still not complete, but it's very close!