Santa left no gifts for Jewish children like my mother. Then one night he called her name. A classic memoir of love and difference by Fredelle Bruser Maynard
Your mom was a fabulous writer. I finished reading Raisins and Almonds about a month ago. I can't imagine growing up in a family with so much talent. Wait a minute. I did! Talent of a different sort, but talent just the same. I don't celebrate Christmas. I was raised in a Jewish family, so Hanukah was the primary observance. That didn't stop my father from hauling out his little artificial tree. He kept it in a slim box which he'd pull from a high shelf in his closet; it was about 2 feet tall, if that high. The tree was white and the ornaments were pink, white, and silver balls as I recall. Maybe explains my love of pink? Always as an accent, never overwhelming. My dad loved any excuse to give gifts. So, we did a funny Christmas and it was just about the presents and the stockings, crammed full of treats. It never really felt right to me, but we weren't religious Jews. It was more a cultural connection than anything else. But I have memories of my grandmother (the one who raised my father in a moderately Orthodox home) singing Raisins and Almonds to me as a child. I was always surprised that she had a lovely voice. It's the only song I remember her singing.
Your mother. You. Raisins and Almonds. Tree and Apple. I read your memoir, too, finished it 2 weeks ago. You do her proud, every single week with us. Thank you for sharing her work. Love to you, my friend.
My goodness, Nan! What a deep dive you’re taking into Maynardiana. Your father had what used to be called, in some circles, a Hanukkah bush. My grandmother scorned scorned such goyishe frippery. In case you’re wondering autocorrect is goyishe and preferred boyish.
It was definitely not a Hanukah bush. I called it that one day, and my father was VERY offended. I love your grandmother's opinion. It never felt right to me once I stopped being a child concerned with how many gifts I received. And not such a deep dive. I've never read anything by your sister. At least not yet. I don't have the same curiosity about her work as I've had about your mother's. Fascinating. My father was quite a reader, but I will admit I have a little envy that you grew up in a literary home!
Growing up in a literary home was a rather mixed blessing, a conversation for another time. Btw, thank you for posting the song. I will share the link in a separate comment.
Oh my heavens. This is an astounding story. And utterly unforgettable. About families and love and trying to understand and not always getting it.
And your own words: “Typing the entire story for you, I touched her writer’s mind with my fingers. It seemed we were peers in conversation and that she, who died in 1989, had only slipped into the kitchen to brew another pot of mint tea.” So moving, too. And powerful.
Rona, this is the most beautiful Christmas story I’ve ever read. Your mother’s dear parents doing what they could…really, I’m so moved.
I wonder what Christmas was like for my father as a Jewish child in Colorado with parents from Ukraine. I remember now that Christmas made him uneasy, but I didn’t much like it either except for the cookies, and as a child I didn’t even know that was Jewish, albeit not observant.
What a gifted writer, your mother! I felt that I was right there with her. (The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.)
What a high compliment, Elizabeth. Thank you! I’ve been meaning to get in touch about Middlemarch. I am highly motivated and need to set my sights on something hopeful at a terribly hard time. Could you please send me your email address via Substack? Or is Substack a better way of reaching you?
Good morning, Rona. This is indeed a powerful story, and I share your readers' emotion at all it encompasses. How amazing to have this kind of writing to keep your mother's essence alive. What a story. As a Jewish girl growing up in Maine I must admit that I was envious of my friends' trees and gifts. We didn't have the Jewish traditions to replace Christmas. It was never made clear to me why. I couldn't wait to be an adult so that I could fill my house with a pine-scented beauty (which we call our pagan winter solstice tree) and decorate with carefully chosen gold filigree ornaments, and mother of pearl musical instruments. But my children, only half Jewish, barely connect to their Jewish roots, and this, also, leaves me feeling sad, as if a betrayal to my father who recently passed away. There is a lot here to unpack as they say. Thanks for sharing this.
You and my mother shared a passion for Christmas trees, Julie. She couldn’t get enough of what she had missed—until, post-divorce, she found a Jewish love and left Christmas behind.
Beautiful story! Thank you so much for sharing some of your mother’s writing. Yes, holidays bring out so many emotions. And so many memories. I wish all those feelings of comparison didn’t exist. But they do. They somehow drive our consumerism, too. I think the most poignant part of the story for me, though, is the explanation that your grandparents believed they were doing something wonderful for their daughter by providing Rachel the new clothes… the best intentions of parents are so often misunderstood. Thanks again for sharing. And how amazing to have such a talented mother (and grandmother).
Etta, since you mentioned the clothes, I should mention that history repeated. My mother once made a spectacular wardrobe for my Christmas doll, and instead of appreciating her efforts, I zeroed in on one minor flaw. I compared what she gave me to expensive doll clothers from New York, which the family budget wouldn’t cover.
Such a sad but typical story of child-parent gifts!!! I had a conversation this past week about doll clothes made by parents and grandparents. What labors of love! Does anyone do that anymore? My grandmother made such elaborate doll clothes!
My mother LOVED Raisins and Almonds and passed it on to me and I loved it too! Later, when I worked (very briefly) as an assistant editor at Homemaker's Magazine, I edited a piece by your mother and I was so intimidated! I loved everything she wrote, and I love everything you write, too!
Thank you, Bev. I didn’t know about your Homemaker’s connection. That magazine was a mainstay for my mother and later for me, under Jane Gale and Sally Armstrong.
What a wonderful story, Rona, so beautifully stressing your grandparents' love for your mom amongst her feelings of longing, 'different otherness', and her awareness and learning to navigate being distinct and evidently luckier than most children in the community while wanting to be the same. Thank you.
This is such a O Henry-ish story, Rona, and it conjured up so many of my own memories of being the Jewish kid wanting nothing more than to celebrate Christmas. It also made me think of the weirdest job interview question ever, in November 1984, from the managing editor at the New Haven Register, who asked me, "What do Jews do on Christmas?" In fact, I've been thinking about it since I saw the title of your essay on the weekend, and now I'm going to write about that. So, thanks, as ever, for the inspiration. :)
What a question! How do some people ever make it into management? As for O. Henry, I certainly thought of "Gift of the Magi." Glad you mentioned the resonance. I look forward to learning what Jews do on Christmas.
What a tender story. I am a non-religious person who grew up celebrating Christmas. When I married my Jewish husband he too was secular but with the birth of our child and the passing of his parents, he has renewed his participation in his religion. My daughter is 11 and has made her choice to be Jewish. We decided together on no tree this year. Here’s to honoring each other and the perfectly imperfect love and magic and acceptance in our holiday stories.
This is a wonderful gift to your readers, Rona. I shared it with friends so that they , too, could feel in their hearts the magic of the words your mother wrote. I have many Jewish friends over the years who have expressed their feelings about the Christmas holiday celebration, but none tugged at my heart nor made me understand more than this sweet story. Thank you so much!
Thank you. Rona for sharing this very special Christmas story. For me Christmas was as much about magic and family as the birth of Christ. My ancestry is very WASP in all directions, some more religious than others. Church wasn’t part of my family life, but I would go with friends and want to be part of these communities. There are so many ways to feel different. My mother and her sister sewed and knit an entire wardrobe for a new baby doll under the tree. I still have them and just looking at them reminds me how much I was loved. I love how you described typing your mother’s story and experiencing her thoughts through the words in the process. I have written some stories about my mother’s childhood, trying to fill in the knowledge gaps and it has helped me better understand her.
Understanding is the best reason I know to write about one’s life and family. Not everyone will be published but anyone can acquire a deeper appreciation of formative people and passages. I’m glad this story touched you.
Your mom was a fabulous writer. I finished reading Raisins and Almonds about a month ago. I can't imagine growing up in a family with so much talent. Wait a minute. I did! Talent of a different sort, but talent just the same. I don't celebrate Christmas. I was raised in a Jewish family, so Hanukah was the primary observance. That didn't stop my father from hauling out his little artificial tree. He kept it in a slim box which he'd pull from a high shelf in his closet; it was about 2 feet tall, if that high. The tree was white and the ornaments were pink, white, and silver balls as I recall. Maybe explains my love of pink? Always as an accent, never overwhelming. My dad loved any excuse to give gifts. So, we did a funny Christmas and it was just about the presents and the stockings, crammed full of treats. It never really felt right to me, but we weren't religious Jews. It was more a cultural connection than anything else. But I have memories of my grandmother (the one who raised my father in a moderately Orthodox home) singing Raisins and Almonds to me as a child. I was always surprised that she had a lovely voice. It's the only song I remember her singing.
Your mother. You. Raisins and Almonds. Tree and Apple. I read your memoir, too, finished it 2 weeks ago. You do her proud, every single week with us. Thank you for sharing her work. Love to you, my friend.
https://youtu.be/x-W_DikODc4?si=215BxqQ66IAXPl4F
My goodness, Nan! What a deep dive you’re taking into Maynardiana. Your father had what used to be called, in some circles, a Hanukkah bush. My grandmother scorned scorned such goyishe frippery. In case you’re wondering autocorrect is goyishe and preferred boyish.
It was definitely not a Hanukah bush. I called it that one day, and my father was VERY offended. I love your grandmother's opinion. It never felt right to me once I stopped being a child concerned with how many gifts I received. And not such a deep dive. I've never read anything by your sister. At least not yet. I don't have the same curiosity about her work as I've had about your mother's. Fascinating. My father was quite a reader, but I will admit I have a little envy that you grew up in a literary home!
Growing up in a literary home was a rather mixed blessing, a conversation for another time. Btw, thank you for posting the song. I will share the link in a separate comment.
Oh my heavens. This is an astounding story. And utterly unforgettable. About families and love and trying to understand and not always getting it.
And your own words: “Typing the entire story for you, I touched her writer’s mind with my fingers. It seemed we were peers in conversation and that she, who died in 1989, had only slipped into the kitchen to brew another pot of mint tea.” So moving, too. And powerful.
Maria, it’s a great pleasure to share this very special story with readers who connect, as you do. I am honored.
Rona, this is the most beautiful Christmas story I’ve ever read. Your mother’s dear parents doing what they could…really, I’m so moved.
I wonder what Christmas was like for my father as a Jewish child in Colorado with parents from Ukraine. I remember now that Christmas made him uneasy, but I didn’t much like it either except for the cookies, and as a child I didn’t even know that was Jewish, albeit not observant.
What a gifted writer, your mother! I felt that I was right there with her. (The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.)
What a high compliment, Elizabeth. Thank you! I’ve been meaning to get in touch about Middlemarch. I am highly motivated and need to set my sights on something hopeful at a terribly hard time. Could you please send me your email address via Substack? Or is Substack a better way of reaching you?
Good morning, Rona. This is indeed a powerful story, and I share your readers' emotion at all it encompasses. How amazing to have this kind of writing to keep your mother's essence alive. What a story. As a Jewish girl growing up in Maine I must admit that I was envious of my friends' trees and gifts. We didn't have the Jewish traditions to replace Christmas. It was never made clear to me why. I couldn't wait to be an adult so that I could fill my house with a pine-scented beauty (which we call our pagan winter solstice tree) and decorate with carefully chosen gold filigree ornaments, and mother of pearl musical instruments. But my children, only half Jewish, barely connect to their Jewish roots, and this, also, leaves me feeling sad, as if a betrayal to my father who recently passed away. There is a lot here to unpack as they say. Thanks for sharing this.
You and my mother shared a passion for Christmas trees, Julie. She couldn’t get enough of what she had missed—until, post-divorce, she found a Jewish love and left Christmas behind.
Your mom's story made me weep for her younger self. I undestand why it has become a classic. Thank you for sharing this beautiful story.
Thank YOU, Jill. My mother loved an audience, and she has found a new one today. She'd be thrilled. And maybe she is...
Beautiful story! Thank you so much for sharing some of your mother’s writing. Yes, holidays bring out so many emotions. And so many memories. I wish all those feelings of comparison didn’t exist. But they do. They somehow drive our consumerism, too. I think the most poignant part of the story for me, though, is the explanation that your grandparents believed they were doing something wonderful for their daughter by providing Rachel the new clothes… the best intentions of parents are so often misunderstood. Thanks again for sharing. And how amazing to have such a talented mother (and grandmother).
Etta, since you mentioned the clothes, I should mention that history repeated. My mother once made a spectacular wardrobe for my Christmas doll, and instead of appreciating her efforts, I zeroed in on one minor flaw. I compared what she gave me to expensive doll clothers from New York, which the family budget wouldn’t cover.
Such a sad but typical story of child-parent gifts!!! I had a conversation this past week about doll clothes made by parents and grandparents. What labors of love! Does anyone do that anymore? My grandmother made such elaborate doll clothes!
Oh what a beautiful story, so full of love and longing. A gift to us all. Thank you so much Rona, and thank you Fredelle 🥹
Lovely to hear from you, Jo. Thanks.
I tasted the richness within each word You were draped in love . Christmas makes me sad.
Yes, and so was my mother. Unfulfilled longing tends to well up at Christmas. You are not alone, and I’m glad you appreciated “Jewish Christmas.”
My mother LOVED Raisins and Almonds and passed it on to me and I loved it too! Later, when I worked (very briefly) as an assistant editor at Homemaker's Magazine, I edited a piece by your mother and I was so intimidated! I loved everything she wrote, and I love everything you write, too!
Thank you, Bev. I didn’t know about your Homemaker’s connection. That magazine was a mainstay for my mother and later for me, under Jane Gale and Sally Armstrong.
It was great, wasn't it? I worked there very briefly when Mebbe Black was the editor.
Yes, I wrote for Mebbie too and wonder where she is now.
How your grandparents loved your mother. How kind and supportive they were. My heart feels so good after reading this, Rona.
They did, indeed. Their love shines today,
What a wonderful story, Rona, so beautifully stressing your grandparents' love for your mom amongst her feelings of longing, 'different otherness', and her awareness and learning to navigate being distinct and evidently luckier than most children in the community while wanting to be the same. Thank you.
Thank you, Judy. She was extravagantly loved, and indeed luckier than most.
This is such a O Henry-ish story, Rona, and it conjured up so many of my own memories of being the Jewish kid wanting nothing more than to celebrate Christmas. It also made me think of the weirdest job interview question ever, in November 1984, from the managing editor at the New Haven Register, who asked me, "What do Jews do on Christmas?" In fact, I've been thinking about it since I saw the title of your essay on the weekend, and now I'm going to write about that. So, thanks, as ever, for the inspiration. :)
What a question! How do some people ever make it into management? As for O. Henry, I certainly thought of "Gift of the Magi." Glad you mentioned the resonance. I look forward to learning what Jews do on Christmas.
What a tender story. I am a non-religious person who grew up celebrating Christmas. When I married my Jewish husband he too was secular but with the birth of our child and the passing of his parents, he has renewed his participation in his religion. My daughter is 11 and has made her choice to be Jewish. We decided together on no tree this year. Here’s to honoring each other and the perfectly imperfect love and magic and acceptance in our holiday stories.
Your daughter is a principled child. You must be proud. Thank you for sharing this glimpse of your family’s spiritual and celebratory life.
“Perfectly imperfect love and magic and acceptance” ♥️
This is a wonderful gift to your readers, Rona. I shared it with friends so that they , too, could feel in their hearts the magic of the words your mother wrote. I have many Jewish friends over the years who have expressed their feelings about the Christmas holiday celebration, but none tugged at my heart nor made me understand more than this sweet story. Thank you so much!
Thank you for spreading the word, dear Vi. I do indeed think of this as a gift to my readers.
I love this, Rona! How lucky you are to have such a rich tale from your mother's childhood long, long ago. This may be my new favorite Chanukah story.
Thank you, Robin. It’s the only Hanukkah story I know, so of course I’m biased.
Thank you. Rona for sharing this very special Christmas story. For me Christmas was as much about magic and family as the birth of Christ. My ancestry is very WASP in all directions, some more religious than others. Church wasn’t part of my family life, but I would go with friends and want to be part of these communities. There are so many ways to feel different. My mother and her sister sewed and knit an entire wardrobe for a new baby doll under the tree. I still have them and just looking at them reminds me how much I was loved. I love how you described typing your mother’s story and experiencing her thoughts through the words in the process. I have written some stories about my mother’s childhood, trying to fill in the knowledge gaps and it has helped me better understand her.
Understanding is the best reason I know to write about one’s life and family. Not everyone will be published but anyone can acquire a deeper appreciation of formative people and passages. I’m glad this story touched you.