Maybe it was because Bob and I were actually making latkes and had just lit the holiday candles — but we felt a strong spiritual presence in our kitchen last night. No, the wind wasn’t rustling up the curtains. And I certainly did not hear any howling. Nor did I experience the type of special effects so aptly portrayed in Ghostbusters. No, nothing as blatant and tacky as all that. It was more of a feeling, an essence. What was this Chanukah specter-vision? A far cry from the apparitions visited upon Ebeneezer Scrooge — this spirit was my mother!
Now, please bear in mind that I am not normally given to hallucination, nor subject to auditory phenomena. There she was — just behind my elbow, looking much the same as she always did. She was still wearing her strawberry blonde hair teased (today they would call it added volume), and she looked smart, sporting her good posture along with her pantsuit.
Mom had a strong code of ethics, and used to always pride herself on “telling it like it is.” But, about her past, she told very little. What a splendid opportunity for her to return and disclose ancestral secrets! Like the story of Aunt Eleanor And The Chocolate Pudding...
...It seems that my Grandma Sarah was rightly renowned for her chocolate pudding. Believe me, this was a pudding to die for. One fine day she made a batch of the stuff and my Aunt (who was much the younger sister), positively had to have some. So, she asked her mother.
“NO!”, said Grandma Sarah in no uncertain terms.
The case was closed. Grandma Sarah turned and went upstairs, and closed the door, as well. “Do...Re...Mi...Fa...” the sound of her scales filtered through the flat. Eleanor seized the opportunity, and the handle of the icebox. The six puddings sat thickening, each in their little cups. She took one and wolfed it down.
Dinner that night was a pleasant affair — at least until it came time for dessert. When Grandma Sarah was ready to serve her prize pudding, she frowned. There were only five puddings! She became livid! She looked at Sammy first, then my mother, and finally poor Eleanor.
“You ate the pudding, after I told you no!”, yelled Sarah. “I didn’t eat it”, protested Eleanor, “Anne did” (meaning my mother).
Of course, my mother stoutly denied any knowledge of the deed, having worked all day.
“We will get to the bottom of this!” exclaimed Sarah.
And get to the bottom, she did. A telltale cup with chocolate remains was found tossed underneath Eleanor’s bed. Eleanor was roundly punished — more for lying and shifting the blame to my mom than for anything else. The fun part of it all is that to this day, Aunt Eleanor claims that the entire tale was total fabrication. And, to this day, Aunt Eleanor hates to admit she is wrong...
Which brings me back to the spirit of Chanukah...Did this apparition share the joys of Chanukahs past or present? Did she impart a maternal message about the meaning of holidays and familial duty?
No, all she said, matter-of-factly, was, “That’s nice.”
It was.