The Dead Zone

If you pay any attention to web analytics, you're well aware that Internet traffic begins to drop off around Thanksgiving. Sure, you have your cyber Monday shoppers (not to mention your last-minute-can-you-send-that-express shoppers) along with all those happy bloggers posting photographs of their adorable grandchildren's first Christmas, their cats wearing festive hats, their great-aunt Tildy's gingerbread recipe, and all the snow from which they just dug out their car, but by and large, after Thanksgiving, most of us are too busy getting ready for the end of December to kill fifteen minutes online.

Of course, the deadest of the dead time is...this week. Students are still enjoying quality time with their families before they head back to school for the new semester. Young couples are still enjoying fabulous tropical vacations without a care in the world. A lot of us are off work, and don't need the distraction of the Internet to fill up our otherwise meaningless work days, and those of us who do have to work this week, well, those folks are working. Mostly taking care of the rest of us.

So blogging the last week of December hardly seems worth it. But then again, if you know anything about web analytics, you're well aware that Google doesn't go on vacation. Google's working as hard as ever, crawling your pages and ranking them. Google has no family to go home to. Google doesn't take a break, and if you want Google to notice you, you can't take a break either.

Merry, Merry

Today is the winter solstice, and all across the northern hemisphere, celebrations are underway. The light will turn, the days grow longer. Winter, though perhaps just getting started, will assuredly end. Only a mere 3 months to the vernal equinox!

Many people choose the holiday season to donate to charity or volunteer their time, but, since I volunteer approximately 10 hours a week during the school year, it's time for me to take a break from doing good and spend 2 weeks taking care of myself.

This year, I've been acting as volunteer librarian at a local elementary school, which puts me in close proximity to 100s of developing minds. On Thursday afternoon, shortly before the beginning of break, an inquisitive 4th grader asked about my Christmas plans. I explained to her that I was Jewish, because that was much easier than detailing my actual spiritual beliefs, which could fill a book, or be summed up with the word, "pantheist." Neither explanation seemed suitable.

After a few minutes, my young friend came back. "What do Jewish people do on Christmas, anyway?"

"I enjoy the silence," I told her.

"You like that?"

"Very much."

In reality, there are Jewish Christmas traditions. Jewish people, like other people, go to movies on Christmas day. I have a friend whose tradition is to see 3 movies every Christmas. What else is there to do? We have no compulsion to spend quality time with our families.

(In fact, my parents were married on Christmas Day, so you'd think we would be forced to do quality time, but that's not our tradition. As a child, we spent both Christmas and New Year's Day in the airport. They are excellent times to fly: there are few travelers, many seats, and no fare blackouts.)

But in fact, there is another Christmas tradition celebrated by Jews around the country, and it is this: we eat in Chinese restaurants.

No joke.

Think of it. The goyim, as we say, are otherwise occupied. The Chinese owners are often Buddhist and have no reason to close. Across America, Jewish families (those whose kashruth is sketchy or nonexistent) are enjoying fried rice and egg drop soup in virtually empty restaurants, where there is no waiting for tables, and the service is attentive and excellent.

This is no secret in the Jewish community. Anyone raised with the least snippet of assimilation, any Jewish kid whose family allowed them to eat in non-kosher restaurants, has enjoyed the warm hospitality of the Christmas Day Chinese feast. The snow falls gently outside. The TV above the bar plays only pleasant footage. The steam from the teapot wafts gently over the table. And we Jews escape the commercialism, the forced joviality, and the implication that our religion was hijacked some 2000 years ago. Through the grace of the open-on-Christmas Chinese restaurant, Jewish Americans experience the true meaning of Christmas.

Crispy egg rolls and fortune cookies.

Excuse me. Family togetherness.

Yum.

Weird enough for ya?

Here's a heartwarming human interest piece to delight this holiday season: 98-year-old woman strangles 100-year-old roommate.

Yes, I recall, ages ago the drama of junior high, the torment of girl against girl. I recall thinking wistfully to myself, "Someday we'll all grow up and all this childish bullshit will be a thing of the past."

No! I'm here to tell you, it never ends! Some people will never grow up! Thirteen lives in the heart of us all.