Hanukkah Rant

 

Ah yes, Hanukkah … that beautiful time of year when we honor miracles, light candles, and participate in the sacred tradition of making our kitchens smell like fried potatoes for eight to twelve business days.

When chain stores decide they're experts on Jewish tradition. “Celebrate Hanukkah with us!” they say, proudly displaying three sad blue gift bags, a menorah that looks like it was designed by someone who’s only seen Judaism from a distance, and a single box of matzo from last April because “it seemed close enough.”

Meanwhile, commercials act like Hanukkah is just Christmas Lite™ ... “Give BIG GIFTS for EIGHT NIGHTS!” Sorry, pal, we don’t do eight nights of giant presents. This isn't Santa’s endurance event. By night three we're already in “here’s socks and a chocolate coin, don’t get greedy” territory.

And the latkes. Oh, the latkes. Social media is alive with “Make perfect golden potato pancakes effortlessly!” Effortlessly?! Have you ever grated potatoes for latkes? By the end my knuckles look like I lost a bar fight with a cactus. I am sweating, crying, and questioning whether potatoes are worth emotional trauma. (They are. Always. But still.)

Then there’s the dreidel. Ads show elegant families spinning dreidels like it's some refined intellectual pastime. Meanwhile, in real life, someone is yelling because the chocolate gelt melted on the carpet and someone else is arguing about whether gimmel counts if the dreidel fell off the table.

You want the real miracle? Keeping track of which night we're on when opening the junk drawer, finding 14 Hanukkah candles, 3 birthday candles, and panicking until someone yells, “Alexa, how many nights of Hanukkah are left?”

But it’s wonderful. It's warm. It's light in the dark. It’s potatoes and songs and cozy sweaters and one cousin who takes latke-making way too seriously insisting theirs are crispier because they “felt the ancestors guiding their frying technique.”

Happy Hanukkah. May your candles burn bright, your oil not splatter like it’s trying to fight you, and your dreidel land on gimmel at least once when someone’s actually watching.

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In my family, we celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas, which basically means December is a festive emotional obstacle course with twice the candles, twice the carbs, and enough decorative lighting to make the neighbors question whether we're trying to signal passing aircraft. It’s chaotic. It’s beautiful. It’s glitter, menorah wax, and cookie crumbs everywhere. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.