Yesterday the postamn left something I hadn't seen in my mailbox for quite a few
years: a Bat-Mitzvah invitation. Come to think of it, since I'm not close to my
cousins, don't have Jewish friends with 13-year-old daughters, and my babysittees
were male (and hence would have had bar mitzvot instead of bat) I don't think I've
gotten one of those since I was 13 or 14 and getting them from my
peers.
So imagine how much more surreal thigns got when I realized
this invitation was from me. It was for my mom's bat mitzvah, of course
(which already mandates a certain level of surrealness). Normal bat mitzvah
invitations (that is, those for 12 or 13 year old girls) like traditional wedding
invitations, are sent from the parents: "Mr and Mrs So-and-So proudly request your
presence as we wtach our daughter assume the mantle of Jewish womanhood..." or
some such. Apparently Mom felt odd sending out invitations in her own name, so
these are officially from Dad, me, and the brother. So now I'm inviting all sorts
of people I don't know or have met only briefly (though I do get to hear about all
of their operations and grandchildren) to watch my mother become a woman.
Also, she'll be dressed like a man, in some respects; apparently
things have changed since I went to these affairs regularly, and now Mom will be
wearing a kippah (yarmulka / skullcap) and tallit (prayer shawl). Presumably if
this were a weekday service she'd also wear tefillin (phylacteries) which are
small boxes held on to the head and the arm with long leather straps. They look a
little odd even on old men who have worn them all their lives.
Given
that premise, maybe I should find a watch to wear that looks like it's melting.
Dali wasn't Jewish, was he?