Bent is not broken

04/29/2022

This year, Pesach was very different for us; it’s our first chag celebrating Pesach without both his mom and dad, Anyu and Apu. Bob is an only child and as a result, right from the beginning, we spent most shabbosim and holidays with Bob’s mom and dad. I guess it was just easier; we were both in school full time, neither of us cooked and money was scarce. We did not overthink it, we just went to his parents for the chaggim and shabbosim. Anyu and Apu were great company, the food was delicious and we could sleep late. When we started having kids of our own, we continued going. It turned out to be an amazing experience that allowed our kids to enjoy a lot of quality time with Anyu and Apu. Our children learned how to play every kind of card and board game, the intricacies of MahJong, all those cracks and bams, and to drink coffee with loads of sugar. They learned how to cook Anyu’s old world recipes and even picked up a word or two of Hungarian. Thankfully, they did not pick up her Camels, no filter, smoking habit that she started during her teenage years in the ghetto. When our children grew up and started families of their own, they did whatever they could to stay connected by visiting and calling whenever they could. Bob and I have been married for many years and in all of those years, we made Pesach exactly twice. Once when we moved into our Cedarhurst house, Anyu and Apu were in the process of moving to Florida and uploaded all of their Pesach stuff to us. It was so much work because we hosted Bob’s extended non observant family. That’s when I swore off hosting and gave all of the pots, dishes and pans to our kids Meredith and Jonathan(Canada). Unlike us, they have been making and hosting Pesach for the past 25 years. The second time we stayed home was during Covid when it was just the two of us celebrated. We bought a very limited supply of pans with the rest being paper and disposable. In keeping with our freeloading tradition, we spent this holiday in Toronto with our daughter’s family and thereby reuniting us with our old Pesach stuff. We had not seen our old pan for many many years. When my son in law Jonathan pulled it out to make several rounds of eggs and matzah brie, he picked up this relic and proclaimed it the best pan in the world. As I looked at its beat up, blackened and dented form, I was catapulted back to the day in the discount store in Brooklyn when I found and bought it. The big dent on the side was there from birth; it cost $1 because it was damaged goods. Here we are more than 50 years later and it still fulfills its purpose of making delicious breakfasts for my boys. Of course, this gets me thinking about our goals for perfection. How many times do we make judgements about ourselves, our kids or our students because of missing the mark or falling short of the ideal. How often do we underestimate a child’s potential because he or she may be a little “dented”? This is my struggle. I know that the $1 price tag was the only reason that I bought that poor dented pan. I almost never allow myself to compromise on my appearance. I would never walk out the door with a run in my stocking, a spot on my dress or forgetting to put on earrings. What would be the big deal if I let myself slide a little? Today is Yom Hashoah; we remember and honor Anyu and Apu, Holocaust heroes. Like that old fry pan, they came home from the war dented. They lived long productive loving lives; may their neshamas have an Aliyah. I needed to see that perfectly wonderful old pan to be reminded that “bent is not broken”. Shabbat Shalom.