Pesach Memories

Until I was 11 or 12, my paternal grandparents and our nuclear family of five went to a hotel for the Seders. Unlike today’s Pesach resort get-aways, the two hotels I remember were small, and had no speakers, shiurim, pools, entertainment or kids’ programs. Both hotels were family owned – one in Atlantic City and one in Asbury Park. My grandfather was one of 12 siblings, and oftentimes my great aunts and uncles would join us. Since our family was the only one not living in New York or New Jersey, Pesach was the only time of year I saw these relatives.

A few memories stand out. 

• Having nothing but kichels and air-puffed mondels to nosh on during the drive to New Jersey. When we got to the hotel and stretched our legs with a walk, the smell from the Mr. Peanut shop on the boardwalk was overwhelming. Usually, an employee stood outside, handing out free samples. Since peanuts were chometz, we had to refuse the freebies.
• Being so tired and sleepy at the Seder, begging my mom to go to bed. Nope! I had to sit at the table until the Seder was over. I was too young to stay by myself in a hotel room, which meant Mom, if she put me to bed, had to stay with me. 
• Being the youngest in the family, and always having to recite the Ma Nishtanah, even though I disliked being in the “spotlight.” 
• The hotels having a chazzan to lead the Seder (no private dining rooms). However, my grandfather, being a yekkie, did his “own thing,” reading the Haggadah at his own pace, saying every word, singing all the songs with the tunes he remembered from his childhood. We were always the last family in the dining room and subject to glares from the wait staff who wanted to clean up dinner and set up for breakfast.

At some point, we stopped going to the hotels. Maybe they closed; I don’t know. The Seder then moved to my parents’ house in Pickwick, with my grandfather still in charge. His Seder was still serious business and not child oriented. When he was no longer able to lead the Seder, the job fell to my father. Things began to lighten up, and I remember my sisters and me (and later my brothers-in-law) getting silly, especially after a couple of cups of wine. We were also joined by my Midwestern grandfather and uncle. The more the merrier.

In the 1980s, the Seder moved to my house. There was more room, and I had the youngest kids, who usually went to bed before the end. The Seder became much livelier and interactive, with the next generation–the cousins (my parents’ grandchildren) having a good time. Dad was okay with us interrupting his very quick and focused recitation of the Haggadah. Pertinent insights and commentary were welcome as long as we didn’t talk too long. He’d tap his watch to remind us he had to get up at 6 a.m. to get to Rabbi Weinreb’s Daf Yomi at Shomrei Emunah. A Seder going past midnight was not encouraged!

It was impossible to search the large hotel dining room for the afikomen. We had to sit at the table and not get in anyone’s way, particularly the waiters and busboys. Once our Seder moved from hotels to our homes, finding the afikomen became a fun ritual. My dad was exceptionally good at hiding it, sometimes in plain sight (such as under the tablecloth, near his plate or in his jacket pocket). 

One year, Dad tricked all his grandkids by making two afikomens; one real and one fake. He hid the real one where no one would find it but placed the fake one in an obvious place. My nephew gleefully found one only to learn his prize possession was a fake. I’ll never forget the look of dismay on his face when Dad produced the real afikomen! No worries, however. All the grandkids received afikomen presents.

Today, our silliness and fun escalate as we get to the end of the Haggadah. One tradition is singing Ha Gadya with animal sound effects. Dad started that. As kids we loved it; and now our kids do, too.

Reflecting on the changes that have occurred over the years on how we’ve conducted our family Seders, it occurs to me that when I was a young child, children were seen but not heard. That is how my grandparents’ generation raised their children, and they were in charge. We were expected to sit quietly, even if we were too young to follow along. My parents’ generation was more lenient. The children could participate, sharing what they learned in school. 

My grandfather, I think, would disapprove of our family’s 21^st century Seder. For one, no one stops the children from leaving the table if they are tired. And keeping their interest is our goal, with a table full of fun stuff, such as plastic frogs, finger plague puppets, stickers, ping pong balls as hail, and wind-up matza balls that walk, to name a few. I want this next generation to have fun Seder memories.

My young grandson gave us the ultimate compliment last year. His family spent Seder number one with another family and Seder number two with us. The next day, at lunch, he piped up, “Your Seder was much more fun!”

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Read more by Eileen Creeger.