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All I Really Need To Know, I Learned Growing Up Jewish

By Mark Miller

This insightful book got me thinking. In this age of specialization, shouldn't there be a Jewish version of these life lessons? Wouldn't it be wonderful to have an equally insightful book tailor-made for those of us who were and are privileged to grow up in a Jewish household - the few, the proud, the chosen? The wait is over. Attention, publishers: the hot Jewish book of the year is here! Don't make me beg. I'm calling it "All I Really Need To Know I Learned Growing Up Jewish." If you publish it, you can call it "Bar Mitzvah Boogaloo," for all I care. As long as the check clears. But I can see it in your eyes-you want excerpts. Here you go. As my mother, who inspired this book, would say as she set a plate of broiled liver and onions in front of my nauseated face, "Enjoy!"

Can't finish your matzoh brei? Better eat it all; children are starving in China. I'd offer to send the remainder of my matzoh brei to the starving Chinese children. My mother responded that that's not funny. I agreed with her; I was serious. It wasn't hard to envision Federal Express planes carrying tons of ungrateful Jewish children's leftover matzoh brei to Shanghai. Perhaps I could even include a note: "Dear Chun Lee, please enjoy my leftover matzoh brei, courtesy of my mother, Shirley, who assures me that you will appreciate it far more than some spoiled rotten Jewish children who have no idea how good they have it and would thank their lucky stars they're living in America if they spent even one day in some Third World country where you couldn't even find a box of matzoh if your life depended on it. You might want to heat it up a little first. And by the way, next month you can look forward to some nice chopped liver, made from unappreciated liver and onions."

Do you want to be responsible for the wholesale destruction of the Jewish people? Is that what you want? Would that make you happy? Because it would kill your father and me. What, there aren't enough smart, good-looking, responsible, family-oriented Jewish girls in your synagogue youth group? A shiksa will only want you for your money. And she'll cheat on you, too. Plus, they have no taste. Do you know they eat Wonder Bread with mayonnaise and bologna? Is that the diet you want to have? Is that the diet you want your children to have? And how will you raise your kids? They'll have no identity. The Jews will die out, as a result of your stubborn refusal to date a nice Jewish girl. Is that what you want - to bring about the end of your people? Very smart. What did I do to deserve this? Haven't I always given you everything you wanted? Let it be on your head. And sit up straight. You want to have back problems when you get older?

Why do we keep plastic covers on the couch and chairs? Because they're for company only, not for daily use. If you have to sit during non-company times, choose another couch or chair. Why? Oh, I don't know - maybe it's because we don't want dog and grape jelly stains all over our fine furniture for our guests, after your father has worked his fingers to the bone earning the money so we'll have a nice home, not that you've noticed. Maybe we don't want springs and stuffing to be poking through. Maybe we'd like to have at least one room in this house that doesn't look like Arnold Schwarzenegger had a riot in it. Maybe we'd like to have one piece of furniture that our pets and kids don't cause to disintegrate. If that makes us mean or weird or unfair, so be it. Now, get off the couch. And go wash up. I made matzoh brei.

Do you realize that you are thirteen years old and have wasted the entire day playing that idiotic video game? Do you know that by the time your Uncle Arthur was nine, he was already supporting his family with two jobs, plus going to school and taking care of three sick birds and his paraplegic cousin Rivka. Don't be smart with me, young man. Your asthmatic brother Steven, bless his heart, never opens his mouth to his parents; he knows respect; you should take a lesson. If your Grandpa Morris was alive to see how you behave, it would kill him. Now there's a man who knew the meaning of suffering and sacrifice. I never told you this, but he once fell off a ladder, fractured his hip, and still finished out the work week because he knew his family wouldn't eat if he didn't bring home a paycheck. Are you listening to me?

I don't want you eating sushi; that's goyishe food. It is not just like eating lox; lox is smoked. If you insist on bringing sushi home, at least cook the fish first. You have no idea what kinds of tapeworms and parasites you could be letting yourself in for. Next thing you know, you'll be trying to go swimming without waiting half an hour after eating. Your great-uncle Mort almost drowned that way. And if you're at the beach, be sure to wear plenty of sunblock plus a t-shirt-and it wouldn't kill you to sit under a beach umbrella, with sunglasses and a hat. Sex? Don't even get me started on sex. There's AIDS, social diseases, who knows what kind of jungle rot that could give you? Your uncle Phil nearly had to have his shmeckle amputated after dating some infected shicksa. No, I don't mind if you go to the party. Just don't drink anything. They spike the punch, you know. Then I'll get a call that you've wrapped the Camry around a tree. And don't have any of the food, either. You never know. Okay, sweetheart. Goodbye. I love you. Have fun. Be home by ten.

Mark Miller is a former stand-up comic and current Los Angeles-based comedy writer, who has written and produced TV sit-coms, been a humor columnist for the Los Angeles Times Syndicate, and has produced a weekly comedic relationships feature for America Online.

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from the May 2000 Passover Edition of the Jewish Magazine

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