Oy Tannenbaum

When it comes to religion, my Jewish ancestors got a whole bunch of things right.

Matzo ball soup.

Fiddler on the Roof.

Rod Carew.

But nobody is perfect.

Who in the world signed off on making bacon illegal?

Now when it comes to creating a winter holiday for all the people to celebrate...

Advantage Christians.

Sure, Chanukah is fun.

Adam Sandler’s song is a classic.

I love them Potato Latkes.

And the idea of getting gifts on eight consecutive nights is a great concept.

Especially for a kid.

But nothing compares to Christmas.

The music.

The tree.

The bearded superhero.

Sure, my people have tried to ride the coat tails of the Christians.

Introducing Hanukkah Harry and the Chanuka Bush to the young kids of today.

But we can’t even agree on how to spell our holiday.

According to something called joemaller.com, there are 16 ways to spell the festival of lights.

Clearly we need a new marketing firm.

Not to mention, every time I light the menorah, I feel like I am going to burn down the house.

Christmas, on the other hand, is as simple as they come.

Shop for presents.   Wrap the presents.   Open the presents.


Done.


I've never been to Midnight, Mass.


But my dad was born in Worcester.


Growing up in Southern California, we would always spend Christmas with some friends in the San Fernando Valley.

Like us, they had a Jewish father and a non-Jewish mother.

Although, mine converted.

So we would always pretend to celebrate both occasions.

But there was no doubt what the headlining holiday was.

Each year, us kids would wait at the top of the steps at 6:30 on Christmas morning.

Waiting for the ok to go downstairs to see what Santa brought us.

Santa?

Believe?

Hellz ya!

I never once questioned Santa.

I never once questioned Santa bringing me presents.

I never once questioned why Santa would bring presents to a Jewish kid from the San Diego Hebrew Day School.

And neither would you.

It’s all about the presents, right?

And the children of today are no different.

My kids have no idea what the nativity scene means.

But they sure know how to build a Gingerbread house.

My kids have no idea where the city of Bethlehem is located.

But they know exactly where to find their stocking.

My kids have no idea who Jesus is.

But my son can name the other Alou brothers.

Call me a traitor.

Call me a phony.

Call me anything you want, but I LOVE CHRISTMAS.

And I always will.

I love the lights.

I love the songs.

I love the gifts.

Ok, that last part has changed.

I used to love getting the gifts.

What kid doesn’t.

Now I love giving the gifts.

And I especially love the mystery surrounding it.

I love the idea that my three kids are sleeping in a room tonight with their three cousins.

And all they can do is talk, think and dream about what presents they are going to get in the morning.

And let’s not forget the annual traditions.

The egg nog.

The spiked egg nog.

The Lakers game.

As the great Apostle Zero Mostel once said...

“Tradition, Tradition!”

Wait a minute.

Advantage Jews.

Growing up, we NEVER opened a gift before Christmas morning.

It was torture as a kid, but that is one rule I won’t bend on.

How funny is that, the Orthodox Jewish kid won’t let his half-Jewish, half-Korean kids open up their Christmas gifts until Christmas morning.

And it’s not even my holiday.

Every year, they pretty much beg me to open one gift on Christmas Eve.

And every year, I say no.

Now there is a part of this holiday season that we can all agree to.

And that is the day after Christmas.

As in, the day after Christmas sales.

Or as I call it, the Jewish Christmas.

Nobody likes a deal more than us.

Merry Christmas to all.