31-Mar-99 Seder at my Dad's

. .
.
My father wanted to have a seder at his house this year. We packed up our copies of the hagaddah and set off for Connecticut. He lives out in the woods not far from Hartford. Arlene and I got there only about 15 minutes later than we had said we would be, and Charley had beaten us there, although he had never driven there before by himself and claimed to have got lost on the way.

We grew up using the Reconstructionist New Hagaddah, written in the 40's and having a strong social conscience, but not all the traditional readings. My father feels strongly about keeping the service relevant, but after just a few pages it seemed that the main course was burning, and my dad got sidetracked with food preparation. The smoke detector went off and I opened the sliding door and the front door for ventilation while Charley flailed a handkerchief at the smoke detector to clear it out. (Oh -- I forgot to say that when I went to the bank earlier that day, the door alarm was goofy and went on every time anyone entered the building. At least it was silent and just flashed its xenon tube -- but it was a big day for false alarms.) We got the smoke detector to quiet down and my father brought out the soup before we had made the blessings over the matzo and horseradish, so I zoomed ahead for those; even the New Hagaddah says “Whoever hasn't explained these items hasn't done the job.” The food was fine even with somewhat carbonized roast lamb, and you can't really complain when an 84-year-old who doesn't want any help can manage that well.

An important ritual during the seder is for the person leading the service to break one matzo in half and save one half for dessert. You can match the broken edge to be sure you have the right piece. The key is that you need that particular piece for dessert (you're right. A piece of matzo is the least appetizing dessert in the book, but that's the rule.) If the kids steal it, they can hold it for ransom of a small gift or money. The person leading the seder hides it to keep it safe, and between courses the kids will look for it. My father was an expert at hiding that afikomen. I never knew how he could get it two rooms away when I could have sworn that he never left the table. It's a skill I never mastered, though he tried to explain it to me when I had kids. With nobody under 27 at the seder, we omitted that part today.

It was surprisingly warm outdoors when we left. I waited by the car in the dark while Arlene remembered that she was supposed to phone her brother in New Jersey to tell him we were leaving, watching the beautiful full moon (guaranteed for the holiday by the lunar calendar) and listening to the spring peepers.