Before you can say boo, my middle son, Eli, will be married to his fiancée, Nicole, a Jewish Persian girl whose family immigrated to the United States from Iran. It was comforting to see that her family had a digital Ayatollah dartboard.
This marriage will make it three down, none to go. All our boys went old school and married Jewish women.
Growing up, the only Jew I knew married to a non-Jew was Sammy Davis Jr.
The women our boys have chosen to spend their lives with are people we like and whom we truly love. If your kids marry people you don’t like, the bad news is that there is little you can do. The good news is you’ll have plenty to talk about for decades to come.
When I was 30, my rabbi told me that I should be married; to me, that was a new idea. His words: “You’ve had enough fun; now it’s time to stop futzing around.” How close is futzing to another word that also works?
The fact that I have been married for 36-plus years and that I found my beshert (soulmate) — if that isn’t a miracle, then stick my head in a guillotine, face up.
To add to the pressure, I was the last in my family who could carry on the Schiff name. Keeping the name going becomes increasingly more important to me every year. As of today, we have four grandchildren, and God willing, more to come. So, with any mazel, when Moshiach comes, the Schiff name will be called to step forward.
When our boys were little, spitting and tripping each other, and pouring 50 dollars’ worth of grade-A, light-amber maple syrup on one silver-dollar pancake, I found it hard to believe any of them would ever make it to the chupah. The best-case scenario was if they all did jail time together, we could at least visit them in one fell swoop. Our grandkids are spitting, tripping and pouring just like their fathers. What goes around, comes around.
The way the pain of a toothache seems endless, so does raising kids. Parents of young children never sit down to finish a meal or talk on the phone in peace. There is only one word that can help return a couple to sanity. That word is amnesia: the selective overlooking or ignoring of events that are not favorable or useful to one’s purpose or position.” You could say the cure for almost everything in life is amnesia.
If you ask a couple what they fought about yesterday, they probably won’t remember. I have been told that the pain of childbirth falls into the amnesia category; otherwise, who would have another? When a married man sees a beautiful woman walking by him, and he thinks she can change his life for the better, unless he doesn’t chase the thought, he instantly suffers from amnesia. Within seconds, she never existed.
So now, for my wife and me, it’s time for the mezinka, an Ashkenazi Jewish wedding custom that is observed when parents marry off their last child. At the wedding, our kids and their spouses, and anyone else who wants to join in the festivities, take a broom and sweep the dance floor, symbolizing that we have cleaned our home of our children. That we did our job as parents and are now done. This is amazing to watch because many of these Jewish women have never held a broom and don’t know where in the house the broom is kept. Recently, I gave one of my daughters-in-law a DustBuster as a gift, and she didn’t know what it was. Our boys are excellent at sweeping because they have been sweeping out our bank accounts since birth.
The truth is, as a parent, are you ever done? The answer is no. There will always be questions that only you can answer. Problems that only you can help solve. And a trust in you as their parent that could never be replaced.
Have fun sweeping them out of the house, but make sure your refrigerator is stocked when they stop by, and when you sweep them out, be very careful not to sweep the love out with them.
Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”
