Traveling to THE-PLACE-OF-MY-CHILDHOOD-CHANUKAH, to celebrate Chanukah as I did with my Mom, Dad, brother, and sister, to a place in my childhood, where darkness was converted to lightness. We entered our living room, and only one lamp light shone in the night, but when my Dad pulled out his matches to light the menorah Chanukah candles, the room came alive with dancing shadows flickering from the flame lights. Fire in all corners of the room, contained fire, fire of wisdom, the fire of warmth that cooked latkes on my Mother's stove, pass the sour cream please? The applesauce?
"What is Chanukah?" She would ask us. "It is the Holiday of Lights!" We would reply. The fight of the Maccabees, the oil that burned for 8 days, olive oil, the healer oil, green Mediterranean olives with pimentos and cream cheese as an appetizer, so many latkes, flipping like pancakes, golden wrapped chocolate bits, like money--on Chanukah everyone is rich.
Then my Father who was a Super Jew, took his finger and passed it through all nine candle flames in one big sweep! and we were all astounded! because his finger came out unburned, unaffected except it was colored with black soot. But not even a small burn, his finger, as our family Super Jew had survived, there was no pain, no burn, it was a miracle! He was invincible, and his tricks were real, we all survived the wrath of the fire, and turned it into the light of righteousness, G-d said "Let there be light." And so there was. We had light on Chanukah every year, for 8 days, always lit up, darkness disappeared and there was no pain.
We danced together with the shadows as they formed on the wall. Chanukah, Chanukah! Once a year, every year.
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