On one of those weekends, I met Erica's grandmother, a very nice woman who thought the world of Erica and who made me promise that I would look after her grandaughter. (Erica gives the rather misleading impression of being frail, largely because she is very petite and fine-boned with big eyes. Erica is actually a strong, intelligent, resourceful, capable woman. She does more of the heavy lifting than people realize. I'm 5'7" and big boned and I could use a lot of supervision, frankly.)
Anyway, I promised that I would look after Erica and as soon as I was out of earshot, Grandmother turned to Erica and said "She's such a nice girl. She's Jewish, right?" "No, Gramma, she's not Jewish." "You sure she's not Jewish? She looks Jewish." "She's not Jewish, Gramma."
One of many occasions when I've been mistaken for Jewish, which I rather enjoy because I've always respected Judaism and - maybe it's the actor in me - I love trying on other people's lives and cultures. (I'm actually Episcopalian.)
Over the years I've acquired a reasonable working knowledge of Judaism.
I read a lot, f'rinstance, and when I was about 10 I read the "All of a Kind Family" books (Note to Paul: they are still in print and are excellent kid lit. Your former employer carries them.) which are about a Jewish family that lived in the NYC tenements during the turn of the previous century. Those books are the reason that I can tell people that Purim is my favorite Jewish holiday.
My sister's first husband was Jewish. His mother makes a to-die-for horseradish that'll open up your sinuses before you ever set foot in the house.
To be continued....
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