My First Visit To Texas

I mentioned that I’ve been in Houston for a family bar mitzvah. So there’s a lot to discuss.

This was my first time in Texas. I think I need to start off by mentioning the weather. The fact that it’s close to 100 degrees is one thing- I mean it gets hot in NY too. But if you factor in the humidity, the real feel is like 108-110. And it never lets up. Every time I walked outside and the wall of heat hit me, I whimpered a little. Thank goodness for AC- although many places are actually too cold. Luckily my cousin had warned me about this and I brought sweaters with me. Right now my body is really confused. My blood may have thinned but I also have a little frostbite.

To be fair, this past winter in NY was no picnic. It was cold until May. Unrelenting cold. And at least when it’s super-hot, there’s no chance of slipping on ice. They’ve got that going for them.

Okay, now that we’ve covered the weather, let’s move on. Texas looks like anywhere else in the country. They’ve got Starbucks, Chipotle, malls, etc. However, we did see a huge billboard (with a sexy model) offering machine gun rentals- $50 for half an hour which sounded like a bargain. But since I’m pretty opposed to firearms, we stuck with Starbucks. I was a little disappointed that I didn’t see anyone wearing a cowboy hat- my husband thought maybe that’s more of a Dallas thing. And I only saw one person wearing cowboy boots- most people were in sandals or sneakers like me.

Someone on my Facebook page asked me what a bar mitzvah is. I will do my best to explain. At the age of 13 boys (“bar” means “son”) are called to read from the Torah (a scroll with the five books of Moses, which is part of the bible). Girls are called to the Torah at age 12.5 for their bat mitzvah (“bat” means “daughter”). Each week there’s a different parsha- portion- that’s read. This past week the parsha was Shoftim- which talks about laws and justice. My youngest son had the same parsha- his bar mitzvah was almost twelve years ago. Learning to read Hebrew and chant the words is no easy feat- it takes years of hard work and preparation.

Once a child has reached the age of bar/bat mitzvah they are counted as an adult (for the purposes of being part of a minyan- you need ten Jewish adults for each of the three daily prayer services). They are also expected to take responsibility for their actions going forward.

The bar mitzvah boy was my cousin David. And he did an exceptional job. I sometimes mention him in my Substack posts because he actually reads them which is sweet.

How are David and I related? I’m so glad you asked! Grab a drink and a snack and settle in for the story.

My grandmother Gertrude and her four sisters were from Poland. Between the pogroms (antisemitic attacks on Jews, a la Fiddler On the Roof) and the poverty, the sisters and their mother decided to leave Europe. Their father David had died so it was just the women and life was impossibly hard.

Molly, the oldest, came to the United States first with money sent by a cousin. And then my grandmother, the next oldest, joined her in New York. Then the two of them saved up enough money to bring over their three sisters and mom. But by then, the United States had implemented quotas (to ostensibly keep a flood of Jews from coming in). The decision was made that Clara, Rose, Bertha, and their mom Rivka would go to Montreal, which was the next best thing to New York.

Towards the end of her life, my grandmother remarked that if she did one good thing, it was helping get her family out of Europe. Because if they had remained, they would have all perished in the Holocaust. Which is what happened to much of my Hungarian side of the family. (And you wonder why I’m anxious.)

By the way, I don’t ever want to hear that Jew hating is a result of current events in Israel. I know better and if I’ve done a good job with my writings, you should know better too.

My Canadian relatives- my great-aunts and their families- visited us often in NY. And we went to Montreal for Passover most years. The aunts made me feel so loved- like I was their granddaughter. I still remember how they took care of me when I stayed with them. And how the smell of brisket and chicken soup would waft down the hall when the elevator doors opened- they were always standing there waiting for me.

I was flower girl in my cousin Rubin’s wedding. And his older daughters, Stephanie and Suzanne, were junior bridesmaids at my wedding (39 years ago today)! Despite the distance and the craziness of life, we’ve kept the relationships going. I can’t find the words to describe how nice they all are.

I wasn’t able to be at the b’nai mitzvot (plural of bar/bat mitzvah) of Stephanie’s older children (one was during Covid and I did watch the live stream) so I was determined to be at David’s. I hate to fly, and I don’t sleep in hotels (yes, I’m tons of fun on vacation) but I needed to be there. And it was a very special weekend- lots of reminiscing and reconnecting. And eating of course.

Recently, someone asked me if I have a big family. The short answer is no. Both my parents were only children. My one brother is gone as is my father. So certain relationships mean even more to me at this stage in my life.

Some journeys are worth the effort. This was certainly one of them.