The whole family: Dad, Mom, Ricky, Me, Chip.

Monday is the anniversary of my Bat Mitzvah. It doesn’t seem possible that it was so long ago - I mean I can still hear the band playing, still feel my voice tremble as I started to sing that first prayer, and still feel the surprise of Chad something’s braces as he kissed me during spin the bottle.

I wasn’t even thirteen yet. My birthday is in August, but our temple scheduled ceremonies only during the school year. My date was at the end of a long year of Bar and Bat Mitzvah’s, and I must have gone to one almost every weekend. I was really close to the kids from temple. We all went to different schools, and some of us went to schools where there weren’t all that many Jews.

Small side story: In first grade, after I said, “Jesus!” all annoyed for some reason just like my mom did, Marcy T told me Jesus was the Son of God, and that I shouldn’t take his name in vain. I had no idea who this Jesus guy was, and told her we hadn’t learned that yet.

A few years later I was hanging out with my temple crew a lot. We had to go to Hebrew school one afternoon a week, Sunday school on Sunday, and Friday night services. Friday nights was a social event  - we all sat together at the back and the cantor was always giving us the shut up look. Seventh grade and we were learning how to flirt.

I started noticing David L sometime that spring. I remember he was sitting in the row in front of me and he turned around and smiled. I guess his Bar Mitzvah was soon, because his mom called my mom and all of a sudden I was going. The party was at the Town House, and I shocked my friends by dancing alone with with him - touch dancing, not that we knew how to or anything. We spent many hours talking on the phone (in the kitchen for me) about nothing. He couldn't go to mine - sleepawaycamp. His mom told my mom he cried.

I invited boys to my party, and was unbelievably the first among the crew to do so. After they got my invite a whole bunch reciprocated, and after that most kids did the same. Which meant that I had a party every weekend. Which also meant I needed something to wear.

So my mom and I went to Bloomingdales. We’d tried a bunch of other stores at the mall, but we were having trouble agreeing. 1974 was miniskirt heaven, but I was a pants girl, and had discovered jeans and cords. (You had to buy boys sizes, and have them tailored to fit.) Getting dressed up wasn’t my thing. My mom always wanted me to wear girly flowered stuff, and I never did. We eventually got a few minidresses, granny-style, that tied in the back, but hadn’t been able to find something to for my event. At Bloomies though, we found the dress. Long, with an empire waste, it had a blue bodice and pink flowers on the white skirt. We both loved it.

How happy do I look?

I’ve been talking about this ceremony that basically is a young Jew’s entrance into the adult community as if its one big party and not about religion. For me, it was a rite that everyone did, and it had little to do with believing.  Because you see I did not believe then and I don’t now.

At 12, I was unable to hide my doubts, and during the preparation with the rabbi and cantor I was not shy about discussing it with them. Oh I liked being part of the tribe, and I understand that rules like “Thou shall not kill” make moral sense. I like my whitefish and chopped liver. But an unseen force that made the world in six days? I could not wrap my head around it. The cantor especially would encourage me to talk about my feelings; he said that questioning God is part of being Jewish, and that by the way Hitler would have gassed me whether I believed or not. I couldn’t argue with that - we’d been shown the films of the concentration camps for as long as I could remember. He told me to have faith and be a good person, and that God would want me to do what I thought was right.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my Bat Mitzvah because I just went to my best friend’s daughter Casey’s, and the compare/contrast is striking. We had the ceremony at the temple Saturday morning, then went directly to the club for the reception. (My Uncle Eddie - I only called him Ed) drove me in his convertible. Without my parents or brothers. I felt so grown up.

Casey’s ceremony was also in the morning, and they had a little nosh at the temple right afterwards. The reception was in the evening, at a posh hotel.

I had to share my ceremony with Jennifer W. She was a nice girl, but to tell the truth she annoyed me. Her mom was always trying to get me to be Jennifer’s friend, but I got the feeling that Jennifer could have lived without me too. She also wasn’t really bright. She couldn’t sing her Torah portion and could barely speak any Hebrew. (I could read Hebrew really well, just don’t ask me what it meant.)

So the cantor asked me to not sing my prayers or Haftorah. because he didn’t want me to make Jennifer look bad. Because it didn’t matter how well I did, I was only a girl. (During practice I did exactly as he asked; at the ceremony I sang everything. Surprise! Not the sweet thing they expected.)

During Casey’s ceremony her parents placed her grandfather’s prayer shawl over her shoulders, and she wore it the whole time. Because, as her cantor said, there is no difference in their community between a boy or girl. The Rabbi spoke directly to her and she held the Torah, walking around the temple. (I was only allowed to look at the Torah.)

My parents together, smiling, happy. (Divorce was six years away.)

We had about 75 people at the reception, mostly relatives and lots of my friends. I know I had fun, but the photographer annoyed me by taking so many photos. The bartenders were instructed not to serve the children drinks (drinking age was 18 at the time) but some cousins got me a whiskey sour. I was buzzed.

Casey’s party had a special area reserved for the children, and some food especially for them. Extravagant barely describes the event. They had a cocktail hour with a wet bar, top shelf liquor and passed hors d'oeuvres. The kids had all sorts of games, and virgin frozen drinks. Minimum 200 people.

They did a candle lighting ceremony at the party, where Casey called special friends and relatives to light a birthday candle with her. She asked me to be one of them. (Big aww.) Casey wrote personal poems for each person/family and read them as we lit the candle together. It was lovely.

At the end of my party my Gram told me she was proud that I was growing into such a lovely girl. And by the way don’t let a boy touch me ever. And watch my nasty mouth.

My grandmother (in front) and my Aunt Clara. (Gram's sister-in-law.)

At the end of Casey’s party I told her she was a special person who could do anything she wanted, and that I was her friend as well as her moms. I told he she could call/text me any time and that what we spoke about was between us. And she hugged me. (Then her mom hugged me and told me she will kill me if I don’t tell her everything Casey tells me.)

At twelve I hadn’t learned that smart girls aren’t popular.  At twelve I was the best artist, the best dancer, the one who knew all about music. At twelve, boys followed me around and girls asked me how to make boys follow them. Soon, all that would change. I hope it doesn't for Casey.